by Tara Wyatt
And it was fun, but he wanted so much more. He wanted the day to day. He wanted the time and the space to know them. To see them grow so slowly he didn’t notice. But since his marriage had imploded five years ago, he’d been fighting for every single second spent with them.
He was so tired of fighting.
He sighed and swallowed around the baseball-sized lump lodged in his throat. “We’re home, girls,” he said, hearing the error in his sentence. There was no we. This was their home. Not his.
They were both out of the car before he even had his seatbelt off, Chloe still glued to her phone and Olive rubbing her eyes as she followed her sister inside. He retrieved their bags and pillows from the trunk and followed them up to the front door, where his ex-wife Cara was pulling the girls in for a hug.
He set the bags and pillows on the bench and then stood on the porch with his hands in his pockets, feeling completely out of place, and he knew that he couldn’t go on like this. He couldn’t keep living feeling like his heart was half out of his chest all the time.
“How were they?” Cara asked as Chloe and Olive disappeared into the house. He handed her their stuff, listening to their footsteps echo through the house as they moved away from him.
“They were great,” he said. “They’re always great.”
She set their things down in the front hall and gave him a little half-smile. “Yeah, they are.”
He could tell she wanted him to go, but they needed to talk. He didn’t want to keep going like this, and the lawyers seemed happy to argue about custody back and forth for ever and ever as long as someone kept paying their hourly fee.
“Can I talk to you?” he asked, moving a little closer.
She glanced back into the house, then nodded, even though her face was a mask of uncertainty. “Sure.”
He took a deep breath and then dove in. “I’m really tired of fighting with you about this lopsided custody arrangement. It’s not right, and I think you know that.” She shook her head and opened her mouth, but he held up a hand. “We need to find a workable solution, because I want to play a bigger role in their lives.” He moved a bit closer again, meeting her eyes, silently begging her to see him, to hear what he was saying. “I don’t just want to be their dad a few weeks a year. I don’t want to feel like I’m constantly missing out on everything. I want to be in their lives. I want to know them. I don’t just want the big, fun stuff I get now. I want it all.” She didn’t say anything and he ground his teeth together. When he continued speaking, his voice was a low, harsh whisper. “They’re my kids, Cara. My girls. I’m so sorry that things ended between us, but I’m still their dad. Don’t deny me this.”
She blinked rapidly and then shook her head, biting her lip. “It’s not that simple, Javi. I wish it was, but it’s just not.”
He frowned, his eyebrows knitting together. “What does that mean?”
She made a soft scoffing sound. “You’re sorry things ended between us? I think what you mean is that you’re sorry you chose baseball over your family.” She stepped closer, pressing a finger into his chest. “You’re sorry you weren’t there when I was lying on the floor bleeding, miscarrying our baby.”
He reared back, her words landing like a slap across his face, the sharp sting coming from the fact that they weren’t completely untrue. “Cara, I—” He shoved a hand through his hair, self-loathing crawling over his skin like fire ants. “Fuck. I know I let you down. I know. I know, and I wish I could change it, but I can’t, okay? I’m sorry. I’ve been sorry for five years. But don’t punish the girls because you hate me.”
She stared at him, her eyes bright. “That’s just it, Javi. I’m not punishing them. I’m protecting them.”
Anger flared inside him, burning away the guilt and disgust he felt. “What the hell does that mean?”
“It means I’m trying to spare them the disappointment that you put me through when you were never there. Things haven’t changed—you live in Texas, you’re on the road constantly. I’m protecting them from the loneliness and hurt that comes from loving someone who isn’t ever around. Who isn’t there when it matters.”
Javi’s nostrils flared, his pulse racing, his blood thundering in his temples. “That’s bullshit, Cara. That’s completely unfair, and you know it.” His body tensed as he beat back the anger surging within him. Anger at Cara, because she was twisting things, casting him as the villain. But…there was also anger at himself, because while he hadn’t been the villain, he hadn’t exactly been the hero either. “You make it sound like I didn’t give a shit about you and the girls, and you know that’s not true. I know the baseball lifestyle was hard for you. I know it was lonely, and not what you expected.” Taking a deep breath, he reached out and laid a hand on her arm. “I know you’ll never forgive me for being away on the road when you lost the baby.”
The pregnancy had been a surprise, but it had given Javi hope that maybe they could get their faltering marriage back on track. Instead, Cara had miscarried at fourteen weeks, and it had ended up breaking them for good.
“It’s not about forgiveness, Javi. It’s about knowing who you are, and how you live and prioritize your life.” She held her hand above her head. “Baseball is here. But everything else?” She lowered it swiftly. “Down here. Always has been. Always will be. So yes, I’m protecting the girls from disappointment and heartache.”
Protecting them from you. Her unspoken words hung in the air between them, and he didn’t know what to say. He’d let her down. Was it inevitable that he’d let the girls down too, given the chance? A tiny, insidious voice wormed its way inside his brain.
Maybe she’s right.
Regret knotted in his stomach, and he glanced down at his watch. “I have to go. But we’re not done talking about this. Not by a long shot.”
“You can talk as much as you want. It doesn’t change the fact that I’m going to protect my girls from the same hurt, no matter what.”
Javi scrubbed a hand over his face. “They’re our girls.”
She pressed her lips into a thin line and then leaned into the open door. “Girls, come say goodbye to Daddy. He’s leaving now.”
After multiple rounds of hugs and kisses and tickles and dodging questions about when they’d see him again—as frustrated as he was, he refused to speak badly of their mother in front of them—he headed back to his rented SUV, put the address for the hotel in Thousand Oaks into his phone’s GPS and hit the road.
Normally, he liked driving. He liked having the time and the space to think. To untangle problems, to plan, to mull things over. But today, he wasn’t looking forward to the three-hour drive ahead of him, and not just because he was headed to a wedding he’d been dreading all winter. He hadn’t even made it halfway to Carlsbad before he wanted to climb out of his own brain and be anywhere else.
But he couldn’t seem to stop replaying everything in his mind. Cara begging him to retire and him refusing. The arguments, the resentment that had built and built. The pregnancy, and then the loss, each as swift and sudden as the other. The blame she’d thrown at his feet. He hadn’t chosen baseball over them—baseball had already been his entire life when he and Cara had met. She hadn’t liked the lifestyle, and she’d blamed him for her unhappiness. But…had he tried hard enough to fix it? He didn’t know.
And there was that voice again, nothing more than a sibilant whisper wondering if he’d done enough, and if he hadn’t, maybe he did let down the people he cared about the most. Maybe what he was best at was hurting people and Cara wasn’t wrong to have doubts.
Self-loathing churned his gut, making him feel sick. He took a swig of his water and then turned up the radio to you’re-gonna-need-a-hearing-aid levels, trying to drown out the thoughts swirling through his brain.
A few hours later, Javi arrived at the Westwood Inn, a little boutique hotel just outside of Thousand Oaks, California, where he’d watch the hitting coach for the Dallas Longhorns, Abby Gossman, marry the team’s now-ret
ired catcher, Jake Landon.
Javi wasn’t particularly fond of weddings, especially when they involved the woman he’d had a thing for for the past two years. He already felt raw from saying goodbye to the girls, uncertain when he’d be allowed to see them again, and from the emotionally fraught conversation with Cara that he’d played over and over in his mind on the drive up. He wasn’t sure how he was going to make it through this weekend. He felt like he had a sunburn and was stepping back out into the blistering heat.
At least the entire team was here in support of Abby and Jake, so he’d have people to drink with. At least the hotel was beautiful. At least there was an In-N-Out Burger less than two miles away.
But it didn’t matter how many silver linings Javi tried to find, he couldn’t seem to muster up any enthusiasm for the weekend ahead.
Javi spent a restless night tossing and turning, vivid dreams snatching away any restfulness the sleep he did get might’ve given him. Dreams about the ongoing custody battle, about being alone, about the team losing in the playoffs last year. Even in his dreams, he couldn’t stop replaying his failures. He’d finally flung back the covers at six in the morning, made some coffee and watched the news. Now, it was nearly seven and he’d decided to go for a run. Maybe some exercise would make him feel less unmoored. It was worth a shot, anyway.
So, he pulled on his running gear, cued up his favorite workout playlist, and popped in his earbuds. He even let himself bop along to the music as he waited for the elevator, the upbeat tempo lifting his mood a little. When the elevator doors slid open, he moved to step inside, but then hesitated for a second when he saw who else was in there.
Aerin Stone was one of Javi’s least favorite people on the planet. She also happened to be one of the most successful sports agents in Dallas, which meant that she had her talons in what felt like half of his team.
He didn’t know what he’d done to piss in Aerin’s proverbial cornflakes, but whatever it was, it had gotten her back up like a hissing cat. The very first time he’d ever met her, she’d insulted him for no reason, had trespassed in his clubhouse, and stuck her nose where it didn’t belong. Then she’d had the gall to tell him how to run his team.
And then—and this was the worst part, the absolute worst part—he’d watched her pert little ass as she’d sashayed out of his office. Watched it and liked it. Maybe even fantasized about spanking it, just to show her who was in charge.
Okay, so maybe Aerin Stone was sexy as fuck. It didn’t matter, because she was also an ice queen who’d probably take his balls off if she knew the kind of thoughts he’d had about her.
Aerin cocked an eyebrow at him as he stepped into the elevator, but said nothing, returning her attention to her phone. Javi turned his music up louder, just in case she wanted to yell at him for something. Not today, Satan. Not today. Lord knew he had enough shit to deal with this morning without getting into it with her.
But God was either cruel or had a twisted sense of humor, because not five seconds later, the elevator jolted to a stop, the lights above flickering. He frowned and paused his music, taking his earbuds out.
“Come on,” he muttered, jabbing at the buttons, hoping that somehow that would get them moving again. But nothing happened, and he had to accept that they were stuck and he was trapped with Maleficient herself.
Javi couldn’t think of many things worse than getting stuck in an elevator with Aerin. A root canal, maybe. Taking a line drive right to the nuts, possibly. He jabbed at the buttons again, hoping against hope that if he just pressed them enough times, something would happen and he’d be free.
“Oh yeah, like that’ll work.” She shook her head, rolling her eyes at him.
“I don’t see you doing anything.” Aerin always expected everyone around her to ask how high when she said jump. It was infuriating.
She blew out a long breath as her fingers raced across the screen of her phone. “I’m already working on it. Solving your problems for you, just like I do with half your team.” Then she glanced up at him, her steely gray eyes flashing. He felt a kick in the gut that made him hate himself, just a little bit. Hell, just a little bit more was probably more accurate.
Yeah, scratch that earlier thought. He’d rather take a ball to the nuts than have to spend another second trapped with this woman.
He leaned against the faux wood paneled wall of the elevator car and crossed one ankle over the other. “I already hit the emergency call button, so I don’t know what you think you’ll be able to do from your phone. Hey, maybe you should try insulting it, since that seems to be your usual M.O. when it comes to getting things done.”
She mumbled something under her breath and returned her attention to her phone. Javi smirked. His smirk faded when she slipped off her beige patent leather pumps—God, what kind of psychopath wore heels at seven in the morning on a Saturday?—and slid down to the floor, stretching her long, bare legs out in front of her. Her deep purple pencil skirt rode up, exposing the creamy skin of her outer thigh.
Javi glanced down at his own outfit, comprised of a gray T-shirt, black athletic shorts and sneakers, glad for the lightweight fabric because it was suddenly several degrees hotter in the little car. The fan must’ve stopped working, too. Yeah, that had to be it.
He forced his eyes away from Aerin’s legs and onto his phone just as a speaker embedded in the control panel crackled to life.
“Hello? Did someone hit the emergency call button?” came a man’s tinny voice, interspersed with pops of static.
“Yes, we did. We’re stuck in here, between the sixth and fifth floors,” Javi answered.
“Is everyone okay in there?”
At that, Javi glanced over at Aerin, who was still typing away furiously on her phone, pretending he didn’t exist.
Javi let out a small sigh and pushed a hand through his hair. “Yeah, we’re fine. How long before we’re out of here?”
“Beats me. I don’t have a crystal ball.”
“Do you know why we’re stuck?” Javi tried, wanting some piece of information to cling to.
“How the hell would I know? You’ll just have to hang tight.” His tone was snarky and annoyed.
Hanging tight with Aerin Stone while trapped in an elevator was not how Javi had wanted to start his day. He’d set out to dispel tension, not ramp it up another notch.
Aerin stood and marched over to the speaker. “Hang tight? No. I need a better answer than that, and you’re going to give me one. If not, I promise you won’t like what happens.”
“Lady, are you threatening me?”
Javi pressed his hand to his forehead. Jesus, they were going to die in here, weren’t they? She’d antagonize anyone able to help them and they’d be left to rot.
Aerin smiled, a cool, shark-like smile that was somehow almost unbearably sexy. “Not at all. Just giving you the lay of the land, as it were. I have a text message from your boss here. Paul? He’s so disappointed to hear that two VIP wedding guests are stuck in the elevator and that his employee has been very unhelpful. So, how long until we’re out?”
There was a short pause and then a sharp exhale. “Ten minutes. Okay? Jesus Ch—” He disconnected.
She shot Javi a little smile. “You’re welcome. Again.”
He let out a little grunt, hating how much he liked the way her eyes seemed to linger on his chest. “Didn’t say thank you.”
“I noticed.” She returned to her corner of the elevator car, seemingly eager to put as much space between them as possible. Then, she bent forward to rummage for something in her enormous black leather tote bag. Her silky black blouse hung down and away from her chest, giving Javi a very clear view of her lacy gray bralette and the small, perfect breasts it held.
Fuck. Me.
His blood heated, traveling through his veins to his heavy cock. Jamming his earbuds back in, he cranked the volume, focusing on the music and not his sex-starved reaction to Aerin. Because that’s all it had to be—he hadn’t had sex
in…shit, like a year—and so his response to her was the same as a starving man looking at a stale, cold piece of pizza. When you went long enough without, anything would look good. Right? Because there was no way in hell he was actually attracted to the ice queen in the corner.
No. Way. In. Hell.
She snapped her fingers in front of his face, and he yanked his earbuds out, irritation flaring through him. “What?”
“I said, your music’s too loud. Turn it down.”
Javi pursed his lips, his chest feeling tight with exasperation. “You really get off on telling people what to do, don’t you?”
A glimmer of heat flickered in her eyes, the corner of her mouth quirking up. She thrust her chin out and crossed her arms over her chest, sending his sex-deprived brain reeling back to the glimpse of her bra. “It’s a burden always being the smartest person in the room.”
He narrowed his eyes at her. “Jesus, do you have any friends at all?”
The smug expression on her face flickered and then fell completely as the blow landed, and even though he tried to justify it by telling himself she’d had it coming, he still felt like an asshole. She returned her attention to her phone, her shoulders curved away from him. Closing his eyes, he let out a breath, pinching the bridge of his nose.
“I’m sorry, Aerin. That was a shitty thing to say.”
She shook her head, her chin length blond hair swishing against her face. “Whatever.”
He sank down onto the floor, his legs bent in front of him, his wrists on his knees. “Can I ask you something?”
She shot him an icy glare, so frosty that he wondered if he’d imagined the earlier heat. “Can I stop you?”
“You seem to be able to do just about anything you want, actually. You’re like a human bulldozer.”
