Called Out

by Jen Doyle

  Now it was Jack’s turn to sit up a little straighter. He didn’t need the money, so it wasn’t about that. It sure as hell sucked, though, to be in the top tier for most of your career and then crash down into bargain basement territory. He liked top tier a whole lot better.

  “But...” Jack said, prompting Sam when the other man just left it there.

  Sam smiled. “But I’m not going to destroy the team we’ve been building just for the sake of the story.” He sat up straight, then leaned forward, going into deal-making mode. “I’d like to see you as a non-roster invitee at Spring Training. I don’t need the other guys to love you...”

  Good. Because love wasn’t an emotion Jack inspired among his teammates.

  “They’ve gotta have your back, though. And you need to have theirs.”

  Jack looked down to see he’d been gripping the ends of the armrests of his chair so hard his fingers were white. Well, fuck.

  He nodded curtly. “Spring training it is.”

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Jack’s apartment was a showplace. Literally. The second the door opened, Silas reached out to grab Lola’s hand and pull her inside, practically skipping with excitement. “Look at this! Babe Ruth’s practice glove!” he said, pointing to a museum quality display, all lit up and everything.

  “And this?” He led her over to another display case. “This is Jackie Robinson’s rookie card!”

  There was also a row of baseball caps hung in a straight line running down the hallway—from what appeared to be Little League all the way up through several versions of the White Sox—hanging opposite a series of stunning, oversize black-and-white photographs from what looked to be the 1930s and ‘40s, plus a whole lot of other memorabilia that would have looked right at home in Cooperstown. Lola would have loved to explore, but Silas was running further down the hall. She barely had a chance to smile over her shoulder at Jack.

  “Now look at this.” He led her into a bathroom of all things, which seemed a little odd, until she saw a bathtub bigger than the kiddie pool she put out back for the boys in the summer. This one didn’t have a big plastic shark, of course; it was all smooth lines and dark tile and even a wall of polished stones with a sheet of water running down them. Jack’s own personal waterfall.

  “Honey,” she said, once she put her eyes back into her head. “I’m sure Jack would prefer you not be showing me his bathroom.”

  “Jack is just fine,” said the man himself as he leaned against the doorjamb, watching her.

  Excitedly, Silas said, “Jack said that if we ever bring A, B and C here—”

  “I’m still partial to One, Two and Three,” Jack added.

  Lola huffed.

  “Then we can pretend it’s a pool.” Silas ran his hand through the wall of water. “Don’t you think that would be awesome?”

  Lola’s heart lurched. “It absolutely would.” She had to clear her throat over the sudden lump. “But I think we shouldn’t be making a lot of plans about all of us visiting Jack once he’s back in Chicago. He’ll be really busy after he leaves Inspiration.”

  Silas shrugged, which was a good thing, because Lola wasn’t sure she could say anything more without breaking into tears. Especially given the way Jack looked at her and then down at the floor. For all she knew he’d signed a contract earlier today. She had no idea how these things worked.

  “I bet you and Jack could fit in it,” Silas said, looking between them and the tub and back again.

  “I bet we could, too,” Jack said in a low, raspy voice that set all of her parts tingling in an entirely inappropriate way.

  Lola cleared her throat again. “You know, everyone else is in the living room. It’s not polite for us to be in here without them.” Translation: I feel all smooth and sexy and relaxed after my awesome spa day and I really need to be somewhere it’s not so easy to imagine being naked and wet with Jack. “Let’s go join them.”

  “Wait,” Silas said, taking her hand one more time. “I have just two more things to show you,” They passed Jack’s bedroom, complete with a king-size bed that she would’ve been interested in even if Jack weren’t its main occupant, and the Architectural Digest spread of Jack’s sunken living room where Dorie and Fitz were getting the recap of the day from Nate, Matty and Geo. The room past it was—

  “Watch this!” Silas picked up a remote and pointed it at the wall. A screen started to lower. He pointed it again and the screen went up. Her attention drawn to the huge leather chairs facing the wall and the popcorn machine, it took Lola a second to realize what Silas was doing. She snatched the remote out of his hand. “Please do not break the screen that probably cost more than our entire house.”

  She could never bring the triplets here. Oh, Lord, the damage they could do...

  Clearly reading her mind, Jack closed his hand over hers on the remote. Her body hummed at the contact. “Lola, it’s okay. I never use it anyway.”

  “You never use this,” she stated, not quite able to comprehend spending so much money on something that just sat there.

  He smiled down at her, taking advantage of Silas being otherwise occupied, and entwining his fingers with hers. “Well, the plan is to use it tonight. Silas and Matty picked out a bunch of movies. Who knows how long that’ll go on for?”

  She imagined the feel of his mouth on hers since she obviously wasn’t able to have the real thing. Looking up into his eyes and seeing his attention seemed to be equally focused, she licked her bottom lip and was rewarded by a rumble in his throat. “What ever will we do while they’re watching?”

  “I can only imagine,” he answered, all low and raspy again.

  “Okay,” Silas said, from behind her and she yanked her hand out of Jack’s. “Just one last thing.” He brought her back through the living room to go out to a balcony with a gorgeous view...as long as she didn’t look down. Focusing on the horizon out over Lake Michigan, Lola tried to still her heart. “Oh, my Lord.” The elevator had made her dizzy, but it was one thing to press the button for the forty-eighth floor, and another to realize you were standing on a patio that high up. She gripped the railing.

  “If you concentrate really hard,” Silas said, “you can feel the building move in the wind.”

  Lola squeezed her eyes shut. “We are never bringing One, Two and Three here.” She had not just said that. “James, Emmet and Luke,” she corrected over Silas and Jack’s laughter. “Inside,” she snapped.

  They joined the others in the living room, Silas gravitating toward Jack, and Jack unconsciously gravitating right back. She couldn’t decide which made her happier. The entire day made her happy, in fact. The only thing missing from her perfect spa day had been Jules, although they FaceTimed her in whenever possible. She’d had her own spa day with Emily and the boys “pampering” her, it seemed, although apparently when Emily had tried to explain what pampering meant, the boys thought she was talking about their old diapers. Full body wraps made of pull-ups were something to behold.

  Jack made dinner an event, with his chef—”A lot of players have them!” Jack insisted when everyone started teasing him about it—being the best sport ever, going so far as to serve up homemade macaroni and cheese on literal silver platters right alongside veggies and dip arranged to look like a Christmas stocking. There was even a printed menu noting the food was all according to Silas, Matty and Geo’s specifications.

  They were just finishing up dessert when Matty and Silas started talking about how it was “the coolest thing ever that they emptied the entire stadium for us.”

  “What?” Lola said, looking over at Nate and Jack. “That’s kind of...special.”

  “Why don’t we go check out those movies?” Jack said quickly, putting his napkin on the table and standing up.

  Lola was a single mother of four children. At any given time she had
ninety-two separate thoughts running through her head. There was no way he was going to distract her with that measly attempt. But she played along, helping settle the boys into their big reclining seats in the screening room, and even waiting for the popcorn to pop while the kids made their candy selections.

  Not until she was back at the dining room table a full twenty minutes later, did she turn to Jack. “Sam emptied out the stadium? Why would that be?”

  A look was exchanged between Nate and Jack before Nate leaned forward and started to give an explanation. But Jack cut him off and said, “Someone found out I was there with Nate, and Sam wanted to make sure no one got a picture of the kids with me.”

  Lulled into happiness by this wonderful day, Lola actually said, “So what?” She’d seen Jack with kids plenty of times before. Why would anyone care?

  Except within two seconds of the words coming out of her mouth, Lola realized she was being ridiculously naive. So much had changed since the day she’d met Jack on the side of the road. She’d almost forgotten how badly she’d wanted to keep Silas away from him, as if he had some horrible disease and letting her children get within sight of him would mean sudden death. Or, at the very least, the crumbling of their entire moral code. It both infuriated and devastated her. People didn’t know him. They’d pronounced their judgment and decided he was a horrible man. But Lola had done the very same thing herself, and she could only imagine the words she would have used to describe any idiot of a woman who would take up with someone like that, much less allow her hero-worshipping son anywhere near him.

  She closed her eyes against the sudden roar in her head.

  “I, uh...” Jack cleared his throat. “I made sure he stuck as close to Nate as possible and not me.” He paused for a minute. “But he was just having such a good time and I—”

  “Okay.” She forced a smile. “Thank you.” She stood up and started to clear some plates. “I’ve got this,” she said when Jack attempted to help. Then she turned and went through the door she’d seen the chef go through.

  It was a butler’s pantry. An honest-to-God butler’s pantry, complete with butler. Or, well, chef.

  She managed to have an actual conversation with the man—it soothed her to talk food, in fact—so by the time he disappeared into the kitchen she felt almost ready to go back. The door opened before she could, though. Nate. She fought off the urge to fall against him. The tears, however, were harder to keep at bay. Pressing the heels of her hands to her eyes did nothing to help.

  “What am I doing?” It wasn’t even like this would last more than a few weeks. “How could I not have thought about that with Si?”

  “Si had the time of his life,” Nate said, leaning back against the counter across from her. “The media never even—”

  “The media!” Lola actually laughed. It was that outrageous. “He’s leaving in a few weeks, Nate. And Si...”

  Having the grace not to say, Maybe you should have considered that, oh, two weeks ago when you let Jack move into your house with a goddamn puppy, Nate just watched her for a minute before saying, “He’ll be in Arizona, Lola, not six feet under the ground.” Reacting to what must have been pure shock on her face, he said, “Yes. I went there.” Then he took a step closer, hands going to her shoulders. “He was great with Silas. Based on today alone, I’m choosing him as godfather to my firstborn.”

  Lola managed to laugh again, actually meaning it this time. “That’s only because you want to piss off Dorie’s brothers.”

  Nate smiled. “Possibly. And think of the field day the media will have with that. It’s like a wet dream.” Then he pulled her in for a hug. “I know this all came out of nowhere and that it’s really complicated. Trust me, I am well aware.”

  Yeah, she bet he was.

  “But he won’t hurt Silas. I’d stake my life on that. So whatever you do, remember that.”

  She nodded shakily as she let him hug her again. She even managed not to cry as she made her way back to the kitchen, had a brand-new conversation with the chef as she made a fresh pot of coffee, and even found herself enjoying the rest of the night, putting it all aside until the others had left, taking Geo with them. But the second they were gone Lola turned to Jack.

  “You need to promise that whatever happens between you and me, you won’t shut Silas out of your life. After you leave—”

  “Lola,” Jack said, coming toward her.

  “—you need to send him an email every now and then. Or let him tag along with Jules when she and her kids come to see Nate.”

  “I want you to be the one with him when he visits.” He folded her into his arms.

  “I know,” she said, fighting the tears that threatened to fall. “But we both know this isn’t going to last. It doesn’t have to be the same with Silas. Just... Just promise me you won’t abandon him when you’re done with me.”

  He cupped her chin and tilted her head up until she had no choice but to look him in the eye. “I don’t ever want to be done,” he said with such conviction she actually believed it. Wanting something and the reality of it were two different things, however, and she knew a losing proposition when she saw one.

  “Just promise,” she said.

  Then he broke her heart all over again. “I was him once upon a time,” he said, staring down at her, “in so many ways. It’s probably the only promise I can ever make, but I swear to you, Silas is safe with me.”

  Which was...amazing. She believed it entirely because of one huge, glaring omission: if he’d been lying, he would have said she was safe with him, too.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Sometimes Jack felt as if he were in an alternate reality. One where he had a woman like Lola in love with him and he got to take her home and help the kids with homework and make love to her in their bed.

  The actual reality, of course, was that it wasn’t his house and they weren’t his kids and it certainly wasn’t his bed. Living half that life was pretty damn good, though, and he was going to milk it for everything it was worth. Take, for example, Trivia Night. He was aware of it as a thing, of course, but he’d never actually experienced one. It was a sight to behold. The Dream Boys vs. the Sisterhood—meaning the men vs. the women of Nate’s entire group of friends—was in itself almost worth the price of admission. In Jack’s case this meant helping out wherever needed, what with Deke being on one of the teams and Lola being the Quizmaster.

  Lola commanding the room as the Quizmaster.

  She was as beautiful up there in a pair of jeans and a T-shirt as she was all dressed up at Thanksgiving. He couldn’t take his eyes off her, so it didn’t come as a great surprise when he looked down at his phone about halfway through the night to see he had twelve missed calls.

  For most people it might have been a cause for concern. After all, twelve missed calls in the span of, oh, an hour and a half could only mean someone was in panic mode. A normal person’s reaction might be fear.

  There were very few people in the world who had Jack’s phone number, and even fewer he cared enough about to worry about twelve missed calls. And by fewer, he meant two: Lola and Nate. Since Nate had just been laughingly arguing with Dorie about which was the oldest college in the country, and Lola was now declaring neither one of them was right and awarding the point to Aaron’s team, he knew they were fine. So the only emotion Jack felt right now was dread.

  As much as he wanted to spend every single possible minute he could in Lola’s presence, he didn’t want to taint the air around her. He grabbed his jacket, took his phone outside, and returned the call.

  “What the hell, Jack? You get a second chance after this whole nightmare of a season and you don’t even so much as give me a call?”

  Warm and fuzzy, as expected. “Hi, Dad.”

  “Hi?” The word apoplectic came to mind. “That’s all you have to sa
y to me?”

  Yeah, this wasn’t going to go well. “Happy birthday?” It was later this week, after all.

  Leaning back against the wall, Jack looked up at the stars for the next few minutes, zoning out as his dad went on, never quite coming out and criticizing Jack, but being sure to detail every accomplishment of his favored junior staff and the children of his friends. Oddly, it was only now, after seeing the way Lola and Jules were with their children, that it occurred to Jack why he found it so easy to tune out the haters. He’d been doing it his whole life.

  “Sorry?” he said, when the monologue came to an end. “I didn’t catch that last part.”

  There were a few beats of silence. Then, in an overly patient voice, his father said, “I said you haven’t returned your mother’s calls about coming East.”

  Jack stood up straighter. No, he hadn’t, but it usually didn’t matter. Apparently Alexis had been right that the word was out on the street, however. If his father was going so far as to call him, it meant the buzz was good. Jack ran his hand through his hair. “I’m training with Nate right now. Maybe we should hold off until the season starts.”

  Better yet, after it was over.

  “That’s ridiculous,” his father snapped. “You’re my son. If you can’t be here for my birthday you can at least make it for Christmas and the first.”

  “The first” being the Oxford family’s annual open house, something they’d begun to do once he’d left home.

  Well, not home. Lola had a home; what Jack had left back in Connecticut was a house. A house not entirely unlike his own condo, come to think of it. A showpiece. Sterile. Entirely without life. Jack’s condo had been his sanctuary this whole last year; he just hadn’t realized how much it was lacking until Lola and Silas were there, filling it up.

  Having already crashed one holiday, he wasn’t about to impose on Lola or Nate over Christmas. But no way in hell would he spend it in Connecticut. “No can do,” Jack said. Because that’s how they talked to each other—his father expressed his thinly veiled displeasure and Jack responded with banality and clichés.