Playing Ball

by Kerry Freeman

  He stamped on his libido and pulled the trigger of the nozzle as Alan tried to wrest the hose away from Ruben. Water, just above freezing, went everywhere, soaking them both and Ruben let out a startled shout from the shock. He relinquished the hose and shoved Alan off him with a laugh.

  “You do realize I’m the only one at this madhouse without a change of clothes, right?”

  “You’ll dry out in the sun. There’s a nice breeze coming off the lake.” Alan sat up and gave him a friendly shove back. “You should’ve stayed out of it if you didn’t want the consequences.”

  “Please. You all would’ve involved me the moment you saw me, unless I took refuge in the house.”

  Alan grinned, his entire expression engaging, and for a moment the familiar camaraderie was there, the kind they’d had before things had gotten to be so complicated. Ruben missed that, the friendship without old guilt, the enjoyment of being in Alan’s presence without his feelings being muddled by sexual tension and longing for more.

  He only had himself to blame for any awkwardness between them. He never should’ve kissed Alan that night, no matter how much the memory of that kiss had been seared into his brain.

  “That was awesome, Uncle Ruben,” Mikey said with a look of delight lighting up his face. “Did you see Dad’s face when he saw you?”

  “I couldn’t miss it.” Ruben pushed himself up, grimacing as his shoulder popped and twinged. He rolled it, but there didn’t seem to be any damage beyond what years of pitching had already done. He was old and battered enough without adding to it.

  He ruffled Brett’s hair before he could dodge him, then hugged Seth and Mikey, who didn’t feel like they were too old for embraces. Matt had gotten distracted by something on the ground and was currently crouched in the grass, his diaper sagging down and his finger in his mouth. They were good kids. Alan had been busting his ass to give them back the sense of security the older ones had lost after their mother’s sudden death.

  Ruben missed this. The hole had ached a little more each and every day these past couple of weeks. He’d brought his phone with him, waiting for his own kids to ping him for FaceTime. Once again Jessica and Jonah were late. He’d tried their phones, even tried the house, but no answer. He hated feeling like Karen was restricting his access to his kids and tried to stop those negative thoughts as soon as they came. But lately, he’d been having a harder time getting out of the rut he’d fallen into.

  The divorce had been a good thing, as much as Ruben wished there hadn’t been heartache and anger all around. But once things had settled down and the kids had seen how much happier he and Karen were, how they’d been able to become friends again, they’d relaxed. However, losing his kids to the near bottom of the East Coast still hurt. Then to lose his career on top of it had made for a rough couple years.

  “Hey, you okay?” Alan nudged Ruben’s elbow with his own.

  Ruben pulled himself out of his depressing thoughts and met Alan’s concerned gaze. “Yeah.”

  “It’s not your shoulder, is it?”

  Ruben forced a smile and got to his feet. “Despite last year’s surgery, my shoulder is faring better than my knees. I’m good.” The memory of being forced out by younger, stronger men had ceased to sting a while ago. The rehab hadn’t helped him get his fastball back up to speed, and neither had the surgery. Alan’s offer of a partnership had given him something to work toward instead of pining for a career that had slipped away.

  Besides, he couldn’t complain. He wasn’t the only one who’d had to quit playing professionally. At least his kids still had both their parents, even if one was in Florida and the other in Vermont. Alan had been forced to do it all on his own, and Ruben hadn’t heard him bitch once about how his life had been turned around inside out.

  “Then what is it?” Alan asked in a low voice as he stood up as well. He shrugged out of his wet T-shirt and tossed the thin cotton over his shoulder. Ruben looked away from his broad shoulders and trim waist, squashing the familiar tug of longing. “You used to tell me everything, Ruben.”

  There used to be a time when Ruben could tell him everything, but he wasn’t about to pressure Alan with the stupid, unrequited love whine. He knew where Alan stood when it came to the two of them and that was okay. Ruben’s “what ifs” were all his own. But if anybody would understand how much Ruben missed his kids, it would be his best friend.

  “I will,” Ruben assured him. “Just not now. Later, when the boys are in bed. Right now I just want to chill and break out the grill.”

  “I’ll hold you to that.” Alan turned his gaze on Matt, who was attempting to run and hold onto his falling diaper at the same time. “First, I have a renegade to take care of before he decides to strip naked.”

  Ruben chuckled and slipped off his own shirt to drape over the deck railing. “Jonah is the same way, so good luck. It doesn’t change as they get older, it only gets more inappropriate.”

  Chapter 2

  “MATT, Seth, say good night to your uncle and let’s head upstairs,” Alan said as he stepped out onto the back porch.

  Matt immediately stuck his lower lip out in a sulk and looked to Ruben for rescue, as Seth protested, “Mikey and Brett get to stay up. I wanna stay up too.”

  “Zip it,” Alan cut in before Seth could really get started. His son was a champion debater at four years old, and if Alan gave him a chance, he’d find a way to successfully argue for a later bedtime. “They’ll be following soon. When you turn six you can stay up an extra half hour too.”

  “No, no, no, no, no.” Matt clung to Ruben’s shirt with one chubby hand and swatted at Alan with the other. “Bed bad. Bad bed.”

  “Let me.” Ruben stood up and secured his arm around Matt’s waist. The imp let out a squawk when he realized he’d been betrayed and tried to wiggle out of Ruben’s embrace. “I haven’t put them down in a while.”

  Alan was about to tell Ruben he didn’t have to bother, but something about the set of his mouth and the slump of his shoulders stopped him. He knew how much Ruben missed his own kids and now that it was getting close to their summer visit, the house must seem extra cold and quiet. If Ruben wanted to listen to Matt and Seth’s last-minute wrangling, who was he to stop him?

  “You don’t have to twist my arm. One story, that’s what they get. Don’t let the hooligans tell you anything else.”

  “I was a pro at this when you were still freaking out about your first diaper change.” Ruben snagged Seth as he tried to make a dodge for the lawn and scooped him up as well. “Gotcha, little hooligan.”

  Seth began giggling, and that was enough to pull Matt out of his sulks. He ceased struggling and patted Ruben’s cheek. “Unca? What’s hool’gan?”

  “You are.” Ruben blew a raspberry on his neck, and Matt shrieked with laughter before Ruben did the same to Seth.

  Alan watched them go with a sense of relief and grabbed a deck chair. As soon as the boys were in bed, he planned to get some answers out of Ruben. For as close as they were, sometimes Ruben could be maddeningly distant. He stewed and brooded until he made some crazy-assed decision that seemed to come from nowhere, leaving Alan feeling like a bombshell had been dropped on him. Alan refused to let that happen again.

  From the stairwell, Alan heard Matt’s shriek of “noooooo,” and chuckled. It was kind of nice to share bedtime duty with Ruben. Alan knew he’d been leaning more on his friend than he should. He didn’t want to take advantage of Ruben’s willingness to help just because there were some nights when he found being a single parent a little daunting. He didn’t know how Cassandra had done it all those times Alan had been on the road.

  “Dad?”

  “I’m right here, buddy.” Alan waved to Brett to show him he hadn’t left the back deck. Brett was getting better about not freaking out when he couldn’t find him, but he still had his moments. The uncertainty came from having his mom there one morning, celebrating the newest member of their family, and gone the next. Alan couldn’t beg
in to imagine his son’s confusion and heartbreak.

  And Alan still couldn’t think of Cassandra without a twist of guilt that made him ache. She’d deserved better than a husband who traveled so often and spent far more time with his best friend than with her.

  “Okay.” Brett waved back and returned to playing whatever game it was that he’d devised with Mikey.

  The bedroom light overlooking the deck came on and Alan glanced up as Ruben closed the blinds. Lately, it seemed like Ruben was drifting further away, and Alan couldn’t figure out what to do to stop it. Sometimes, he just wanted to go back to how they’d been before Ruben had gotten it into his head to kiss him. That was when everything went weird. Alan still didn’t know what Ruben had been thinking, and he’d tried to blame it on the postgame celebration, but that didn’t explain his own reaction to that spontaneous kiss.

  Admittedly, it had been hot. Alan had noticed other men before and had always dismissed it, telling himself that he was just comfortable enough with who he was that he could notice. But Ruben was in a league all his own, and Alan had seemed to notice that more often. Didn’t matter; they had both been married at the time, and Alan had made it clear it couldn’t happen again. It was too late, though—the damage had been done. He couldn’t stop himself from looking at Ruben differently, thinking things he shouldn’t, wanting to explore more until he thought the guilt would eat him alive.

  When Ruben had left for Tampa, it had been a relief at first. Alan had seen it as a chance to get back to the friendship they’d had without the awkwardness of emotions and desires they didn’t need. Yeah, right. He’d missed Ruben with a painful ache that had left him confused and lost. When the relief faded, he’d been hurt and angry that Ruben hadn’t discussed the move with him first. They were best friends.

  It didn’t help that Alan obsessed over him going. He wanted to know what Ruben had been thinking. He wanted to know why, yet he was still… a little afraid of the answers he might hear.

  “Got it! No, dangit!” A shout from Mikey drew Alan’s attention from his brooding thoughts, and he stood up to see what they were doing. The fireflies had emerged, their gentle light blinking on and off as Mikey and Brett chased them on the back lawn. Alan smiled; he’d loved doing that on lazy summer nights too. “Make sure you let them out of the jar before you go to bed, guys.”

  “Uh-huh,” Brett said, showing Mikey how to cup his hands around the insect and transfer it to the jar, where a couple others were already incarcerated.

  “It tickles.” Mikey giggled.

  Alan let them play for a little longer, his thoughts returning to Ruben. Something had happened recently, something that hurt him. He was pretty good at hiding it, but Alan had known him long enough to recognize the signs, the inward air of preoccupation, the defensive tightening around his dark-brown eyes. There was a time when Alan believed Ruben would tell him anything, but then he’d switched teams and Alan realized how wrong he’d been.

  Still, when Ruben had come back to play in Boston, their friendship had been stronger than ever. He’d been there for Ruben through his divorce, and Ruben had helped him to keep it together after Cassandra’s sudden death. Then Ruben had been injured and he’d leaned on Alan throughout his painful rehab and coming to terms with the realization that his career was over. They’d built a place for themselves in this bustling town off Lake Champlain.

  There had been only one other incident between them, which should have been a good thing, they’d moved on, yet it continued to bother Alan like poking at a sore tooth. He couldn’t figure out Ruben’s mindset then or now, whether he’d ever wanted to kiss him again, or if it had been a random moment of temporary insanity. Alan had thought of kissing Ruben; hell, he’d thought of a lot more, but after the way he’d shut Ruben down cold twice, it was asking for trouble to even consider the notion. He needed their friendship too much to risk fooling around with it.

  Alan called Mikey and Brett in, then sent them running upstairs to get ready for bed. He followed the noise of their stampede and stopped in the doorway to Seth and Matt’s room. They were settled in their bed and crib, their attention focused on Ruben, who was reading to them from Fox in Socks and managing the tongue twisters far better than Alan could.

  Alan leaned against the door to listen as well. He loved the sound of Ruben’s voice, the faint lilting accent he still had even though he’d lived Stateside since he was eighteen. Whenever he’d visit his mom in San Juan, he’d come back with his accent a little stronger for the following weeks. Alan trailed his gaze over Ruben—the warm brown of his skin, the close-cropped mass of black curls, the dark shadow along his jaw. His friend was a good-looking man, though Alan was pretty sure he’d have the same reaction to him even if he was scarred, ugly, or put on sudden weight.

  “Uncle Ruben?” Seth sat up, interrupting Ruben’s story.

  “Yeah, little man?” Ruben shut the book, keeping the place with his finger, and focused his attention on Seth.

  “Did you know my mommy?”

  Alan went still as shock jolted through him. Mentally, he told Ruben to find a way to drop the subject. Every time he thought of Ruben and Cassandra in the same sentence, it brought a wave of remembered guilt and shame. It didn’t help that deep down, he wished he and Ruben had gone further. Even three years after the last incident, Cassandra was still a hot-button topic.

  Ruben shifted in the chair and set the book aside as Matt sat up too, his blue eyes widening. “Mama?”

  “Yeah, I knew her. She was a good lady. She liked to smile.” Ruben paused, cocked his head, then half turned to glance at Alan in the doorway. He had an uncanny knack for knowing when Alan was nearby; even if he remained silent, somehow Ruben always knew.

  “Did she love me?” Seth asked, and Ruben turned back to him. Alan’s son had such a hopeful look on his face that Alan couldn’t blame Ruben for not being able to respond, even as the sharp edge twisted deeper. The boys should be asking him these kinds of questions, not Ruben.

  “Very much,” Ruben replied softly.

  “Me?” Matt asked, climbing to his feet and clinging to the railing of his crib. “Me?”

  “Absolutely.” Ruben rose to lay Matt back in his crib. “Your dad and all of you boys made her very happy.”

  There were times, like now, when Alan wished Ruben had remembered that detail the night he’d kissed him. All of those crazy urges he’d had as a teenager had been left in the past until then. Alan had been comfortable, secure with his career, his family, his friendships… and Ruben had turned that all upside down with one incredible kiss.

  “I can take over from here.” There was an edge to Alan’s voice he tried to hide from the boys, but from the way Ruben stiffened, Alan knew he’d heard it. There was so much left unsaid between them that they’d gotten used to listening for the subtle nuances in their voices. And the weight of all those unsaid words seemed especially heavy tonight. “Why don’t you grab us a couple beers and wait for me downstairs?”

  “Sure.” Ruben smoothed Matt’s blankets and ruffled Seth’s hair. As he passed Alan, their gazes clashed. Alan had the hot temper—it came and went in a flash of lightning—but not Ruben, Ruben let things smolder until they couldn’t be held back anymore. And from the look in his eye, that simmering kind of heat that had gotten them into trouble before had been building for a while.

  Maybe it would be best for them both if Ruben went home. Alan would calm down before morning and things would go on as they always had. Alan sighed and closed his eyes. And then there would be yet another thing unspoken between them. If they kept this up, they’d end up not talking at all, and that thought brought a sharp, aching pain. He’d lost his career and his boys’ mother; he couldn’t lose Ruben too.

  “Daddy?”

  Alan looked at Seth, who had a worried frown, and forced himself to smile. “Yeah, Seth?”

  “Are you mad?”

  The last thing Alan wanted was for the boys to think they couldn’t talk abou
t their mom, not that Seth could remember her all that well, and to Matt she was a picture and stories. It was his responsibility to keep the memories of her alive in their minds. He needed to do a better job if his younger ones were turning to Ruben instead of him. Perhaps he’d paid too much attention to Brett’s anxieties and not the others’.

  “No, I’m not mad.”

  He put away the book Ruben had left out and tucked the boys in. They didn’t ask any more questions, and Alan wasn’t sure how to volunteer the answers. He paused in the doorway and looked back at them. Matt had already kicked his blanket off and Seth had curled onto his side, resting his fist on his cheek. “You know you can talk about your mom anytime you want, right?”

  “Yeah, I know,” Seth mumbled. “Love you, Daddy.”

  “I love you too.” Alan flipped off the light, then crossed the hall to check on Mikey and Brett, who scrambled for their beds when they spotted him. He got them settled as well, half of his mind on Ruben waiting downstairs. He listened for the sound of the door, both hoping to hear it and knowing he’d be disappointed if Ruben did leave.

  After good-night kisses and an admonishment to remain in bed, Alan left them to go to sleep and went downstairs to look for Ruben. He found him on the back porch, sipping his beer and staring out over the lake. The breeze coming off the water leached the heat out of the day, leaving it pleasant. The sun was almost gone, and lights were coming out along the shore in a glittering strand. Alan paused and tried to let the peace of the scene sink into him, but the confused welter of emotions roiling inside him wasn’t making it easy.

  Ruben opened another beer and held it up for Alan without turning around. Alan took it, though he had no interest in drinking. No matter how he said this, it was going to sting, and they both knew it was coming so there was no point in hedging. They’d had this conversation once before. “Ruben, I don’t want you talking about my wife.”

  Ruben closed his eyes, his heavy brows drawing together as he pressed his lips tight. “They asked. What was I supposed to say? They’re young; they don’t know what’s taboo and what isn’t. They’ve got friends at Miss Sarah’s who have mothers, and they know theirs is gone. They’re still trying to make sense of it; of course they’re going ask questions.”