Slowly, she put down the pizza and approached the door. What she should do was twist the deadbolt and close the curtains, but what she did was turn the handle.
Ty waited on the other side, a baseball cap pulled low over his eyes like the world’s least creative disguise. Like she wouldn’t recognize him anywhere. It hurt to look, but it was hard to look away.
“I’m sorry,” he said, when she didn’t slam the door. “For before. For apologizing for the wrong thing. I’m sorry.”
She swallowed and glanced away, determined not to cry.
“I’ve never, uh, never—” He cleared his throat. “I’ve never had to worry about how someone other than management felt about the things I said. Or did. And the only reason I said there was no one special in my life is because if I said anything else, he’d have asked about it. And I can’t tell anyone about you. Not that I have anyone to tell, because you’re basically my only friend.”
The words rang painfully true. On the surface, she had nothing in common with Tyler Ashe except a love of baseball. But beneath the surface, where it counted, they shared too many similarities to ignore.
Ty plowed ahead, taking her silence as hesitation and not the inability to speak due to the tears clogging her throat. “And I don’t know how it didn’t occur to me not to say that other stuff at the time,” he said, “or how you’d feel about it, because the whole time I was away, I just wanted you to be there, too.” He scuffed his foot on the step. “I’m sorry for what I said. And what I didn’t say. I’m just not used to this.”
Gwen’s heart was pounding so loud she could hardly hear. “To what?”
His gaze flickered away and then back, like he was having a hard time keeping the connection. “To having someone in my life that’s not Connor. To thinking about them all the time. To caring about what they feel.”
Her knees were weak.
Ty glanced around. “Can I come in? The neighbors are watching.”
Gwen peered outside. The street was empty. “No, they’re not.”
“Well, let me in anyway.”
It was the exact opposite of what she’d vowed just a few hours ago, but she stepped back and let him in, the door closing softly behind him. It was different when it was Tyler Ashe in the flesh, and not Tyler Ashe in a Thrashers uniform, on a billboard, on the radio. When it was a real person and not the airbrushed idea of a man.
Ty took off his hat and passed it between his hands, brow knitted, shoulders tense. He exhaled. “I’m going to see Connor,” he said finally.
Gwen started. “What? When?”
“Tomorrow. There’s visitation. I called when I was in L.A. I haven’t seen him since he was sentenced. I call, I write, I drive up—I send fucking care packages, Gwen. And he doesn’t answer. And he was my best friend.”
She didn’t know what to say. She, like everyone, assumed the two were in touch, and Ty wasn’t discussing Connor out of respect. Not because he’d been shut out.
She knew the feeling too well.
“I didn’t know.”
He swiped a hand across his jaw. “No one does. But that’s not the point. The point is, I don’t want to lose you too. Not if I can help it.”
Gwen wiped at her eyes. “Dammit, Ty. I’m supposed to be really mad.”
“I know. You can be. Just do it in Wayland.”
“Where?”
“It’s a place five hours from here. Where the prison is. I’m driving up in the morning and staying at a little bed & breakfast, where they don’t know who I am. Come with me. The visit won’t take long, since Connor probably won’t even agree to see me. Then we can hang out. I missed you.”
“You have a funny way of showing it.”
“I know. I’m sorry. It won’t happen again.”
She felt herself nodding, even though this was all probably a very bad idea.
“Is that a yes?”
“Well, I’ll have to cancel all my big plans.”
He peered past her into the living room, the open pizza box, the television paused on the Baking Bonanza opening credits.
“You were going to watch without me?”
“And cheer for Todd.”
“Reed was right. You are mean.”
She sniffed. “Okay, well, come on, then.”
“Yes, ma’am.” He crouched to untie his shoelaces, and Gwen headed for the couch.
“Hey,” Ty said behind her.
“What is it?”
“That was our first fight.”
“I guess so.”
“Don’t you think we should make up?”
“We just did.”
“But like, make up more?”
Gwen turned as she finally caught his meaning. “Ty, it’s a been a very stressful week—”
He had his fingers hooked in the hem of his shirt, tugged up several inches to reveal that famous six-pack.
“Okay, fine,” she said.
CHAPTER 16
WELCOME TO WAYLAND! read the city limits sign, accompanied by a picture of a dogwood tree and the words, Population 1366. The first time he’d come to town, Ty thought the number had to be a typo. The prison had a higher population. But he’d spent enough lonely hours here to know it was true.
Gwen’s head swiveled as the tiny main strip came into view, single-story buildings with old-fashioned signage and lampposts. “Downtown” extended no farther than three short blocks before giving way to forest and farmland. She’d been good driving company, much better than his own thoughts, swirling uselessly around his brain, finding and preying on every doubt he had. That Connor wouldn’t see him. That his season wouldn’t improve. That this was the point in his life where everything started to get just a little bit worse, and the best years were behind him. Instead Gwen had filled the air with occasional mindless chatter, humming along to songs on the radio, keeping busy on her phone when they fell into a comfortable silence. She was the healthy, happy middle ground he’d been struggling to find for far too long; the polar opposite of the “nothing special” he’d mentioned to Landon in a misguided effort to keep people off their backs.
“How did you find this place?” she asked as they turned down a narrow side road.
“Google,” Ty answered. “I needed a place to stay the first time I drove up to visit Connor. Found this one.”
He stopped in front of a large yellow house with white gingerbread trim nestled into a quiet cul-de-sac of similar homes, none of which looked less than a hundred years old. The only thing to distinguish it from the others was a sign dangling from a wooden frame, gold script identifying it as The Wayland Inn.
“This really doesn’t seem like your style,” she remarked as they climbed out and he grabbed their bags from the back. It occurred to him that in all his years of traveling, he’d never once gone on a vacation with a woman. Met women while on vacation, sure, but never saw her bag alongside his, her toothbrush next to the sink, knew they’d have breakfast, lunch and dinner together, and not panic about leading her on.
None of this was his style. At least, it never had been.
“The owners are approximately the same age as the house,” Ty said instead, strolling up the cobblestone walkway to the front door. “They don’t recognize me, and that’s all I’m looking for.”
Gwen scoffed and he glanced back.
“What?”
“Maybe they don’t know your name, but even with your clever disguise of a day-old beard and sunglasses, it’s obvious you’re somebody.”
Ty rang the bell. “I didn’t have time to shave this morning, because somebody’s dirty mind woke me up half a dozen times last night.” Not that he was complaining. He’d never had make up sex because he’d never fought with someone he cared about making up with. He’d been missing out.
“Excuse me.” Gwen took a bag from him and slung it over her shoulder. “You’re the one who did a lot of those dirty...things.”
He grinned as he flashed back to those things. “I’ll remind you what they
were later.”
The door swung open with a creak, and an elderly woman stood inside. Ty straightened and put on his most polite smile.
“Good afternoon, ma’am,” he said. “My name is Tyler. We have a reservation.”
“Of course, of course,” she said, dusting her hands on a white apron. “Pardon the mess. Come on in.”
Ty held the door and Gwen stepped through, glancing around as she took in the dim interior, dust motes floating in afternoon sunlight that struggled to fight through the filmy curtains. Even in the low light, it was easy to see that every single surface of the home was covered in some sort of antique.
“I’m Mary,” said their host, extending a key hooked on a large peacock feather. “You’re our only guests tonight, so I’ve given you the room with the best view, on the top floor. Shall I show you up?”
“We’ll show ourselves,” Ty said, and she looked relieved to not have to climb the steep wooden staircase.
“Perfect. We serve breakfast from seven to nine, and offer complimentary beverages all day.” She gestured down the hall that led to the back of the house. “Just come to the kitchen and help yourself.”
“Will do. Thank you very much.”
She returned to the kitchen and Ty led the way up two flights of stairs to the converted attic room, an enormous space with dormer windows at the front and back, a king size bed with a massive wooden headboard, and matching nightstands and dresser. An updated bathroom was tucked into the corner, and while Gwen went to the window to take advantage of the “view,” Ty wiped his sweaty palms on his shorts.
The house was as quaint and quiet as the town, but as with each of his previous visits, Ty’s heart was pounding and his skin was clammy. He dropped his bag and went into the bathroom to splash cold water on his face, the anxiety he’d been suppressing all morning doing its best to bubble to the surface. He sat on the edge of the clawfoot tub and willed himself to calm down. In all likelihood, this prison visit would go like all the others: he’d show up, sign in, chat with the guards, then sit in the visitation room until enough time had passed that no one could pretend Connor was actually going to come out. Then Ty would a force a nonchalant smile and walk back to his car, battling the dual urges to break something and break down.
After a minute, he returned to the room. Gwen was still next to the window, reading something on her phone.
Ty cleared his throat, hoping his voice came out level. “My visit’s scheduled for two o’clock,” he said, “and it takes a bit of time to get out there and get in, so I’m going to head out now.”
She glanced up. “Do you want me to come with you? I can wait outside.”
He tucked his sweaty hands in his pockets. “No,” he said too quickly. “Apparently it’s a nice prison, as far as prisons go, but it’s still not a great place to be. I’ll see you when I get back and we can look around the town or whatever. They have a lake somewhere.”
If she was offended or hurt by his rejection, it didn’t show. “Sounds good,” she said, shooting him a small smile, like somehow she understood him. Understood this. Whatever the hell it was.
Ty hesitated, then walked over and pressed his lips to hers, the instinct overwhelming and alarming, but also strangely right. “Thanks for being here,” he said as he stepped back.
She wiped lip gloss off the edge of his mouth. “Any time.”
The words rang in his head as he descended the stairs and got back in the car. Any time. Not too long ago the thought of the same woman being there “any time” would have made his flight instinct kick in. Now it felt...nice. He’d brought her to a tiny town in the middle of nowhere, stashed her in an attic, and left her to wait while he went to visit a prison, and she hadn’t uttered a single complaint. She was either too good to be true or crazy. He didn’t have enough experience with the first to say for sure, and after more than a decade of fame, he was too jaded to rule out the second.
He knew it was stupid to hope, but Ty really wanted to see Connor today. He wanted to tell him about Gwen, since he couldn’t talk to anyone else about her. He wanted his friend. But even as he parked in the visitors lot, signed in and waited his turn, he knew he’d never get to talk to Connor. Not even when the smiling guard approached to lead him to the visitation room.
“Afternoon, Ty.” The guard’s key ring jangled on his hip as he swiped a card over a scanner and the heavy metal door eased back to let them into a long, antiseptic-smelling hallway.
“Afternoon.”
“Enjoying the break?”
“Yessir.” Ty hadn’t grown up saying things like ma’am and yessir, but a decade in the south had taught him how things were done.
“We’ll miss you in the All-Star Game. Won’t be the same without you.”
“Well, we’ve gotta let the kids play,” he said with a smile he didn’t mean.
“I suppose so. Still. It’s a shame. But we’ve got half the season to go, though, right? Who knows what the future holds.”
“Only good things, I’m sure.”
The irony was not lost as the guard buzzed open a door that led to the dismal visitation room, but Ty was the only one who appreciated it.
“Thanks,” he said as he stepped inside.
Wayland was a white collar prison, most of its residents in for embezzlement and bribery, cyber crime and forgery. And, in Connor’s case, insider trading. Even if he had no idea what he was doing at the time, he had indeed used insider information to trade stocks, and was now dubbed the Martha Stewart of baseball. His old nickname, Connor “The Hitman” Whitman, had been changed to “The Conman” Whitman. Which didn’t actually match his crime, not that anybody cared.
Most of the other visitors were wives and girlfriends, some touching up their makeup as they waited, some glancing at Ty with eyebrows raised. Phones weren’t allowed in the room, so he knew he was safe on that count. Still, he avoided eye contact and glanced up from his folded hands only when prisoners entered, pale gray jumpsuits indistinguishable from one another. Man after man arrived, and as the minutes passed and the guard in the corner looked at Ty with increasing pity, Ty knew this day wasn’t going to go any differently than the others.
It was the first All-Star break he hadn’t spent with Connor, cheering at the Home Run Derby, playing in the game, partying their asses off, enjoying life. And now here he was, in a cramped prison visitation room that reeked of perspiration and desperation. Ty wanted to get up and run out as fast as he could, but it had only been twenty minutes, and he’d told himself he’d wait his usual thirty.
Someone laughed and someone moaned, and the guard scolded them both, but Ty didn’t look up to see what the offense was. He just stared at his watch, the second hand ticking around the face, once, then twice, then ten times, and then it was time to give up. Again.
He schooled his features into something he hoped looked normal and not devastated, then stood, nodding to the guard that he was ready to go. The same guy who’d seen him in let him back out.
“Maybe next time,” he said, leading Ty down the hall.
“Yeah,” Ty echoed. “Maybe.”
He retraced his steps and was soon back in his car, too hot in the afternoon sun. He turned up the air conditioning and closed his eyes, leaning back against the head rest. He didn’t know why he kept trying. Why he wrote letters and sent care packages and drove all the way up there for nothing. But the more he thought about it, the more he realized he did know. It was because he needed to know. Maybe he was a sucker for punishment, but he needed to know that he’d tried. That Connor was the one responsible for not closing the distance between them. He’d lost his parents to circumstances beyond his control, but he didn’t have to lose this. Not this easily.
He was disappointed and frustrated and angry by Connor’s non-appearance, but the emotions weren’t as intense as they usually were. And as he drove into town and pulled back into the driveway of the yellow house, he didn’t pretend not to know what made this trip more bearable tha
n all the others.
Gwen was upstairs, lying on the rumpled bed, reading on her phone. She sat up when he entered.
“Hey,” she said. “How’d it go?”
Ty shook his head and forced a smile. “Same as always. He didn’t come out.”
“I’m sorry.”
“It is what it is.” He smothered a yawn with his hand, hoping she didn’t sense his sadness. “I need to sleep for five minutes, then we can walk around town or visit the lake, whatever you want.”
“Sure. Whenever you’re ready.”
She shifted over on the bed as he climbed in the opposite side, under the floral-print quilt. Whatever money the homeowners had saved on dusting and antique storage, they’d put into the air conditioning, and it was a welcome reprieve to the heat outside.
“Five minutes,” Ty mumbled, when his head hit the pillow. “That’s all I need.”
THE ROOM WAS EMPTY when Ty woke up. A quick glance at his watch told him five minutes had turned into two hours, and his rumbling stomach told him that was too long. He called Gwen’s name just in case, but she didn’t answer, so he got up and stretched, spotting her bag on the floor next to his, confirming she hadn’t come to her senses and run away.
He went into the bathroom to freshen up, then heard footsteps climbing the steep stairs to the attic. A second later the door creaked open and Gwen tiptoed in, a brown paper grocery bag tucked under her arm.
“Hey,” Ty said, and she jumped.
“Dammit,” she said, with an embarrassed laugh. “I thought you were still asleep.”
“You were supposed to wake me up after five minutes.”
“You needed your beauty sleep.”
“Ouch.”
“Relax. You got it. You’re gorgeous again.”
He knew she was joking, but he still felt his cheeks flush pink as he smiled. “Where were you?”
“I went for a walk and bought some food. I thought maybe we could eat at the lake, if you wanted.”
His stomach gave a happy lurch, but he’d be lying to himself if he said the food was the only thing improving his mood. Still, he didn’t think either of them were ready for any type of serious talk about feelings, so he said, “That’s perfect. Let’s go.”
Team Player Page 19
