Calling It

by Jen Doyle

  She took in a ragged breath. Although there was the whole D.B. issue, she begrudgingly said, “Well, I guess...”

  He didn’t give her time to add in a but. Instead, he shoved his foot in the door she’d just allowed a tiny bit open. “Nothing happened with—”

  “Vendela the second and Tyra Banks junior?” She couldn’t help it. “I mean, they’re the ones who would have been on your wall growing up, right? I get it; the fantasy thing.” Obviously, considering the circumstances of this conversation, which kind of made her head spin.

  “First of all,” he said, back to sounding amused, “it’s frightening that you know that. I’ll have to make sure Deke doesn’t add in any SI cover girl questions to future trivia nights. And I was actually going to say with Courtney. But more importantly...” The amusement faded and the only thing in his voice was heat. Pure unadulterated fire, although not of the good and passionate kind. He actually sounded majorly pissed off. “I told you exactly what my fantasy is—you. Nothing about that has changed. As much as I tried to convince myself that you were right—that we were wrong... It just isn’t true.”

  Now Dorie was sitting down and back to desperately trying not to cry. She hated this. She couldn’t conceive that that was actually possible; it wasn’t any easier now than it had been a month ago. She wanted so badly to believe him, though, that it actually hurt. And all she could think to say was, “What do you want from me?”

  She sounded like a wounded animal; he probably heard it and had no idea how to reply. The fact that he didn’t answer right away made it that much worse. Terrifying for reasons she couldn’t even name. And she was afraid he’d tell her again that he loved her. If he’d even asked again for her to believe him she, well... She didn’t know. It was a leap of faith that she wasn’t able to make. Not right now. Not yet.

  “I want to call you again tomorrow,” he gruffly answered. “And I want you to promise to pick up the phone and talk to me.”

  The tears that had begun to well up in her eyes stopped.

  Thank God. Oh, thank God, that was something she could do. “Okay.”

  * * *

  She’d said okay.

  Nate clutched the phone to his chest and squeezed his eyes shut. He honestly hadn’t known which direction she’d go—and he had no idea what he would have done if she’d chosen the alternative. But she’d given him an inch...and it felt like a mile. Winning the World Series hadn’t been this good.

  For the first time in a month, he drifted off to sleep with a smile on his face. It felt like he’d only had his eyes closed for a few minutes, but when he opened them again, the sun was shining and the birds were chirping. He’d slept so soundly that he was still holding the phone in his hand. Which was good; he had another call to make.

  For once he was glad that his name got him put immediately through. “Pete. I need your help; Mark and Alexis, too. This one’s complicated.”

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  In honor of the town’s favorite son—and, yes, in an attempt to bring kids into the library no matter what it took—Dorie had designated one of the back rooms as the new media center. She’d gotten two huge flat screen TVs and subscriptions to every sports channel there was. The rule with the teens was that they could use it as a study room as long as the sound stayed off.

  This afternoon, Dorie made an exception. Although she had a billion things to do, she stood in the doorway watching the game, along with just about everyone else who’d ventured into the library that day. After a string of abominably bad games, Nate hadn’t just turned it around, he was on fire.

  “Turn it up!” one of the kids wearing a Bombers basketball sweatshirt yelled from the front of the room.

  “I will if you act civilized,” Dorie answered, pointing the remote toward him like a, well, pointer.

  “Yes, ma’am,” he answered meekly. “Please.”

  She complied more happily than she let on. Having been desperately trying to ignore Nate’s existence for these past few weeks, she hadn’t watched a single game. But she was well aware of the downward spiral he’d been in with the exception of the very beginning of spring training. And today it was beyond thrilling to hear the commentators go on about how he’d turned it around. Not just that, how he looked like he was enjoying the game again for the first time since spring training had begun.

  “A lot of people have been wondering if those first few games were just a fluke,” one of them was saying. “And given the uncertainty caused by the events during the off-season, frankly, I’m not sure anyone believed we’d see the old Nate Hawkins again. But this is something that a whole lot of people have been waiting for. If he keeps it up, this could be a year to remember.”

  “Dare I say future Hall-of-Famer, Matt?” his partner asked.

  With a smile, Dorie ducked her head down. She had to admit, she did get a bit of a rush knowing that the day after they’d spoken on the phone he was back to playing “future Hall-of-Famer” level baseball.

  For the first time in weeks, the adrenaline coursing through her was a blessing rather than a curse, and she came back to her apartment in an amazingly good mood. Which was a good thing because Fitz was waiting for her when she returned. And all that buzz helped Dorie gear up for making the apology she owed the woman after avoiding Fitz for these past few weeks. She wasn’t even mad that Fitz was probably here because Nate had wanted someone to check up on her.

  But Fitz, it seemed, wasn’t here because of that. Instead, she came right out and said, “I don’t care what’s going on—or not—between you and Nate. You’re the only friend I have in this whole damn town who doesn’t know my entire life story and I came to see if you might like to go for a run. Or hang out. Or...” She shrugged her shoulders. “Or whatever.”

  With a smile that was bigger than it probably should be, Dorie leaned back against her door and crossed her arms over her chest. “You realize that the whole idea of friends is that they kind of should know each other’s whole life story. Right?”

  Fitz’s smile matched Dorie’s own. “Let’s make a deal. I won’t ask about Nate and you don’t ask about Deke. Other than that, everything’s fair game.”

  Dorie only barely managed to keep her eyebrows from shooting up. She’d been so caught up in what was going on between her and Nate that she’d never really tuned in to anyone else’s drama. Fitz and Deke? Really? But she resisted the temptation of asking—for now at least, no way in hell that one was staying under wraps—and stuck her hand out to shake on it. “Deal.”

  Although it all went out the window—well, on Dorie’s end at least; she still couldn’t get a single thing out of Fitz—when Nate called her not just that night, but then the night after that, and the one after that one, as well. In fact, every time they’d come close to saying goodbye, he’d make that same request of her: pick up the phone just one more time.

  By the fifth day of phone calls, he didn’t need to ask—and Dorie found herself spilling her guts to Fitz. Messily.

  “Do you love him?” Fitz asked.

  And, yes, after a week of being worn down by Nate’s relentlessness, she could finally admit that this was more than a childhood crush—that what they had was strong enough to make sacrifices for, to maybe even build upon. She’d tried to deny it for so long that just allowing the words to be spoken felt like allowing herself to breathe. “More than anything I’ve ever known,” she whispered.

  “And he told you he loves you?” Fitz asked, handing over a wad of tissues.

  Dorie sniffled her way through, “Pretty...much...every...day.”

  She looked up just in time to see the corner of Fitz’s mouth twitch. “But you still don’t believe him.”

  After blowing her nose in a distinctly unladylike fashion, Dorie could only be grateful she wasn’t having this conversation with Nate. Because what she still co
uldn’t quite get past and she told his sister, “He’s Nate Hawkins. How can this possibly work?”

  This time Fitz didn’t bother to hide her smile. Unknowingly echoing her brother’s words, she said, “Because if it’s what you want, then you’ll make it work.”

  And by two weeks in, Dorie realized that they were right. That if she was all about creating her own destiny, then, damn it, why couldn’t she figure out a way to make sure her dream man was in it?

  Because by that point she had no doubt that that’s who he was. And not because of the picture on the wall part, although she had allowed herself to start sneaking peeks at the Vanity Fair photo again. No. The man who’d held her in his arms, who’d taken her to heights she hadn’t ever imagined she could reach. He was right. It was real. He’d proven it to her every single one of the past seventeen nights as they’d talked on the phone.

  About her childhood and his. The training camp he wanted to start when he retired from baseball—that he was actually beginning to think about his retirement. The places she’d always wanted to go; the much-more-manageable-than-seven number of kids she’d want to be dragging along with her. And so much more.

  She could no longer make the excuse that it was only about the sex. Especially since he wasn’t even getting any. She’d attempted the phone version—once. It had been entirely unsuccessful.

  “Uh, Dorie,” he had said, “I think you need to actually talk about touching yourself; not just do it.”

  “But I can’t talk about it,” she had whispered, looking around her darkened bedroom as though Sister Mary Pat was going to suddenly materialize.

  Which was when she had realized he was laughing at her. She started laughing as well, stopping only when he quietly said, “Christ, Dorie...”

  He knew she wasn’t quite able to respond to anything like that yet and had quickly moved on to say, “I love you. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”

  But she hadn’t been ready to say goodbye. Not that time. And so she’d taken a big, long leap. “Wait. I had this idea the other day...”

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Boston, five weeks later

  Nate hesitated before stepping into the visitors’ locker room at Fenway. By now it was probably over a hundred people who knew what was going on, thanks to the arrangements he’d had to make to pull this off. If it didn’t work, it would be the biggest crash and burn in the history of the modern world.

  If nothing else, it would be a hell of a story to tell his grandchildren. Everyone from the owners of three ball clubs right down to the grounds crew and security teams were involved. And he had no doubt whatsoever that this would be talked about for some time, no matter how it turned out.

  Having Robbie here with him helped, and that was all thanks to Dorie. He loved her all the more for suggesting that Marcela and Robbie spend a few weeks in Arizona. They’d become as close to him as his family—sharing a death-defying experience did that, apparently. But, to be honest, Nate was pretty sure he was getting more out of it than they were, and he’d been thrilled when they agreed to come to Boston and be a part of this as well. It was actually kind of fitting. The light in Robbie’s eyes when he came into a ballpark—the look on Marcela’s face when she saw her son’s happiness... It made everything beyond clear.

  True love existed. Between a mother and her child, yes, but also between a man who had never expected to feel something so pure and a woman who resisted it almost with her entire being. And Nate had no idea what he’d do if the past month of proving it to her hadn’t been enough.

  So, yeah. Wheeling Robbie into the locker room was the only thing that kept him going.

  With a deep breath he pushed open the door and stopped suddenly. The whole team had come out. They had a game that night and one at eleven the next morning. Coach had said a few guys would be there this morning, guys who were well aware of the ups and downs he’d had in Arizona and who wanted to wish Nate luck.

  A few guys. Not the entire team.

  There was utter silence in the room until Tim Kozlowski came over, smiling. “You’re really about to do this, aren’t you?”

  A laugh escaped. “I guess I am.”

  After a hearty clap on the shoulder and a big bear hug, Tim stepped aside as the others crowded in, joking about another one biting the dust but pretty much happy all-around.

  A hush came over the room as Ox walked in and, seeing Nate, stopped short.

  Looking over at the man who was nearly as much a part of his history as Wash was, Nate gave the slightest of nods. There was still that flash of betrayal, but, as he’d recently come to realize, it was followed almost immediately by the biggest sense of relief ever. Just one minute in Dorie’s presence had shown him he’d been living half a life. That what he’d thought was the worst thing to ever happen to him would end up being the best.

  When Ox raised his eyes and met his gaze, the man nodded, as well. Then he gave the cocky grin that he was known for. “Calling all your favors in on this one, huh?”

  The grin came more easily than Nate knew it could. “Hell, yes, I am.”

  Ox threw Nate a White Sox jersey, and then turned his killer smile toward Robbie. “Well, as long as you guys are here, suit up. Let’s play some ball.”

  Nate wasn’t sure how the union would feel about this, but stepping on the field with his old team felt as natural as it ever had been, like he’d never been away. When Rico and a couple of the Boston players came down from the stands to join them, well... It was probably the best time he’d had playing ball since he left home.

  When they got back to the hotel a few hours later, Rico clapped him on the shoulder. “Don’t go getting any ideas, friend. We’re taking it all the way this year. You and me.” Then he and Robbie went to meet Marcela at the hotel’s restaurant.

  Not wanting it to get out that he was in Boston, Nate stayed in the room and had just turned on ESPN when his phone rang. Expecting it to be Rico checking in on him, he almost didn’t even bother to look at the phone before he answered.

  “Dorie,” he said, unable to keep the surprise out of his voice. She hadn’t called him since, well, ever, really. They’d been talking every day for over a month; twice a day for the last week. But he’d always been the one to call her. “Is everything okay?”

  There was silence and then, sounding a little nervous, she said, “Um, yes. Of course. Everything’s fine. Is this a bad time? I hate to bother you.”

  “Bother me?” He actually laughed, just from the sheer incredulity of it. “Sorry. You’re not bothering me. It’s not a bad time.” He stood up and went over to the window. He knew the city well enough to know that he was looking in the direction of her parents’ house. Though he’d give just about anything to be there with her right now, he had a plan and he was sticking to it. “But everything’s okay?”

  “Yes,” she hurriedly said. “Totally okay. I mean, as long as you’re not hanging out in Cincinnati with any swimsuit models, at least.”

  Cincinnati. Where, if he was playing tonight, he’d be taking batting practice right now. He smiled, glad she could joke about the models. “I can assure you I am not hanging out in Cincinnati with any swimsuit models.” He looked toward the lights of Fenway. At least that was the God’s honest truth.

  “So...” she said hesitantly. “That’s good.”

  “I think so.”

  He waited for another minute or two, figuring that whatever she was working herself up to say was going to be big. The longer she took to say it, though, the more on edge he became.

  “For God’s sake,” he finally said. “Just spit it out.”

  That prompted the low, warm laugh that drove him out of his mind. “You really can read me, can’t you?”

  “I guess that depends,” he said. “Because I’m gearing myself up for something big here, but I can�
�t tell if it’s a good thing or a bad one.”

  He heard the catch of her breath and clenched his fist against the thought that the last time a conversation had felt as monumental as this, she’d said goodbye. “Dorie...”

  “It was good to see you last week,” she said.

  “Likewise,” he managed, although that wasn’t even close to how it had felt to see her walk off that plane, even if the visit was officially so she could see how Marcela and Robbie were doing. She’d insisted on flying coach and staying at the airport hotel and had very deliberately, it seemed, avoided being alone with him, even on their trip to the Mesa Public Library, to which she’d dragged Rico and Troy along. The only exception was when she’d let him drive her back to the hotel and...

  “And that was a really nice kiss,” she added softly.

  He closed his eyes and rested his head against the window. All he needed to do was think of her standing there with her back to the door of her room and he was gone. “It was.”

  “You’re a really good kisser.”

  Holy Christ, she was killing him. “Dorie,” he said, his voice sounding strangled even to him. “I would love to go on reminiscing about every single moment I’ve spent with you. But you are seriously freaking me out right now.” He put his hand up against the glass just to steady himself, he was that worried about what she was trying to say.

  She sniffled. “I never cry,” she muttered, sounding as angry as she was upset. “Only over you.”

  Killing him. “Dorie.”

  “Okay,” she finally said, so firmly that he had a feeling it was more for her than for him. And then she was quiet for long enough that he was ready to break the space-time continuum and jump into the phone in order to pull a response out of her. But then she said, “So here’s the thing. If it weren’t for the fact that you’re one of Seamus’s star players on his fantasy baseball team, my brothers would have flown out and killed you by now because they were so pissed. I can’t honestly guarantee they still won’t hunt you down and try.”