Batter Up: Up Series Book 2

by Robin Leaf

  “That’s almost exactly the version of my dream that feels real,” she admitted quietly. She stood and picked up our dishes. “I think you left out a few details though.” She moved to the kitchen.

  Oh, this was not going well. All my super-heroic restraint, turning away from my chance to finally have Etta so I didn’t ruin everything, was for nothing. I was, right at this moment, going to lose her anyway. I could feel it. I. Was. Freaked.

  I heard the water run and the dishes clinking as she put them in the dishwasher, which is probably the first time she did that in the history of us living together. However, it didn’t register fully. I knew she was going to walk out of my life, and I couldn’t think of a thing to stop her.

  It wasn’t until she walked to the couch, sat down, turned on the TV and resumed her Buffy-a-thon, which she hadn’t done in two months, that I turned to look at her.

  “You gonna watch with me?” she asked.

  What?

  This woman confused me.

  “Yeah, sure.” I got up and sat on my end of the couch. After a few minutes, I grabbed the remote and hit pause. “Wait, I’m confused. Now we just go back to the way things were? Before…”

  She turned to face me. “You told the truth, Nathaniel. If you hadn’t, we would have had a problem.” She looked down at her hands. “And I think I understand why you kept it from me.”

  “Okay, explain to me what you think you understand.”

  “Well, you didn’t want me to feel bad,” she looked back at the TV, “that you rejected me.”

  “That’s not it at all, Etta.” I moved closer to her and grabbed her hand, linking our pinkies together. “You obviously don’t remember everything correctly.” I lifted our pinkies to my mouth, and her eyes widened. She inhaled sharply. “I stopped because it was wrong to take advantage of you. I stopped because I thought the drugs were making you do something you wouldn’t have normally done. I stopped because I knew when you woke up, you wouldn’t remember.” I leaned in closer, lowering my voice to a whisper. “And walking away from you that night was the hardest thing I’ve ever done in my life.”

  She swallowed. Her eyes closed and her eyebrows furrowed. Torn. She was torn.

  “What, Etta? What are you thinking right now?”

  She shook her head. Always so stubborn.

  “Please,” I whispered, pushing a piece of hair behind her ear. “Tell me.”

  She opened her eyes and focused on my face. “I’m kinda wishing I had remembered the next day.”

  Yes!

  “But,” she grabbed my hand, “I didn’t. And I think that’s for the best.” She traced the back of my hand with her fingers. “I’ve told you before, I love our relationship. And I really want to focus on school this year. If I keep up what I’m doing, I’ll be able to graduate at the end of next summer.” She let go of my hand and put her hands over her face. “God, that makes me sound like a colossally selfish bitch.” She looked me in the eye. “You know how important you are to me, Nathaniel, right?”

  No. “Sure.”

  “And I just don’t want things to get weird between us.”

  “Because they haven’t been weird the last two months, huh?”

  “Yeah, that was my fault, I know.” She smiled. “I’ll stop. I promise.” She snuggled into the couch. “Now, can you push play already? I’ve had some serious Buffy withdrawal, which I’m pretty sure is responsible for all my weirdness.”

  “So let me get this straight. We’re just going to go back to the pre-party days where we are roommates and friends?”

  She moved closer to me and wrapped her arms around my left arm, placing her chin on my shoulder. “Please. I need you back as my best friend. Beth is great, but she doesn’t share my fondness for Vampire shows and Adam Sandler movies like you do. And she never boiled anything for me. Ever.” She smiled. “Please, Nathaniel.”

  “Stop begging. You know it always works.”

  She moved back to her side of the couch. I’m pretty sure, if I heard her correctly, she muttered, “Not always.”

  Twenty One

  December 23, last year

  It had been three full weeks since I’d seen Etta. I was still visiting the clinic for rehab appointments, but I scheduled them for the times I knew she’d be teaching or working in the lab. At first, being in the clinic was awkward after our big blow up, but after a few days, it settled down.

  I chose to avoid her, knowing full well that I was putting my rehab at risk. I even requested that she have nothing to do with my case. I needed time, time away from her. Andre warned that without her expertise, things would move incredibly slowly, which was true. I made double the progress in one week with her than I have made in three weeks with her minions. But at least I was making progress.

  Despite the slow progress I was making, I was glad I had walked away from Etta. Jake, Ashley and even Mom had encouraged me to reach out to Etta and tell her the truth. Jake offered again to do it for me, but I made him promise to stay out of it.

  Mom finally admitted that Etta told her at their ill-fated lunch date six years ago what she thought she saw. The reason they argued was because Mom defended my honor. I couldn’t fully understand why Mom never told me this news. She tried to tell me that it was because she didn’t want to upset me. C’mon. Mom never worried about upsetting me a day in my life. She believed in hard truths. I think the real reason is because she feared it might be true. I mean, what mother wants to find out that the son she raised was a royal douche bag? I really couldn’t even be angry at her for keeping her mouth shut. No. That I reserved exclusively for Etta.

  I’d had a lot of time to think about things. I had looked back at my entire relationship with Etta and realized one thing: she pretty much jerked me around the entire time. Flirted with me, made me fall for her, moved in with me, tantalized me, only to push me away repeatedly. I convinced myself that she was protecting herself because she didn’t know where I stood, but honestly, if she didn’t know how I felt about her, she was so very stupid. I’d proven to her time and time again how much I cared about her. Even when I finally did open my heart to her, she shut me down.

  And she did it repeatedly.

  And in the end, she believed I was a colossal asshole. Nice.

  So you know what?

  Screw her!

  I really needed to cut my losses. Move on. Find someone else.

  There was a problem with that. I. Still. Loved. Her.

  When it comes to loving someone for ten years, I think it becomes almost like part of the DNA or something. I can’t remember what it was like living without loving her.

  I tried before to get along without her, but then, I had baseball to keep me company. When I first began playing, I will admit that I did get swept up in the sea of women who surround ball players. It wasn’t like a different woman every night, but there were a few at first, maybe like ten the first year. I slowed way down really quickly. When I got particularly lonely, I did partake in a random hook up here and there, probably two a year, but it always felt wrong. That hollow emptiness just got hollower and emptier with each girl. I felt like I was betraying something that had never existed.

  Before Ciara, the underwear supermodel, I felt especially lonely after a two-year dry spell, so I briefly dated one woman, the first I had seriously dated since high school. Carmen was sweet and fun, until she started talking about marriage and commitment around the tenth date. We were finished quickly after that when I told her I wasn’t going to marry her, especially any time soon. Turns out she just wanted to be a baseball player’s wife. She ended up marrying our third baseman less than six months later. Nothing like being around a guy who knew full well that I fucked his wife. Awkward didn’t begin to cover it. It almost made it worth my injury to not have to deal with the way she tried to rub her happy marriage in my face like I’d be jealous. Honestly, I was happy that she found what she wanted, as long as it wasn’t with me.

  Then came Ciara, whose real nam
e was Cindy. Blonde with big, soulful, crystal blue eyes. Sweet and driven. Way more mature than her age. She knew about Etta before I even told her. No one told her anything; she just knew I loved someone from my past. We met at some benefit, I forget which one, and talked all night. Some paparazzi took our picture together, and our “relationship” snowballed from there. Anytime she had a function where she needed an escort, I went. It was her agent’s idea to have us appear to be dating. I used the relationship for my personal gain as well. At least it briefly got Mom off my back.

  I liked Ciara’s company just fine, but to be honest, I did have a problem with the age difference; she was barely twenty. There was no way I could sleep with her. Plus, her MMA-fighting real boyfriend, the one who her agent thought would damage her wholesome image, did intimidate me a little. I mean, at first he did; we actually became friends, well enough for him to recommended a tattoo artist for me. Once Ciara and I “broke up,” it kind of ended our friendship.

  I did get a hell of a tattoo artist out of the deal. Tater’s take on the design idea I brought to him went above and beyond my expectations. Except that now, I was having a little tattoo remorse in the wake of my latest drama. I couldn’t even look at myself in the mirror if I was shirtless.

  One of the stipulations of the tattoo was that it be totally undetectable with a shirt on. It wraps from my left shoulder to my chest, snakes down my left side and ends on my left hip. Why the left? It’s Etta’s side. I’ve had seven sessions total, not in a row, because it hurt like a sonofabitch. I have added to it periodically, which was all part of the plan. At first glance, it’s an intricate tribal design, similar to the design of Samoan tattoos. In fact, no one can tell, unless they’re looking for it, what it actually is.

  The question is do I really regret getting it? Right now, yes. Why? Because I did the big tattoo taboo. I tattooed Etta’s name on me. Permanently. But again, no one can tell it says that. Not even Jake knows. That’s the beauty of Tater’s design. He took the idea from the old sketch I kept for eight years and ran with it. He’s a friggin genius, despite the fact that he has that unfortunate moniker, and he was known for his discretion, a necessity when a person is famous.

  The plan was to finish the tattoo after my season was over, but of course, since my injury, I haven’t been back to L.A. I called Tater in October and explained my predicament. We postponed things until I could make it back, except he called me last week and said he would be in Houston for Christmas. He offered to meet me at a buddy’s shop later this week to finish the tattoo. I initially agreed, but as I looked in the mirror fresh out of the shower, contemplating the stupidity of the whole thing, I thought about cancelling.

  I shook off the feeling and remembered my plans with Miles this evening. I really needed to be in a better mood when I met up with him. Since our trip to the zoo, Miles and I kept in pretty regular contact. He would text or call periodically just to talk about Texans games or various other things. Therefore, since one of the surprises I had arranged for Etta was three 50 yard line club-level tickets to yesterday’s football game for her, Miles and me, I figured it didn’t mean I couldn’t still take her brother. So Miles and I went with Jake instead.

  This was one of those times that being famous really rocked. I could do things like call in “favors” for occasions like this and not worry what it cost, enjoying pro football games in style. We all had a great time, and although I had a hard time with the fact that Miles was the spitting image of Etta, he was a pretty cool kid. And he never asked about what happened between his sister and me. I was worried he would.

  So when Miles texted me and asked if I would meet him at a Mexican restaurant close to his parents’ house in Pearland for dinner, I, of course, agreed, after he assured me that Etta would not be there. He said he wanted to take me out to dinner as a thank you for the game. No way was I going to let him pay, but he didn’t need to know that until later. I really did like the kid.

  I walked into the restaurant, actually looking forward to the meal, not just because it had been a while since I’d eaten here. That is until I rounded the corner and saw who else he had invited. Not only had he lied about Etta being there, but Emily was there as well. Both women sat, arms crossed, glaring daggers at their little brother. I thought of walking away, but honestly, I was a little more than curious about what the devious little shit of a thirteen year old had in mind by bringing us all together. Plus, I thought the kid might need to be rescued.

  “What did you do, Miles?” I asked. Both women startled and looked up at me.

  “You invited HIM, too?” Etta asked, raising her voice. People started to stare. She stood to leave, but I blocked her path.

  “Don’t embarrass him further, Etta,” I instructed calmly. I was more than a little irritated at the little shit myself, but I kind of felt bad for the kid. He looked like he wanted to disappear into the floor. “Please sit back down and see what this is about.”

  Etta never looked at me, but she sat back down. I slid into the chair next to Miles. “Whatever this is, it’s probably not going to work out like you wanted it to, Miles,” I whispered. I faced Emily and smiled weakly. “Emily, it’s been a long time.”

  “Yeah, hi, Nate,” Emily nodded. “How’s the knee?”

  “Not progressing like I want it to,” I looked toward Etta, who studied her menu. “But that’s another story.” I turned back toward Miles. “Now, do you care to explain why you have brought us all here together, or do I leave and allow your sisters to rip you to shreds?”

  “Hi, I’m Trish, your server for this evening. What can I get you to drink?”

  While everyone gave their drink orders, I noticed Miles looked a little more panicked. I asked the waitress if we could go ahead and order to give the kid some time to gather his courage. This restaurant was always Etta’s and Emily’s favorite years ago, so I knew they would already know what they wanted. Etta brought me here almost every time we picked up Miles together when he was little; she always ordered the same thing. She didn’t disappoint this time, either.

  When Trish sashayed away, I turned back to Miles. “Now, spill it.”

  “Okay,” he started. “I figured I’d get you all together to talk. I know that whatever caused you two to stop talking,” he pointed to Emily and Etta, “happened when Nate left. Yesterday, Jake told me that this all stemmed from a case of mistaken identity…”

  “Wait, you talked to Jake yesterday?” I asked.

  “Well, yeah. No one tells me anything around my family, so, when you went to restroom, I asked Jake if he knew what happened. That’s what he said, mistaken identity, and it’s all he said. So, when I got home last night, I thought about it. What’s the one thing that would make Etta so mad at Emily that she wouldn’t speak to her for so long, and what would make her so mad at you that she wouldn’t contact you for the same amount of time? Then I figured it out. She thought Emily hooked up with you.”

  “Miles,” Etta seethed through gritted teeth, “enough!”

  “Hey,” I said. “He’s not wrong.” I turned toward Miles. “You’re pretty smart, kid, although you really shouldn’t be getting in the middle of all this.”

  “Wait,” Emily interrupted and turned toward Etta. “You think I had sex with Nate? That’s what this whole eight-year freeze-out was about?” She threw her hands up. “What the hell, Etta?”

  Etta turned the death glare on Emily. “I saw you! On the couch with him, right after he tried to profess his love to me. You, with him!” She pointed to me.

  “Holy shit, Eddie! You saw me having sex with Jake, not Nate.”

  Nice time for Trish to deliver our drinks. But Emily didn’t let it slow her down, although she did lower her voice.

  “You mean all this time, the reason you didn’t speak to me was because you thought I would betray you that way? You never said anything? You never even asked me!” Emily took a drink of her soda. “Well that just friggin blows. What kind of person do you think I am, anyway? Ser
iously, Eddie?”

  “It was… Jake?” Etta whispered in disbelief.

  “Yes,” I said casually. “It was Jake.” She turned toward me, the look of shock on her face was almost comical. I took a chip and dipped it in green sauce. “You didn’t even consider that possibility at the time, did you?” I leaned forward and bit the chip. “You wasted all that time angry and upset when a simple question would have cleared this up years ago.” I leaned back in my chair and turned toward Miles, whose expression was not much different than Etta’s. “I’m betting she didn’t even tell Beth what she thought she saw, because if she had, she’d have found out that I was with Chris the entire time, out searching for her. Nope. She never talked about it.” I finished my chip and smiled calmly. “See, Miles, I’m not sure if you’re aware, but your sister is pretty stubborn and would prefer to believe the worst and keep it to herself rather than talk about it to anyone. She would rather carry a grudge and avoid the conflict than have it out with her twin. She would rather be miserable in her own beliefs, which were all based on one big lie,” I locked eyes with Etta, “than ever risk the possibility of happiness for fear that her heart might get broken.”

  “And still my heart got annihilated,” Etta whispered.

  “Yeah,” I stood up. “But not by me. You can thank yourself for that one. And in the process, you demolished two other hearts.” I leaned over and whispered. “And I’m not sure the damage can be fixed.” I nudged Miles. “C’mon, kid. Let’s get our food to go and you and I can get out of here.” I threw some bills on the table. “It seems your sisters have some things to discuss.”

  He stood and helped me find Trish to box up our orders. Once we were in the car, he spoke.

  “I’m sorry, Nate.”

  “It’s not your fault, Miles. Honestly, without you, this might never have come out.” I pushed him playfully on his arm. “You actually did a good thing. I was angry at first, but you got guts, kid, putting us all together like that. It was a good move.”