by MJ Summers
“I’m sorry, Alicia. I really care about you and I want the best for you. I hope you believe me,” he said quietly.
“Oh, sure I do, Ben. Seriously, don’t worry about me. Good luck with baseball. I hope all your dreams come true.” She pulled her hand away from him and gave him a little wave before shutting the truck door. Fuck! she thought to herself. I am the world’s biggest fucking idiot.
She ran up the steps to her house and opened the front door, quietly praying that her parents would be asleep. Making it to her room in peace, she collapsed onto her bed, burying her face in her pillow and crying the heart-wrenched sobs of a young girl in love. She knew they were too young, but she couldn’t help herself. Ben Mitchell was the only boy she had ever loved and she knew that no matter where he went in the world or for how long, she would never stop loving him.
Ben drove slowly home, not sure what had just happened. He hadn’t expected to feel so torn up inside as he watched the lights of the city fade into the distance in the rear-view mirror. The dark night of the country enveloped him along with his regret. He thought of Alicia, her smile, her eyes as she looked at him, the feeling of her body against his, her kiss. He had never wanted anyone so desperately before. But she wasn’t part of his plan. He was going to see the world and play ball and really live. He should be thrilled with the adventure he was about to embark on, but instead he felt horribly guilty. Ben had seen it in her eyes when she said she would wait for him. She loved him. Maybe she always had. She had sat before him and as much as handed him her heart, only to have him throw it back at her like he was trying to make a double play. Pulling into the ranch, he wished there had been something he could have done to make her feel better. But he knew there wasn’t. Only time would fix what he had just done. In time, she’d forget all about him and move on, and she’d be the better for it.
* * *
Three days later, Ben stepped out into the blinding afternoon sun shining on the ballpark in Salem, Oregon. He proudly wore the team’s practice uniform, trying to ignore the knots in his stomach as he strode out onto the field. A nervous excitement filled the air as the rest of the players trickled out of the change room, getting their first look at their fellow teammates. He had arrived on the bus an hour earlier and had been picked up and brought straight to the ballpark by the team manager. Now staring out at the field and smelling the freshly cut grass, he wore a wide grin under his ball cap, knowing that today was the first day of his independence, his dream, his future.
A young man with blond hair poking out from under his cap nodded a hello at Ben. He jogged over to him and held out his hand. “Ian Sullivan. I heard you catch.”
Ben shook his hand. “I do. Ben Mitchell. You a pitcher?”
“Yeah. Want to warm up together?”
“That’s what I’m here for,” Ben replied happily, turning to jog several yards away from Ian.
Twenty minutes later the team manager called them all to the dugout for a meeting.
“Alright, boys! Welcome to Salem! Now for most of you, this will be your first time away from home. I’m going to go over all the rules we’ve got, so you better be paying attention or you’re going to find yourself on the bus home. You’ve all been assigned host families already. I want you to treat the people you’ll be living with and their homes with the utmost respect. Especially their daughters. Keep your hands off. Don’t even look. Got it? If I hear otherwise, you’re going home. Immediately. No second chances, no ‘Well, it’s okay because she was hitting on me.’ Done. Baseball career over.”
The lecture went on for another thirty minutes. The players were given a long list of everything that would get them kicked off the team.
“. . . Drugs—home. No exceptions. Booze—home. No exceptions. Hitting on your host family’s mom, home. No exceptions. Hitting on their daughters, home. Hitting on their son’s girlfriend, home. Not making it to practice, home. Half-assing it at a practice and/or a game, home . . .”
Ian leaned over to Ben. “I’m confused. Are we allowed to sleep with the host family’s daughters if we’re drunk? Would those two things cancel each other out?”
Ben stifled a laugh but not well enough to avoid earning both himself and Ian a lap around the park when the speech was over. At the end of the practice, the host parents arrived to collect their billets. The team manager’s wife showed up to find the two young men who would be staying with them.
“Oh shit,” Ben murmured to Ian, “I think we’ve figured out why he wanted to be so clear on the no hitting on the moms and daughters.”
“Holy shit! I’d tap that,” Ian said. “If they had a girl that looked like her, I might explode right here.”
Just then, an elderly couple called Ian’s name, then Ben’s. Smiling broadly, they waved to the boys. Ian and Ben started toward them. Ian smiled back as he spoke to Ben under his breath. “I’d say we shouldn’t have any trouble following the rules.”
THREE
Three and a Half Years Later—2000
Jake rubbed his eyes as he walked up the steps of the police station. It was a bitterly cold night and was close to midnight. He had been woken up from a deep sleep to retrieve his sons and Ian. He signed the appropriate paperwork, paid their bail and then asked to go back to the holding cells before the boys were released.
Standing in front of them with his hands on his hips, he shook his head at the sight of them. Ben’s and Ian’s shirts were both ripped and splattered with blood. Ben held a wad of paper towel under his nose and Cole held one up to his lip as he teetered on the bench next to his brother, clearly very drunk. Ian wore some nasty bruises on his face and an expression of shame.
“Well, boys. I’m only going to do this once. If it were up to your mom, you would have been here for the night. I’m not sure she’s wrong about it either.”
All three sat with their heads hanging down.
“Got a little carried away tonight?”
They nodded in unison.
“Sorry, Dad, it’s totally my fault,” Ben said.
“Let me guess, some guy did something to Alicia Williams that you took exception to?”
Ben looked up and nodded with a look of total confusion. “How did you . . . ?”
“Ben, every time I’ve had to pick you up for fighting, it’s the same story. You figure out the ending yet?”
“What ending?” Ben asked.
Jake shook his head. “You know, I just cannot wait for the day when you use your head for more than a hat rack, kid.” He sighed heavily and motioned for them to get up. “Alright, let’s go.”
Ian spoke up quietly. “No sir, I can’t let you bail me out like this. I don’t have any money on me.”
“It’s already done. Just promise me you’ll stay out of trouble. You could have wrecked your arm tonight and I don’t think you’d feel too good if you threw your career away for something as stupid as a fight.”
“No, Mr. Mitchell, I don’t think I’d ever forgive myself if I did.”
“Alright, good. You got lucky this time, Ian. Don’t make the same mistake twice.” Jake turned to his older son. “Ben, you’re his catcher. You should be keeping him out of messes like that, not getting him into them. And what are you doing at a bar with your little brother, letting him get drunk? He’s only nineteen.”
“I know, Dad. I’m really sorry I let you down.”
“I’m sure the three of you will make it up to me. The animals will all need feeding in about five hours and I’m pretty sure I’ll be cozy in my warm bed while that’s getting done.”
* * *
Earlier that evening, the party was in full swing when Alicia and several of her friends piled into the nightclub. Alicia’s heart was in her throat as she scanned the room for Ben. They hadn’t tried to keep in touch after things ended, but she never stopped thinking about him. Even though it had been more than three years since the night they parted ways, she still looked for him everywhere she went, especially when she was home from college
. Alicia had secretly followed his career and knew he had been playing ball in Pearl, Mississippi, for the last couple of seasons. She knew that he came home each fall until spring and that eventually she would run into him. Even though she would never admit it to herself, when she had dressed that evening, it had been for him, as it always was when she came home from school. Knowing that she had only a few precious weeks when they would be in the same town, she needed to know she could turn his head if she ever was lucky enough to see him. She told herself it was just to make sure the sight of her hurt, but deep down she still held a tiny flicker of hope that they would end up together.
Each January, she had gone back to Denver for winter session defeated, without so much as seeing him or doing what she really craved in her bones—running her hands all over his perfect body again. But none of those disappointments prepared her for the blow she was about to take that night. She was breezing through the club in her sexiest dress and stilettos that lengthened her already impossibly long legs when she stopped in her tracks. It was Ben.
“I’ll catch up with you,” she called to her girlfriends as they crossed the room to claim a table.
Turning toward him, Alicia drank him in greedily. She could see that he had filled out, going from a lanky, lean teenager to a sculpted, chiselled specimen of manly perfection. His chest was a thick width of iron that his black T-shirt was having trouble containing. His bicep looked to her to be roughly the size of her upper thigh. Her heart pounded through her chest. Then it all but shattered as she stepped forward, seeing his other arm draped lazily over a cute blonde girl beside him. He towered over her short, curvy body as she stared up at him and giggled hysterically at something he had just said. Her hand was pressed to his abs as she lifted herself onto her tippy-toes to give him a kiss square on the lips.
Alicia’s first thought was to get as far away as possible from Ben and the pain that was coursing through her. As she turned to run, she spotted the bar and decided that dousing her heartache in liquor would be a far quicker and far more appealing option.
Walking over to the bar, Alicia put a ten on the counter. “Tequila, straight up. And keep ’em coming,” she said to the bartender. He twisted his handsome face in confusion before pouring two shots into a glass.
“You sure you don’t want some lime, at least?” the young man asked, taking her money.
“No thanks. This is just perfect.”
The warm liquid burned her throat as she downed it, trying not to choke. She put down another ten. A hand reached out and pushed the money back.
She turned to see a ridiculously hot guy standing next to her in a black cowboy hat and a grey T-shirt. “This one’s on me. What are we having?”
She looked up at him. “Tequila, straight.”
“Impressive. I would have figured you for coolers.”
“Not tonight. I’m taking the express train to Drunkville.”
“Well, I hope you’ll want some company for the ride. My name is Eric,” he said, taking in the view of her toned body with his dark-brown eyes. He held out his hand to her and when Alicia went to shake it, he lifted her hand to his lips instead, causing her to blush a little. She glanced across the bar and saw with a jolt that Ben was watching her, a pained expression on his face. He looked almost angry. Good, she thought, turning back to Eric with a sultry smile, let him see what he’s missing.
“And what’s your name, pretty lady?” he asked, looking amused.
“Alicia,” she replied, flicking her long hair back over her shoulder.
“Well, Alicia, this is a pretty amazing night for me. Do you want to know why?”
“I’m fascinated.”
“Because you’re here in that little dress and you’re drinking tequila instead of wine coolers, which means you’re about as gutsy as you are gorgeous. And you agreed to let me join you and that is just something that almost never happens in a guy’s life.”
Alicia laughed at his over-the-top compliment as she lifted her shot glass. The booze was starting to kick in now. Between that and the look on Eric’s face, she hoped it wouldn’t take long to forget that Ben ever existed.
“Let’s go dance, Slick!” she yelled into his ear as she pulled him toward the dance floor by his belt. Eric followed willingly.
From across the bar, Ben’s body stiffened. Alicia wore a tight red off-the-shoulder minidress, showcasing her endless legs and making the most of her pert breasts. She had lightened her chestnut brown hair with some blond highlights and wore red lipstick. She didn’t look like the pretty Alicia that Ben had grown up with. She looked hot. She reminded him of the magazine cover featuring Elle Macpherson that he had stared at for a long time earlier that day while in line at the gas station. Now Hot Alicia had that prick Eric draped all over her like a cheap suit on the dance floor and Ben didn’t like it.
He watched as Eric’s hands dropped indecently low to her ass almost as soon as he got them on her. Ben tried reminding himself that what Alicia did was none of his business. He tried reminding himself that he had cut her loose after a few short weeks together and that he was the one who didn’t want a relationship with her or anyone else for that matter, but somehow his temper was getting the better of him in spite of his attempts at logic. He glanced over at the couple far too many times for his own good as the song played on, ended, and as the next one rang out. When the DJ decided to speed things up again, Eric tugged her back in the direction of the bar for more drinks.
Ben knew who Eric was. They had run into each other a number of times as teenagers on the baseball diamond and at parties around town. Eric, a total cocky dick even though he didn’t have the game to back up his attitude. Eric, who only ever seemed to have one thing on his mind. Eric, who would be getting the fuck away from her or else.
“Excuse me, Candy,” Ben said to the girl he was standing with. “I need to go take care of something.”
“Chastity,” she barked at him. “The name is Chastity.”
“Oh, sorry. I’ll be right back.”
He crossed the bar, cracking his knuckles and setting his jaw. His brother, Cole, who was drinking with some of his buddies who had also managed to get their hands on fake IDs, caught sight of him just as he reached Eric and the argument started. By the time Cole got to his side, Eric was laid out flat on the floor and two of Eric’s buddies were just about to grab Ben from behind.
Alicia stood with her back against the bar, watching with amazement as the brawl picked up momentum. Before she knew it, two strong hands were yanking her up onto the countertop and behind the bar to get her out of the way. She teetered in her heels and stared at the bartender, not sure if she should be angry or grateful. Using her hazy logic, she decided to go with angry.
“What the hell? You don’t get to grab me like that, pal!” she spat out, poking him hard in the chest with one finger.
“Just trying to look out for you.” He gestured with his thumb for her to look at the spot where she had just been. She had been replaced by a chaotic mass of bodies in full attack, arms throwing punches and faces taking hits.
She looked sheepishly into his blue eyes. “Oh, thanks.”
Giving her a little nod, he replied, “You’re welcome. Now cover your ears,” as he took out an air horn and aimed it at the crowd. The horrible blast of sound had the desired effect, breaking up the brawl.
“Take it outside!” the bartender hollered after he let up on the air horn.
Several bouncers had already descended upon the group, a few trying to calm things while a couple were more than happy to get in a few shots of their own. Several of the men dusted themselves off and helped each other up, but Eric and Ben looked determined to finish what they had started. It was like they had spent years looking for a reason to do this and now their perfect excuse had walked in wearing a red dress. Ben shoved Eric toward the door. “Let’s go!” Ben shouted at him.
The bartender signalled the DJ to shut off the music while he picked up the phone to call th
e police. Alicia watched as several of the patrons, along with Cole, filed out the front door to the parking lot. Fuck Ben, she thought, and that little blonde thing he’s here with. She can fucking have him. Pouring herself and the bartender a shot from behind the bar, she smiled and then held out her hand as he hung up the phone. “Alicia.”
“Mark,” he said, holding his shot up to hers to clink the glasses together before taking a swig.
“Mark, it’s nice to meet you. Do you have to deal with this crap a lot?”
“Almost every weekend. Is one of those knuckleheads your boyfriend?”
She shook her head, taking in the sight of his handsome face and his kind, dark-blue eyes. “No. Definitely not.”
“So if I asked you out, would there be a chance you’d say yes?”
“There would be.”
“Okay, then I’ll ask.”
“Okay.” She stared up at him, waiting with a sassy smile.
“Well?”
“Well what?”
“Well, will you go out with me sometime?”
“Call me and we’ll talk. Then I’ll decide.” She grinned, grabbing a pen and pad of paper that lay by the phone. She wrote down her number and then looked back up at him.
“You’re not one of those high-maintenance girls, are you?” Mark asked, giving her a skeptical look.
“Not high maintenance. Selective. But you’ve got potential,” she shot back, running a finger down his chest. She was definitely drunk now. “Can you stay out of fights? I’m sick of guys who can’t seem to stay out of fights.” Alicia reached up and gave Mark a peck on the cheek. “Thanks again for rescuing me. And for the drinks. I better go find my ride.”
Mark grinned at her. “You’re welcome, Alicia. If your ride falls through, come find me. I’ll be here late but I promise to get you home safe.”
Alicia nodded and smiled to herself as she walked away. Mark was like a breath of fresh air. He was cute and kind and seemed level-headed, which frankly was a nice change from Ben. Mark saw her, he liked her and he let her know that he was interested. No waiting several long years for the slightest hint that he might be into her. She turned and smiled at him again as she exited the building, hoping he would call.
