Broken Love

by Jillian Dodd

  The crowd is roaring and rocking the bleachers.

  They can feel it, history about to be made for our school.

  I cheer as loudly as I can.

  Pike looks at the catcher, shakes his head. He doesn't like the signal. The replacement gives him another signal. Pike shakes his head again. Finally, he calls for an inside strike.

  Pike doesn't hesitate. Just throws a rocket directly above the player's knees. The batter swings wildly and misses!

  Strike three!

  Holy shit! We win!

  The team rushes the mound, everyone jumping on top of Pike and ending up in a pile on the dirt.

  I can't run out and celebrate with the team, so I just stand here, clapping.

  It is the greatest moment in my life up until this point.

  Even greater than when both Pike and I were picked in the first round of the major league draft a few weeks earlier.

  I didn't know it at the time, but that injury would end my baseball career.

  My phone beeps with a text, giving me the name of the hospital, and brings me back to the present.

  Carter: Pike will be pissed if he finds out you are at the hospital.

  Me: I don't give a fuck anymore. It's partially his fault we broke up.

  Carter: What do you mean? I thought you and Palmer broke up over a business deal.

  Me: Over a nudity clause. When Pike asked me to take her on as a client, he made me promise that I wouldn't let her do that. And before their dad died, he said pretty much the same. That's why I was so adamant about it.

  Carter: So you weren't just being a jealous prick?

  Me: No.

  Carter: So you fucked up your relationship with her in order to not fuck up your relationship with her brother, but in the end fucked them both up?

  Me: Pretty much.

  Carter: Sucks. You need to fix it.

  Me: Can't. Pike hates me. He doesn't forgive. Or forget.

  Carter: Fuck him, bro. I mean you need to fix it with Palmer. After all, you caught the garter. You're destined to be the next at the altar.

  Me: Screw you.

  When I get to the hospital, Carter comes down to get me. Apparently, Pike's location in the hospital is being kept a secret. No surprise, really. I'm sure the media is hounding the hospital for information in every way they can think of.

  "Cade," Palmer says as my brother sits next to her and wraps his arm around her. I want to kill him, but she leans into it, apparently needing the comfort. "You didn't need to come."

  "I have a meeting I can't get out of," Carter says, giving her another squeeze before getting up. "Cade is going to stay with you."

  Maybe I won't have to kill him.

  A few minutes after he leaves, a man dressed in scrubs comes out. "Palmer Montlake?"

  "Yes."

  "I'm Doctor Swann, the team's surgeon. Pike is stable, has been given antibiotics, and is now being prepped for surgery. He's got an open compound fracture of the tibia that we'll reposition to its normal alignment using screws and a metal plate. The fibula is fractured, as well, and we expect to find a lot of ligament damage that we'll address. He'll spend a night in the hospital then should be good to go home."

  "Is he going to be able to play again?"

  "It's really hard for me to say at this point, but the damage is pretty severe."

  "Take good care of him," Palmer begs.

  The doctor smiles at her. "You can be sure we will."

  As soon as he leaves the room, she throws her hands over her face and cries, "It's all my fault, Cade. I jinxed him."

  "What do you mean?"

  "Last year I wished him good luck before the playoff games, and he lost. So this year, he made me wait until the World Series. And he didn't want me to wish him luck. So, I told him to break a leg. And he did!"

  I wrap my arm around her and pat her back. "It's not your fault, Palmer. Really, it's not. It was a freak accident. He'll be fine."

  A big-chested knockout in high heels teeters into the room. "Palmer! How is he? All the reporters are saying it's going to be the end of his career!"

  "Hey, Bethany. I'm not sure. He's going into surgery. I'm surprised they let you up here. It's supposed to be family only."

  "I'm practically family," she says, showing off a diamond almost as big as a baseball on her right hand. "See what Pike gave me for luck? As soon as he wins the World Series, I'm pretty sure he's going to propose!"

  "That's great," Palmer says flatly, clearly annoyed by her presence.

  "Bethany, I'm Cade." I hold out my hand. "Why don't we go get some coffees?"

  After we walk down the hall for a bit, she pulls a flask out of her purse. "Coffee is a great idea. I need something to put this in. I'm so stressed! What if he can never play again?"

  "I'm just hoping he can walk again. That's what you should be worried about."

  "What? Like he could be paralyzed?"

  Pike never did date the smart ones. "Um, no. That only happens when you injure your spine. The ankle joint allows us to walk properly. It's probably going to take a while before his will work again."

  "Do you think they'll still let me go on the field if the team wins the World Series? Will I get to go to all the parties? Be interviewed?"

  "I don't know. Did he give you the special passes?"

  "No! Shit! All this work to get here, and he has to get himself hurt. I have the worst luck."

  I want to go off on this woman, but I don't. I don't want to upset Palmer any more. I point Bethany in the direction of the coffee shop in hopes that she won't be able to find her way back.

  "Where is Bethany?" Palmer asks when I return to the waiting room and take a seat next to her.

  "I take it you don't like her?"

  "She only dates baseball players, and she's traded up to him. Pike's always been dumb when it comes to women."

  "I know," I say, recalling several times in college when he got into trouble because of a girl, and even when he went on to the pros, I often had to bail him out of some kind of mess. He told me it was a good thing I was going to law school. He had a reputation for going through women faster than he went through bats. "I sent her on a coffee mission in hopes that she wouldn't find her way back." I chuckle.

  Palmer's face breaks out in a smile and, for the first time since I got here, she laughs. "That is why I love you."

  I suck in a big breath of air. I've longed to hear those words.

  Just not in this way.

  "Oh," she says, awkwardly. "You know what I mean. You always took care of me. I appreciated it then, and I appreciate it now. Pike would appreciate it, too."

  "No, he wouldn't. He'd be mad."

  "Don't be so sure. I remember him sitting by your side at a hospital in Omaha after you got hurt when he could have been out partying with the team."

  "That was a long time ago."

  "Still. A friendship like that should have been lifelong. And would have been, if it weren't for me. I'm sorry I screwed everything up for all of us, and I'm really sorry it's taken me so long to apologize. Do you think we could ever be friends again?"

  I take her hand and pat it gently. "I think we already are, Palmer."

  "They actually had a Starbucks on site!" Bethany's voice booms through our quiet moment. "Thank God! I needed a green tea Frappuccino to soothe my nerves." She takes a drink from a cardboard tray and hands it to Palmer. "I wasn't sure what you liked, so I went with a skinny caramel macchiato."

  "That's my favorite, Bethany," Palmer lies. Her favorite has always been a non-fat peppermint mocha with whip.

  "And for you," Bethany says to me. "I ordered the barista's favorite. Some sort of a peppermint concoction. He said it reminds him of when he drank peppermint schnapps and hot chocolate growing up in, like, Minnesota? Whatever that is." She hands it to me. "So, is there any news? Do we know how long we're going to have to be here? And what should I tell the press if they want to speak to me?"

  I set my drink on the table
next to Palmer's. A few seconds later, while Bethany is busy asking a million questions, I pick up the caramel macchiato, switching drinks with her. Palmer smiles at me and mouths thank you.

  "You know what, Bethany?" I say. "I think I would let the team's PR handle any questions. You shouldn't have to deal with that."

  She sits up straighter. "You're right. I shouldn't have to deal with such pettiness. I'm just so stressed by all of this. It ruins everything."

  "I hate to see you stressed," Palmer says, "but imagine how my brother feels. He was playing in the biggest game of his life."

  "That's exactly my point! I had to buy a whole new wardrobe to wear to all the events, for traveling, and for the games. Now, I don't know if I'll get to wear them all!"

  Palmer rolls her eyes.

  "You know what, Bethany? Why don't I get my driver to take you back to your hotel, so you can get some rest. I'm going to send Palmer home soon, too. There really isn't anything either of you can do while he's in surgery. Go get some sleep and come back here in the morning when he's awake."

  "That's a great idea," she says, checking her phone. "The team is back at the hotel now. I could join them for a quick nightcap and then get some sleep."

  "Exactly," I agree. I call my driver and escort her out of the hospital.

  When I get back to the waiting room, Palmer is pacing and watching the clock.

  "Shouldn't we have heard something by now?"

  "It's only been about an hour, Palmer."

  "Really? It seems like it's been forever." She yawns.

  "Come sit down." I get her situated on a couch next to me, wrap my arm around her, and let her rest her head on my shoulder.

  "I'm going to fall asleep if I lean on you like this."

  "That's okay. I'll wake you when the doctor comes out."

  Hours later, we're both woken by a nurse.

  "He's doing fine and is in recovery. The doctor will be out to see you shortly."

  Another hour later, we're taken into a small room to meet with the surgeon.

  "How is he?" Palmer asks, tightly squeezing my hand.

  "He tolerated surgery well." He puts an X-ray up onto a lighted board. "You can see here that the fibula protruded through the skin." He points to another area. "The tibia is fractured, here. The ankle dislocated. The talus, which is this here at the top of the foot, is cracked." He puts another X-ray up next to it. "This is after surgery. We inserted nineteen pins and screws and repaired the soft tissue."

  "How long will he be in the hospital?" I ask.

  "I expect we'll discharge him later today or tomorrow. He'll be in a wheelchair, as we won't want any weight on it for quite a while. I know he sold his home in L.A. when he moved to Tampa. Does he have somewhere he can recuperate locally, or would you like me to recommend a rehabilitation facility?"

  "He can stay at my house. It's one level and has wide doorways."

  "Perfect." He gives us a room number. "You're welcome to go there now and wait for him. He should be coming out of recovery shortly."

  I escort Palmer to the assigned room.

  "The surgeon didn't tell us much about his recovery time," she says.

  "He'll talk to Pike about that." I take her hand in mine. "Look, I don't think I should be here when Pike gets to the room. I wouldn't want to upset him. I'll stay in the waiting room."

  "Oh, Cade. You've done enough. You can go now. Really, I'm fine."

  "Are you sure?"

  "Yeah, he's out of surgery and doing well. I just want to be here when he wakes up."

  "You call me if you need anything, okay? Even if it's just for a non-fat peppermint mocha with whip."

  She puts her palm across her chest. "You remember that?"

  "I remember everything, Palmer. Goodnight."

  October 29th Palmer

  Pike is wheeled into his hospital room and situated on the bed.

  "Hey," I say, running my hand across his forehead. "How are you feeling?"

  "Tired," he says, floating off to sleep.

  I sink into the recliner next to the bed and close my eyes.

  I'm awakened by my phone ringing.

  I quickly hit mute, not wanting to wake Pike, and go out into the hall to answer it.

  "Palmer! Oh my gosh! Your mother just called me freaking out. How is Pike? How are you? Where are you? What do you need?"

  "Slow down, Tory," I say. "Pike is fine."

  "Why didn't you call me last night when it happened? You shouldn't have been alone."

  "I wasn't alone. Carter Crawford was in the same skybox as I was. He drove me to the hospital. Cade met us here and stayed with me all through the surgery."

  "Oh, he did, did he?"

  "Don't even start. He was just being nice."

  "So what can I do?"

  "Pike will need to recuperate at my house. So get the guest room ready and order in a bunch of food. Guy food. He usually eats pretty healthy, but with him sitting around, he'll want snacks--the not so healthy kind. And clear my schedule for a few days. I want to be there with him. I'll call my mother right now."

  "I'm on it," she says and hangs up.

  I walk back into the room to find Pike sitting up, awake.

  "How are you doing? I was just about to call Mom. I totally forgot to call her last night."

  "She probably fell asleep watching the game. She would have called you otherwise. And I'm starving."

  "Hit the button beside your bed and page the nurse. I'll call Mom."

  I dial her number.

  "Hey, Mom."

  "Palmer Alexis Montlake, I can't believe you didn't call me last night! I shouldn't have to find out about my son's injury from ESPN."

  "Things were a little hectic last night, and I didn't want to wake you. I'm giving you to Pike, now," I say, handing him the phone.

  "Hey, Mom. I know. I know. Yeah, I'm going to be fine. Just a broken ankle. No, you don't need to come." He hands me the phone back. "She wants to talk to you."

  I take the phone and give my mom every single detail she demands before she'll let me go.

  "Where's Bethany?" Pike asks me after I hang up.

  "She went back to the hotel while you were in surgery last night--said she needed a drink. I texted her when you were out of surgery and let her know your room number. I'm sure she'll be here this morning."

  "I can't even believe this happened. I come back better than ever from shoulder surgery, make it through the playoffs, and am in the first game of the World Series."

  "I'm sorry, Pike. It sucks."

  "Yeah, it does."

  "I was worried about you," I admit. "It was a bad break."

  "I saw it. Passed out. Don't remember a whole lot until I was in the ambulance."

  "It's probably better that way."

  He grins at me. "Is there a video of it?"

  Pike

  I send my sister home to get some sleep, telling her I don't want her to come back until later tonight. She looks exhausted.

  I'm tired too, but don't get much rest.

  Most of my teammates and coaches stop by to see me, as does the opposing team's player who feels horrible that he stepped on my ankle.

  Bethany doesn't show up until late in the afternoon, bringing me just the pants portion of the sweat-suit I asked for. She's dressed to kill, but I can tell she's hung over, based on the recovery drink she's carefully sipping on. She asks a million questions about when I'll be able to play again and about her attending the rest of the games and events.

  Not once does she really ask about me.

  She stays for a very short time then tells me she needs to get to the game to represent me, gives me a kiss, and leaves.

  A delivery service drops off the personal effects from my locker, and for the first time since last night, I'm able to check my phone. There are so many social media notifications from fans everywhere that I have to turn them all off. There are hundreds of texts from my teammates, my former teammates, news reporters, and friends. I quic
kly scroll through them, not responding, until one catches my eye.

  Cameron: I know it's been a while since we've talked, but I wanted you to know I'm thinking of you. If you need anything. Anything at all. You call me. I mean it, Pike. Just because we aren't together, doesn't mean I don't still care for you.

  A reporter asked me early in my career if I had a celebrity crush. I answered truthfully that it was Cameron Barella. I had just seen the movie where she played an FBI agent who infiltrated a group of surfers who were robbing banks, and she was the first actress who'd popped into my head. Not surprising, though. She was in a bikini for most of the movie. She's an exotic beauty, with a curvy figure, long dark hair, lush lips, and gorgeous, almond-shaped eyes.

  A few months later, I was visiting a children's hospital with a few other celebrities, one of whom was Cameron. When I passed her in the hall, she said, I hear you're hot for me, bat boy.

  You got that right, I had replied, cocky as ever. Drinks after?

  She shrugged. Sure, why not?

  It was the start of something beautiful, and we quickly fell in love. But the realities of our careers and crazy schedules meant we were apart more than we were together. But when we were together, things were magical. Incredible sex. A lot of laughter. Cameron was the girl I wanted to settle down with, but she didn't want to settle down. She loved her career as much as I loved mine. Our time apart took its toll, and we broke up. We've tried numerous times over the last ten years to make it work. It just never does.

  Me: That means a lot, Cam. Thank you. Palmer said she had lunch with you in Milan. You still there?

  Cameron: No, I just finished a location shoot in Morocco. I'm in London for a few weeks then headed back home.

  Me: Drinks after?

  Cameron: Oh my gosh, Pike. You were such a cocky shit back then. Of course, I want drinks after, Pike. I always have.