“Because I don’t do that shit. I don’t do drugs. I’ve never taken a painkiller in my life and I’ve heard they’re addictive. What if I get addicted to them?”
Dean laughed. Full-out belly laughed, and I resisted punching him in the gut to shut him up.
“You’re not going to get addicted,” he said. “Just cut them in half. Whenever you start to feel the pain, take half of whatever they prescribed you. Soon, the pain will stop and you won’t need them. You’re not Superman, Jack.”
“Says you.”
“I say that because I know you, brother,” he insisted.
“And I say no because I’ve seen way too many guys get addicted to shit. I refuse to be one of them.”
He sighed, clearly more convinced of my own strength than I was. “Here.” He pulled an envelope from his back pocket and tossed it onto my lap.
“What the hell is this?”
“It’s a letter from Gran.”
“You read it?” I asked, my tone defensive.
He frowned at me and snapped, “Does it look like I read it?”
I turned the envelope around, and ripped open the seal.
Dear Jack,
Sometimes life doesn’t unfold the way we want it to. You, of all people, have learned that lesson all too well. First with your parents, then with Cassie and that other horrible girl, and now with baseball.
Gramps and I are so sorry that your hand is broken. And we know how much you must be hurting because of it. But, Jack, I’m hearing things about your behavior and attitude toward your wife that I cannot condone. I did not raise you to be mean, rude, or disrespectful to the one person who has loved you at your worst.
I know you feel as though your life IS baseball, but the reality is your life is so much more than just your chosen profession. True, baseball is a part of your life, but it is only a part. No matter how wholeheartedly you think differently, you are not baseball, and baseball is not you. It will not last forever. Nothing does, dear. Nothing except love, of course.
Eventually your hand will heal, but if you ruin things with your wife, I fear your heart never will. Remember how it felt to lose her. And don’t let it happen again.
Remember who you are. You’re Jack Carter, the boy with the unbreakable spirit and resolve. The boy who doesn’t take no for an answer when it’s something he wants. You’ve been like that since you were five years old. And I know you haven’t changed. So stop throwing this little pity party of yours and get your priorities straight.
You know how I feel about flying, so DO NOT MAKE ME GET ON A PLANE AND FLY OUT THERE! I will if you leave me no choice, but I won’t be happy about it. The next time I talk to that wife of yours, she’d better not be crying.
I love you,
Gran (Gramps too)
“Fuck,” I breathed out, running my free hand through my hair. “Cassie cried to Gran?”
“What?” Dean asked, clearly as clueless as I was. I handed him the letter so he could read it himself and sucked in a long, slow breath. They were right. Everyone was. I was being a fucking asshole to the one person who deserved it the least.
Cassie.
Shit.
My beautiful Kitten. My heart. My soul. The only thing in this world I loved more than baseball. Had I somehow forgotten that? I certainly acted like it. I owed her a million apologies, and a thousand explanations. And I hoped that they would be enough.
All I’d done since I met this girl was bring her grief. It wasn’t enough to have some good times when you overshadowed them with bad ones. I needed to stop being such a dick and get my head on straight.
“Remind me to never upset her, okay? I don’t think I could handle a Gran letter like this.” Dean’s eyes were wide as he handed the letter back to me.
I grabbed it and folded it carefully, then tucked it into my jeans pocket.
“We have to get out of here. I need to go home.” I rose from the rock and climbed back down it, trying not to fall on my ass and break my other hand.
I thought Dean might be disappointed, but he sat there looking at me with a shit-eating grin plastered all over his face. “Thank God!” he called out toward the sky.
“Now we’re religious?”
“If that’s what it takes, then hell yeah, I’m religious.” He hopped down and patted my back. “Let’s get you home to your wife.”
I hailed a cab the second my foot hit the crowded sidewalk outside the park. We scooted into the backseat and I gave the cabbie our address.
“So, do you want to talk about it?” Dean looked at me and the sympathy in his eyes made me cringe.
“I do,” I said with a nod. “But not with you.”
“Uh, thanks.”
I laughed. “I didn’t mean it like that. I just need to talk to my wife first.”
Dean nodded his head in agreement. “Definitely. But then I want to hear about it, okay?”
“Okay. Thanks for coming out here.” I punched his thigh playfully, wanting him to know that having him here made me happy.
“I’m your brother. I’d do anything for you,” he said, and I knew he meant it.
“Same here.” Of course I didn’t need to say it, but I wanted to.
I’d missed Dean more than I realized. It was easy to forget how much you miss people when you didn’t see them every day. I must be more of the out of sight, out of mind type. Unless we were talking about Kitten; then all bets were off. Because when it came to her, I was more the distance makes the heart grow fonder type. Or you could just call me pussy for short.
I burst through our front door with Dean on my heels, praying Cassie would be home. When I found her in the kitchen table with Melissa, her green eyes instantly found mine before they looked away, the pain I’d caused her abundantly clear.
Fuck.
She hated me. I’d hate me too. How many times had I said that before?
Ignoring Melissa, I rushed to Cassie, grabbed her hand in my good one, and pulled her into our bedroom, slamming the door behind us. Without a word, I pulled her over to the bed and sat down, pulling her to a seat on the mattress next to me.
“Jack, what are you—”
“Shhh. Please. Just wait here for a minute,” I begged. Leaning over and placing my head against my cast, I closed my eyes and silently berated myself. Cassie didn’t move and I didn’t either, afraid that if I disturbed the emotional dust settling around us, I’d mess it all up again.
I sat there a good ten minutes without moving a muscle. When I finally sat up and opened my eyes, tears began to spill down my cheeks.
“Oh God, Kitten. I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. Please, please don’t leave me.”
“Leave you?” Her eyebrows flew up and her eyes grew wide, as if she had no idea what I was talking about.
“I fucked up. I’m just so scared for what all this means, you know?” I held my cast-covered arm in the air and she nodded. “I’m not ready to lose baseball. I’m not ready for my career to be over. And I’ve taken it all out on you.”
She started to cry. No words came, just tears, so I went on. “I know you probably hate me. Or you’re mad at me. And I deserve it. But please know how sorry I am. I’ll never treat you like this again, I promise.”
“Don’t make promises you can’t keep,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper.
I shifted over, closing the space between us, and pulled her body against mine. “I’ll never treat you like this again,” I said against her hair as she trembled in my arms. “I am so sorry for the way I’ve been acting. I’m scared. Terrified I’ll never be able to throw again. I’m not ready. I’m not ready to lose baseball. But I’ll never be ready to lose you.”
Cassie pulled back slightly so she could look up at me. “Jack,” she said softly as I wiped the tears from her face. “Why are you so convinced your career’s over?”
I paused, my mind instantly thinking about my parents both choosing to abandon me and Dean at different times. The helpless feeling started to sweep over me again, filling me with dread. It amazed me how after all these years, one simple past action could send me into a tailspin. “I don’t know. Because I love baseball so much and I want it so badly, I’m afraid it will be taken from me. Like I don’t deserve to have the things that I love.”
“You have me,” she said softly as she pinned me with her gaze.
“But I lost you. I had to get you back. Nothing comes easy. I fuck things up. I’m sure it’s only a matter of time before I fuck up baseball too.”
Her face scrunched up and she shouted, “Stop it!” which surprised me. “Just stop it. I hate this side of you. It’s like you’re quitting and that’s not the Jack I know. Stop being so complacent. Be a fucking man. Be the man I know and love.”
I nodded, her words striking me square in the chest. I wanted to yell at her for being so harsh, but she was right and I needed to hear it. “You’re right. I’m filled with self-pity and it’s a joke. That’s why I don’t give a fuck if baseball tries to quit on me, I’m not going to let it.”
The corners of her mouth started to tilt upward with my confession. “That’s what I like to hear.”
“Baby, I am really sorry. I can never take back the way I acted, but I can promise you I’ll never do it again.” I fell to my knees. “I know all I do is apologize to you for fucking up, but please, Kitten. I need you by my side. I’ll always need you by my side. Say you forgive me. Please.”
I waited. Waited for her to say she forgave me. Waited for her to say she loved me and she’d never leave me. I’d wait forever to hear those words if she wanted me to. She lowered herself to the floor next to me and took my face in the palm of her hands. God, her hands were soft.
Her green eyes stared through me, intense and ferocious as she spoke. “I’m your wife. I vowed in front of our friends and family that I would love you until I died. And I plan on doing just that, but please,” she paused, “stop making it so hard for me.” Her lips found mine and my chest instantly eased with relief.
“I love you. I fucking love you.” My tongue explored the inside of her mouth and I wanted to bury myself in her. “I need you. Now.”
“Jack, we have guests.”
“They aren’t guests. They can wait. I need to be inside you. You’re my home. I need to be home right now.”
Cassie hesitated and pulled away slightly. “Don’t do it like last time.” She looked down as I struggled to remember what she was talking about.
Then I remembered. I was rough with her the night I got hurt, and that was the last time we’d been together. “Oh shit, Cassie. Did I hurt you?” Her head shook slowly back and forth, her eyes still focused on the floor. “I did, didn’t I? I fucking hurt you, didn’t I?”
“You didn’t hurt me,” she said slowly.
“Then what? What did I do? I know I was rough and I’m sorry. I’ll never forgive myself if you’re not okay.” I couldn’t believe this. It was one fuck-up after another with me. How could I be so stupid all the time?