Funny when he says that, the one thing that pops into my mind is Aspen’s face. Not my teammates. Not my statistics. Not all the money I’ll make and the fame I’ll achieve. It’s her. She’s the reason I’m even sitting in this chair right now. She’s the reason my picture is hanging on Rick’s wall.
And all I want to do is go find her. I want to tell her about this moment. I want to recap every play of the game, because I know she’ll sit and listen with a smile on her face. She always does.
I look back at the wall. I’m finally worthy of being up there. Or at least Rick thinks I am. What he doesn’t know is that it’s all fake.
And right now, right this second, I realize I don’t want it to be. I don’t want a fake girlfriend. I don’t want a fake fiancée. I don’t want a contract that dictates she has to be with me because I’m paying her.
I want it to be real. All of it. I want her.
And for the first time, I know I want more.
“Is that all?” I ask Rick. “There’s someone I need to see.”
“I assume you mean that girl of yours,” he says. “Seems like a good one. You should hold on to her.”
“That’s exactly what I plan on doing.”
“Go on. Get out of here,” he grumbles in his usual fashion.
I’m almost the last one to leave the clubhouse. By the time I get out front, the fans have mostly dissipated. I sign a few autographs for the stragglers who remain as I scan the small crowd for Aspen. I don’t see her. She must have gotten tired of waiting.
I grab a cab, excited to get home and tell her everything. She’s the only one I’ve ever wanted to tell everything to.
The ride is quick and the townhouse is dark when I arrive home. And eerily quiet.
“Aspen?” I call out, walking through the living room.
Then I see something. Or rather, I don’t see something. One of the butterflies from the living room wall is missing. I look around the room. The table where she puts her purse is empty. The extra pair of shoes she keeps by the front door is gone. I walk over to the piano to see it conspicuously absent of sheet music.
I dart up the stairs to her room. The sheets have been stripped off the bed. I open the drawers to find them barren. The closet’s only contents are a few boxes that are packed and labeled and pushed to the side.
“Shit!” I shout to the ceiling.
I sit on the edge of the bed and that’s when I see it – an envelope bearing my name perched on her pillow. I immediately have flashbacks to last night when Bass showed me the envelope he received from the girl who left him.
She left me.
I open the envelope and read the words I know will slay me.
Sawyer,
I’ve known for a while that leaving is the right thing to do. I just didn’t have the guts to do it. But a lot of things have happened lately to push me in the right direction. So I’m going back home where I belong. Where my family is. Denver needs me. He needs me now more than ever.
You don’t have to pay me the final payment. I didn’t fulfill my part of the deal. And I hope you’ll allow me to get out of the contract peacefully since there’s so little time left in it anyway.
You did what you set out to accomplish. People look at you differently now. They see what I see. They see the guy I met that very first night. They see the man you’ve become these past months. I hope you got everything you wanted. I hope you have a long career with the Hawks.
I wish only the best for you. You’re a good man, Sawyer. You have one of the biggest hearts of anyone I know – you proved that to me the day I met Danny. I hope you open that heart to someone someday. Because you deserve a life full of love.
Not a day will go by that I won’t think of you.
Love,
Aspen
p.s. – I hope you don’t mind, I took a butterfly.
I drop the letter on the bed. Then I scoot across the mattress and lie down on the pillow, hoping it still smells like her. It does. I close my eyes and think back to the one time we made love on this bed. That night was one of the best of my life. In fact, these past five months have been the best I’ve ever known.
She thinks I didn’t open my heart to her. But I did. She fucking owns my heart. She owns me.
I bolt out of bed and run from her bedroom to my office across the hall. Then I tear it apart – I look through every drawer, every file folder, every notebook – until I find what I’m looking for.
Chapter Thirty-eight
Aspen
“I’m a fraud, Pen,” my brother says into the phone, looking at me through the thick glass separating us.
“You are not a fraud,” I tell him.
He shakes his head. “You’re the only person on the planet who thinks so.”
“What happened, Denver? Nobody would tell me anything.”
“I was stupid. Again. And they’re right. Everyone’s right.”
“Who’s right?”
“The guys at the bar.”
I furrow my brow. “I’m going to need more than that,” I say. “I have a meeting with a lawyer as soon as I leave here.”
“I went to Joe’s Bar after work. You remember the place over on Twenty-third?”
I nod. “It was Dad’s favorite place.”
“Yeah. It’s why I go there sometimes.”
I wish I could reach out and touch him. It makes me incredibly sad knowing my brother lives in a city where he has no one. He’s an outcast here. And the only friends he has are an old bartender named Joe and the ghost of our father.
“Anyway, the TV was on and there was a story on ESPN about you and Sawyer, something about your engagement. Some of the guys started ragging on me, asking why I couldn’t be more like my sister. Saying I was the bad twin. Telling me what a fraud I am. And Joe heard it all. He put a couple of shots on the bar. ‘Your dad’s favorite,’ he said, feeling sorry for me as I sat alone.
“I drank one of the shots and then left shortly after. But on the way home, I got a flat tire. I swerved out of my lane a bit when the tire popped, and then I pulled off the road.” He shakes his head in frustration. “That’s when I saw the red and blue lights behind me. And as luck would have it, Hank Marron’s kid, Kenny, walks up to my window. You remember who Hank is?”
I nod. How could I forget? Hank was one of the veteran cops who ruined my brother’s life. He was one of the assholes who took my money, his money, and the money of a dozen other people. The money Denver has to pay back in restitution.
“When Kenny saw it was me, he couldn’t wipe the smirk off his face. I told him I had a flat tire. I even got out of the car to point it out to him, but he threw me against it and frisked me. Then he made me take a breathalyzer test. I failed.”
“You were drunk?” I ask.
“Just,” he says. “I tested right at the legal limit, so he cuffed me, put me in the back of his vehicle, and impounded my car.”
“But the only reason you swerved was because of the flat tire.”
“I told him that, but it doesn’t matter,” he says. “I failed the breathalyzer.”
“Did he even have a right to test you?”
“If any other cop had been behind me, I’m sure I wouldn’t have been tested. In fact, anyone else would have helped me fix the flat. I wasn’t slurring my words. I was fine. The legal limit is so low now you’ll practically fail the test if you’re on cough medicine. But none of that mattered. Because Kenny’s a cop and I’m a convicted criminal. They’re going to put me in prison, Aspen.” He closes his eyes. “Maybe that’s where I belong. Maybe they’re right. I am a fraud.”
I shake my head. “If anyone is a fraud, it’s me.”
“What do you mean?”
“I’m not Sawyer’s fiancée. I’m not even his girlfriend.” I look around to make sure nobody can hear me. “He hired me to play the part, Den. He needed to legitimize his personal life to save his job. And I needed the money.”
I watch my brother process the news.
His jaw opens and closes. Then he sighs into the phone as his eyes become angry and then glassy. “You did it for me,” he says. “I should have known something was up. The baseball star. The money. The way you’ve been acting these past months. It’s all so unlike you.”
“I’m sorry I lied. But I’d do anything for you,” I say. “You’d have done the same for me and you know it.”
“You slept with the guy for money?” he shouts quietly into the phone.
“No. Of course not. It’s … it’s more complicated than that. We became close over the past few months. Closer than he would like. But it’s over now. I’m done. I can’t do it anymore. When you called me on Saturday, I knew it was time to leave. I’m back for good now. I’m moving home.”
“Let me get this straight,” he says, anger consuming his handsome features. “He hired my sister to be his girlfriend, fucking her while he paid off her delinquent brother’s debts, and you went and fell for the asshole?”
I blow out a deep breath, knowing everything he’s said is true. “He fell in love with me, too,” I say, a tear finally spilling from the corner of my eye.
He studies me through the glass wall. He’s good at reading me. He always has been. I can tell he’s conflicted. He wants to play the protective brother, but he also wants me to be happy. He gauges the sincerity of my words. He sees the truth in my eyes.
“Then what the hell are you doing here? Why did you leave him?”
“You’re my brother, Den. My family. Something he can never be. He’s incapable of having a real relationship.”
“You mean unwilling,” he says, angrily.
“Either way, it’s over, and I’m back where I belong.”
I spend the next few minutes telling Denver everything I’ve wanted to tell him for the past five months. Then a guard tells us our time is up.
“I’m going to get you out of here,” I say before I hang up. “We’ll get through this.”
He puts the phone in the cradle on the wall and then holds his hand up to the glass window. I place my hand opposite his and mouth the words, ‘Twin promise.’
~ ~ ~
On the drive back to Denver’s place, it dawns on me that it’s been four days since I’ve heard from Sawyer. Four days since I’ve heard from anyone. It’s like when I left New York, I fell off the face of the earth. I was sure Murphy or Rylee would try to contact me. But I guess when they said I was their friend, they meant only if Sawyer and I stayed together.
I’m still giving Bass some space. And apparently, he’s letting me since I’ve not heard a word from him either.
And with Denver still in jail, waiting on his court date, I realize I’ve never felt more alone.
I need to look up some of my old friends from high school. See if they are still around. I just haven’t had the chance. I spent my entire first day back contacting lawyers, and then I had to get Denver’s car from the impound and start searching for a place to live. Not to mention visiting the university to see if they’d let me start my master’s program in January.
I’ve been busy. But not so busy that I don’t miss him.
Because I do. I miss him. I miss him every second of every day.
I think about him every waking minute and dream about him when I sleep.
I wonder what he’s doing. Is he thinking about me? Regretting pushing me away? Moving on and sleeping with some groupie?
The thought of him moving on makes my stomach turn. And I realize I may have to avoid all television and social media so I don’t hear about anything that will break my heart more than it’s already been broken.
I pull up to Denver’s apartment building, sure that I’m seeing things. Because even though my eyes think I see Sawyer sitting on the bench out front, my mind knows better. It knows that Sawyer wouldn’t come after me. And that even if by some miracle he wanted to, he couldn’t. Because today is Wednesday. He’s supposed to be in Minnesota. I know his schedule as well as he does. Maybe even better. Because that is what obsessed, love-sick women do.
I park the car and blink my eyes over and over, but he doesn’t disappear like I expect him to. And when I look more closely, I see two large suitcases on the sidewalk next to him.
I get out of Denver’s car and walk over to him. He smiles as he stands up.
“Don’t you have a game to play?” I ask.
“Yes. But I have to get my new uniforms first. That can take a few days.”
“New uniforms?”
He pulls a baseball hat out of his back pocket and puts it on his head. Not a New York Nighthawks hat. A Kansas City one.
I cock my head to the side and study him. “I don’t understand.”
“I play for Kansas City now,” he says, handing me a folder.
“You what?” I take a few steps back as if someone had pushed me. “Why? I thought your job was safe now.” I cover my mouth and gasp as I open the folder and glance over the contract that has Sawyer being traded. I sit on the bench, guilt washing over me. “I did this, didn’t I? When I left, something happened. Did they find out you hired me? Oh, my God, this is all my fault.”
“It’s not your fault,” he says, sitting down next to me. “Actually, that’s not true – this is your fault. It’s your fault for making me see clearly. It’s your fault for making me want to be a better person. And it’s your fault for making me fall in love with you.”
I look up at him, not quite believing what he’s saying. “But you love New York. You love the Nighthawks. Everyone said you had a good shot at going to the World Series this year.”
“We do. Uh, they do. But some things are more important.”
“Some things?” I ask, hoping beyond hope that I’m one of those things.
“I want to be here because this is where you are. You don’t like New York. You only tolerated it because of Juilliard. This is where you need to be. And I need to be with you.”
“But—”
“I know about Denver,” he says.
“You do?”
He nods. “Your letter. I figured something must have happened. I had a private investigator do some digging and he found out about the arrest.” He fishes a card out of his pocket and hands it to me. “My attorney, Sarah, said this guy is the best lawyer in Missouri. He’s expecting your call. We’ll do whatever it takes to help your brother. And as soon as Denver is able, he can start his new job with the team in Kansas City.”
My eyes go wide. “You got him a job?”
“It’s nothing fancy. Grounds crew. But the pay is decent and the benefits are good.”
“How did you manage that? You haven’t even started playing for them yet.”
He shrugs. “I made it part of the deal for getting me.”
“You did that for him? For me? What changed, Sawyer? What changed since last week when you were so adamant about not being in a relationship? How do I know you can do this? How do you know you can do it?”
“This weekend was the best and worst weekend of my life. I played three incredible games. Games I wanted to share with you. Nothing is real anymore unless I tell you about it. Rick finally hung my picture on his wall. Can you believe it? He pulled me into his office on Sunday and showed it to me. He said he was proud of me. I’ve worked for the guy for four years and that’s the first time he’d ever said those words. And all I wanted to do was go home and tell you about it. And when I got home and found that you had left, all I wanted to do was follow you. Because I realized that having my picture on his wall means nothing to me if I can’t be with you. So the day after he hung it there, I brought him the contract he made me hold onto for the season – the one threatening to trade me. I brought it to him signed.”
My throat is tight with unshed tears. Everything he just said is everything I’ve wanted to hear for so long. “What did he do?” I ask.
“He had a fit, of course. He said he wouldn’t trade me. So I confessed to everything. Deceiving them. Hiring you. Can you believe that even then, he still wanted to
keep me? But I’d already talked to my agent who negotiated a pretty sweet deal with Kansas City. And ultimately, the decision wasn’t up to Rick, it was up to Jason, the team owner. He and I had a heart-to-heart on Monday. He recently lost his wife, so I think he gets how I couldn’t risk losing you. The Hawks won’t have me anymore, but they’re getting two great players in return.”
“Can you take it back?” I ask. “If you told them you changed your mind?”
“Why would I want to do that?”
“Because I can’t have you giving up what you love to chase me, Sawyer. What happens in a month or a year when you realize this isn’t what you want. You’ll always hold it against me.”
“I’m not giving up what I love. I still get to play ball,” he says. “On Saturday, when Brooke’s dad stood in front of the church and said there wasn’t going to be a wedding, I realized how devastated I would be if you left me. And then the very next day, you did leave.
“When I came home to an empty house on Sunday, I didn’t even have to think twice about it. I tore my townhouse apart to find the contract. There wasn’t even a small piece of me that hesitated to walk into Rick’s office and ask to complete the deal.”
I look at him skeptically, wanting so badly to believe everything he’s saying.
“More? You need more? Okay. Do you know where Kansas City holds spring training? In Arizona. I’ll be less than thirty minutes away from Danny for almost two months every spring. If that isn’t a sign, I don’t know what is. Everything makes so much sense now, don’t you see?”
I look over at his suitcases, still trying to absorb what this all means. “So, you’re moving here? And you want to date me? Like for real, date me?”
He laughs. “I don’t just want to date you,” he says, pulling another folder from his suitcase. “I have a new contract for you to sign.”
The Perfect Game: A Complete Sports Romance Series (3-Book Box Set) Page 87
