Rookie Mistake: A Sports Romance Novel (The Beasts of Baseball Book 1) (25 page)

“I don’t know,” I said. “But, why wouldn’t he let her talk to me?”

When I got to the part about Ace, explaining why my lip was bleeding, and my jaw was red — something I kept pushing off answering when Marty first arrived — I noticed his eyes grow darker.

“You need to steer clear of Ace Newman,” he said. “If he wants to destroy you, he will.”

These were things I’d already figured out on my own. What I needed to know was why he would want to, and how he planned to do it. What did Whitney have to do with any of this? My mind was scrambling for answers.

“I mean, I could say Rhett played the hero role because he wants her for himself,” I explained. “But, what does Ace have to do with that?”

Marty shrugged. “Unless he’s just protecting Rhett’s interests.”

“Did Ace use Holly to get an in with Whitney for Rhett?” I asked out loud. “This is crazy!” I shook my head, then stood and paced around the room. I sounded crazy…
that
was the problem.

“I’m really sorry, man,” Marty said, patting me on the back. “Just watch yourself.”

He looked as exhausted as I must have when I sat and listened to him at the bar that night. I walked him out, thanked him for coming, and apologized for ranting about crap that made no sense.

I pulled a beer from the fridge. I twisted the cap from the top and held it to my lips. It was the first one I’d had in over a week. It tasted good as it rolled down my throat. I finished it in one guzzle, then grabbed another before going upstairs. I sat on Whitney’s bed, looked around at her belongings and felt my heart aching inside my chest.

Slowly, I went to my room. The mattress felt so big without her beside me and the room so cold without her snuggled under my arm. I clicked on the TV and scanned through the channels until I found one of my favorite sports shows.

I knew they would all be talking about how Malone went nuts and ran through the stands, and I wasn’t wrong. I watched video after video of myself acting like a crazy person trying to get to Whitney.

“And what was it all about?” one reporter asked and then pointed to the screen where the video Caroline took was playing. You could hear me screaming at her to get the fuck out, bleeped for language of course. Thankfully my junk was blurred out. I knew there were plenty unedited versions floating around the Internet too, so I didn’t dare look.

The hosts all laughed and added their two cents about the situation. “So, was that his estranged girlfriend in the stands?” one asked.

“Yes, there have been rumors that Rhett Hamilton was dating his ex,” another added. I couldn’t take it anymore. I clicked it off and rested my head on the pillow that was scented with Whitney’s perfume.

CHAPTER TWENTY

e

Calvin

I
woke up to a loud banging on my front door and the chime of the doorbell echoing off the walls of the large empty rooms. I jumped up and ran down the steps, skipping them three and four at a time. I unlocked it, jerking it open. My heart sank when I saw Holly standing on my doorstep.

Alone.

“I’ve come for Whitney’s things,” she said, her hands on her hips, a
don’t give me any shit
look in her eyes.

“How is she?” I asked, pulling a t-shirt over my head.

“How do you think she is?” Holly snapped, rolling her eyes. “Can I come in or what?”

I moved out of the doorway and let her enter. I looked over her shoulder to check if anyone was with her. “I’m alone, don’t worry,” she said, then her eyes softened as she studied the bruise on my face. “That looks pretty nasty.”

I gripped my jaw, I hadn’t seen it yet. I hoped Ace’s eye looked worse.

“I need to talk to her,” I said, bringing her back to the most important matter.

Her eyes hardened again. “Well, that’s not going to happen,” she snapped. “Where are her things?”

I pointed upstairs and then followed Holly as she made her way up. “Nice place by the way.”

She began gathering Whitney’s clothes, folding them into the suitcases. With each item she packed, my composure cracked more and more.

I couldn’t take her leaving again, I just couldn’t.

“Holly, you’ve known me a long time, so please listen to me,” I pleaded.

She looked up at me as she finished zipping the last suitcase. “I
have
known you a long time Calvin, but…” she waved a hand in my direction, “this person in front of me isn’t the same guy. So what does it matter?”

“I am the same guy,” I said, needing her to believe me. “I fucked up, let everything happening around me go to my head. We were fighting every day, and I was pissed, she was pissed. It all went to hell before I even knew it.”

She blinked several times, then rolled her eyes to the ceiling and blinked some more. Finally, she looked back at me. “What about the two girls in your bed? You were banging them while you were begging my best friend to give you a second chance.”

I gripped my hair with my hands, pulling at the roots. How could I make her understand?

“No, that’s not true,” I insisted. “Those girls were the reason I called Whitney. That’s why I fucked up so bad.”

She looked at me, confused.

Exhaling deeply, I began to pace the room. I stopped and turned to face Holly again. “I thought Ace was the shit, that he was the luckiest son of a bitch I’d ever met. Not a care in the world, woman crawling out of his ass…” I closed my eyes and cursed, “shit, sorry.”

Holly waved her hand, telling me to go on.

“Anyway, he was my hero so I thought he could do no wrong. And it was fun, you know, having women fawning all over me, having people think I was a big deal. I came from nothing. Nothing. And then suddenly…” I pushed a hand through my hair, “I was something.”

Holly was blinking hard again, so I turned away and started pacing again.

“But I swear to you… I never touched a woman while Whitney and I were together. I thought about it. I had woman jumping on my lap and trying to get in my pants, but I never touched them. Never. It wasn’t until weeks after Whitney left that I did anything.” I barked out a laugh. “Then I did everything. It was like I was trying to bang my brains out so I’d forget…”

Shit. I so shouldn’t have said that. I glanced at Holly, but she was looking at me with some understanding.

“But you couldn’t forget Whitney, could you?” she finished for me.

I shook my head violently. “No. And the more I partied and the more people, women, I met, the emptier my life became. Those girls were the last straw. Every guy’s fantasy brought to life, and it meant nothing. And I realized I was doing what—” I stopped myself.

“What Ace would do?” Holly finished for me again, her voice soft.

I shot her a
yeah, I’m sorry
look. “After Whit and I talked, I cleaned up everything, even my house. Hell, I got a new bed so she wouldn’t have to lay where those women had…”

I stopped. Thinking.

“What?” Holly asked in alarm.

“The bed!” I jerked Holly’s arm, pulling her to the master suite. “This bed. I bought it after I spoke to Whitney. They delivered it that same night.”

I was ecstatic that I had proof of that one thing.

Holly busted my bubble. “What does that prove?” Holly asked, unimpressed with my declaration.

“It proves that the picture was taken before I bought the new bed,” I explained like I was talking to a toddler.

She crossed her arms over her chest. “So, how would she know when you bought the bed?”

“The furniture store, Ralph, he would have the invoice,” I announced. “Ask her to look at the bed in the picture; it’s not the same bed.”

“You sound crazy, Calvin,” Holly said. “You really need to get some help.”

“Tell her!” I yelled, holding her arms tightly, forcing her to face me.

“Okay, okay,” she agreed, saying the words slowly. “But, I don’t see how that really proves anything; you could just have your buddy fudge the dates.”

For me, it was a start, and that was better than I had before. I helped her carry Whitney’s bags to Ace’s Porsche and then made her promise to talk to Whitney one last time before I let her leave.

After she shut the door, she rolled down the window and dropped a bomb at my feet. “So, Calvin, who took the picture of you and the sluts?”

Shit.

She smirked at me, the look more of disgust. “That’s what I thought.”

Before I could say a word, the Porsche roared to life, and she was gone.

***

I dreaded showing up to the stadium that next day. I’d barely gotten any sleep, and my jaw was swollen and still red from Ace’s fist. With Whitney’s stuff gone and no way to get in touch with her, I had no idea if she was even still in New York. For all I knew, she had gotten on an airplane and headed back home, or even worse, moved to Rhett’s house and let his charm ease her pain. Or Todd Morris. Hell, I was sure millions of guys would be willing to comfort my girl.

Coach stopped me at the locker room entrance and examined my jaw. “How’d this happen?” he asked just as Ace walked in. He stopped him too, leaving us standing side by side. I peeked over at Ace, his eye was swollen and colored with a deep purple that was almost black. I smirked, happy that he looked worse than I did.

“Okay, whatever happened between you two, it’s not coming on to the field. Got it?” Coach snapped.

We both agreed, and he let Ace pass but stopped me from going any farther. I was pulled to his desk, sat in the chair and was made to listen to a ten-minute lecture on my behavior during yesterday’s game. “I made the mistake of showing you the tabloid,” he admitted. “I didn’t know Whitney was back.”

“Well, she’s not anymore,” I half snarled half pouted.

“Now, whose fault is that, boy? You trying to blame me?” Damn. The man was scary when he was angry.

“No, sir,” I said and dropped my face in my hands. “Sorry.”

“I’m sure you’ll work it out,” he offered. “If she came back after all the stunts you pulled, why would she care about this?”

I didn’t want to get into the politics of it with him, I just wanted to be released from his rantings and lecturing. “I hope you’re right, sir.”

***

I’d been able to avoid the press the past few games as I waited for my next rotation, but I was up and knew I couldn’t avoid them today. When I walked into the locker room, Coach was the first person I saw.

He narrowed his eyes at me. “Can I trust you on the mound today, son?”

I nodded, meeting him his eyes. “Yes, sir. I have some making up to do. To you and our fans.”

He nodded, dismissing me, and I headed to my locker to get dressed for pre-game practice. I was feeling lighter, then ran into Ace.

“I’m not done with you yet, boy,” he warned with the smirk I’d come to loathe.

I smirked right back. After all, Whitney was gone, my reputation was smeared, and my jaw was still swollen as all hell. What else could this bastard do to me?

“Hope you have a good game too, Ace,” I said, deciding to simply take the high road on this one.

Hours later, the game was about to begin, and I stepped to the mound, turning to face my catcher and the empty seats behind him, ignoring the boos coming from the stand when my name was called.

I refused to look up at the skybox. Refused to look anywhere but at the plate, and the batter who was stepping up to it.

Strike.

Hell yeah.

Strike two.

Fuck yeah.

Strike three, and I knew I’d be alright.

And I was.

As each batter took the plate, I mentally scanned through their statistics, their weaknesses, and their strengths as they stood there staring me down. My fingers rolled around the ball as the catcher offered his options, my head shaking until we agreed with where my fingers would lie on the seams, and I nodded.

A swing and a miss. Three times. You’re out.

I didn’t believe this team was worried about our game today, especially since I’d fallen apart and looked to be out of my groove.
Well, boys, you should have come prepared because golden arm is back and thirsty for blood.

Every inning, I struck out batter after batter. Our guys slammed the hell out of the balls pitched to them and scored seven runs by the fourth inning. Me fucking included. Fans were cheering as I stepped on the base. Looked like all was forgiven.

By the sixth, I had their batters all jammed up. My pitches were so precise to each batters’ weakness, I was unstoppable. In the seventh inning, I expected to be pulled. I honestly had no idea how many balls I’d thrown over the plate.

But Coach just leaned against the wall, his arms crossed over his chest, a little smile on his face. Alrighty then, I’ll keep going.

I finished the entire game, something that rarely happens anymore, with another no-hitter. I’d almost thrown a perfect game. Adrenaline rushed through my veins like fire eating up paper. Everyone cheered, came to lift me off my feet and pat me on the back. Everyone except Ace.

Fuck him.

The press loved me again, and I answered question after question for nearly an hour after the game. I signed balls for another hour, doing my best to make up for being such an ass. I smiled for selfies and shook hands. These were my fans, they deserved better than what I’d been giving them.

The locker was mostly cleared out by the time I got back in there, which was a blessing. The few remaining were talking about the party at Ace’s.

“You going?” Marty asked as I got iced up and went through post-game rehab.

“I wasn’t invited,” I said with a laugh. “Not that I would anyway.”

“Want me to go? Do some recon?”

“Really?” I couldn’t imagine Marty as a spy, at least not a very good one. “Sure, you could do that,” I said, deciding it was best to just not argue with him. Plus, he looked excited to be playing 007.

He hung out with me until I was finished and was ready to head to my SUV. Marty waved as he climbed into his red truck, and I laughed as I realized he was scampering off to be a mole, something he could never pull off. There was nothing smooth about Marty. He didn’t have many friends, aside from Frank, so it wasn’t like anyone would even tell him what was going on, if there was, in fact, something going on at all. Oh well, it would keep him busy for the night. Now I just needed to find something to keep myself busy.