Page 114 of Playboy Pitcher
“I don’t know, Willow. Why did you do any of this? Was it all orchestrated from the minute you walked into that bar? Was everything a lie?”
I shake my head vehemently. “No. I planned to uphold our deal and then leave Miami, but that was before…”
“Before what?” he yells
“Before I fell in love with baseball again…and withyou,you stubborn dickhead!” I yell back. When his eyes widen, I realize what I just said and slap a hand over my mouth.
“Don’t…” he warns in a dangerously low tone.
“It doesn’t matter what I say, does it?” I ask quietly. “You won’t believe me anyway.”
“Don’t put this on me, sweetheart. Sooner or later, everyone leaves, remember?” When I recoil, the muscles in his neck tighten as he grinds his teeth on my own words. Shaking his head, he frowns, giving me one last look before leaving me standing alone in front of the stadium’s iron gates. “Enjoy your millions.”
Watching him walk away is more than I can take. My knees buckle, and I hit the sidewalk.
After my mother died, I used to have dreams where I was falling. No beginning. No end. Just continual motion and a sick feeling in my stomach that eventually, I’d land. I never knew how I got there or why. I just looked down and suddenly the ground beneath my feet was gone.
Now, twenty-three years later, I know the answer.
I leaped.
But my mother was no longer there to catch me.
And now, neither is Ben.
Chapter Thirty-Four
Never askif things could get worse. The answer is always yes.
The incessant knocking at my door doesn’t stop. It just keeps getting louder and more agitated. Whoever said ignoring a problem doesn’t make it go away was right.
One night. Can’t I just have one night of peace?
Lumbering into the foyer with a half-empty beer bottle tucked between my fingers, I let out a groan as the headache that’s been brewing all day tilts the ground and slams me sideways into the wall.
Right onto my elbow.
Karma.The gift that keeps on giving.
Fighting for equilibrium, I wait for the familiar shock of pain that never comes. It’s a good thing I’m hanging out with my buddy Sam Adams and his five twins. Otherwise, that would’ve hurt like a son of a bitch.
The knocking gets louder, this time accompanied by a dullthunkthat sounds a lot like a foot driving into solid wood. “Jesus, Kyle,” I mutter, wrenching the door open. “Calm the fuck down.”
But it’s not Kyle. No, what’s standing in front of me is much worse—a blonde-haired, green-eyed walking attitude that’s half his size and twice as deadly.
“Took you long enough,” Emma snaps, pushing past me as she bulldozes a path from the door into my living room.
I sigh, lifting the bottle to my mouth. “I’m not in the mood for company tonight, kid.”
“Tough. I’m not in the mood to clean up other people’s messes, yet here we are.” Her long ponytail whips across her face as she pauses, cocking her chin over her shoulder. “You might as well have a seat. This is going to take a while.” Shaking her head, she stomps the rest of the way into the living room, where she comes to a sudden stop, her fists clenched. “Who the hell are you?”
The smiling brunette on my couch rises to her feet and extends her hand. “I’m Stacey.”
Emma doesn’t shake it. In fact, I’m fairly certain if she had an ax, Stacey would have one less limb.
“Why is she here, Ben?”
I’m too tired and drunk for this. “Don’t start with me, kid,” I warn, collapsing onto the opposite side of the couch. She doesn’t acknowledge me. To be honest, I’m not sure she realizes I’m still in the room.
