Playing Catch: A Baseball Romance Read online

  “Chicken fingers!” the little girl squealed as she messed up her father’s hair.

  Their obvious love and affection for each other had Kirk’s throat lumping up. He fell in step behind them, walking with Mr. Powers.

  “How’s Marcia feeling these days?” he inquired, since it seemed like Jeanine was concerned about her friend.

  “She’s not admitting she has a problem.” Her father pursed his lips and shook his head. “She’s not allowing herself to rest. Feels guilty whenever someone’s helping her. Her best friend, Jeanine, offered to babysit next Wednesday so she and Brock could have a day off together, and it’s like pulling teeth to get her to accept.”

  So, that was why Jeanine skipped the game. She was doing her friend a favor and it looked like she had no plans to surprise him on his one-day off, like she’d promised before their disastrous night together. A chill settled over Kirk like a wet poncho. He should have no expectations when it came to her.

  “Anyway, I figure Jeanine’s getting practice taking care of the baby and convincing Marcia to relax,” Marcia’s father said.

  “It must be tough,” Kirk picked up the conversation. “Has Brock convinced Marcia to see a therapist?”

  “He’s trying, but my daughter is as stubborn as a twenty-team mule train. She hasn’t been the same since the baby was born, and I hate to see her suffer.” The older man sighed loudly. “She’s been through so much. I’m just glad she has such a good friend in Jeanine. That woman’s got a steel rod up her spine. She’s really good for my Marcia.”

  “A day off for Marcia and Brock could be just what the doctor ordered,” Kirk agreed. He’d have to find something else to do that day, now that Jeanine had scotched her plans with him.

  “Yep, and I’m going fishing with my old army buddies. Heard you and Jeanine will be babysitting partners.” The older man dropped a bombshell. “She’s planning a trip to the zoo, then overnight camping in our backyard. Bianca’s excited to sleep up in the treehouse, but you and the baby are going to be in a tent. She’s got it all set up.”

  Kirk’s pulse ratcheted up in pace. So, Jeanine had planned something with him, and this was what it was like in the friend-zone.

  “Sounds like fun.” Kirk scratched the back of his head. Growing up, he’d never been camping, not even the backyard kind. His mother would accept nothing less than five-star hotels and resorts, and even then, she’d complain about the amenities and lack of service.

  At least Jeanine hadn’t forgotten about him. Was he surprised? Definitely. Was this something he had been looking forward to? Maybe not. But if it was a chance to get to know her better, than he could sacrifice a night with a crying baby and hang out with her.

  “Pappy!” Bianca circled back to her grandfather’s side. “Dad says we can go out for ice cream. Let’s go. Let’s go.”

  “You haven’t had dinner yet, little squirt.” Pappy tugged the brim of Bianca’s baseball cap down over her eyes.

  “That’s right, Binky. Dinner first. I’ll call for some pizza and meet you guys back home after we shower and change.” Brock slung his arm around Kirk and walked with him to the clubhouse. “You’re coming with us, or did you have a hot date?”

  “Seeing as my hot date is at your place, I’ll pick her up there. We were going to meet up after the game.” Or at least he was going to propose it once he signed an autograph for her. Kirk sauntered into the clubhouse, feeling two hundred percent better.

  Even though Jeanine hadn’t seen him play ball, she’d done a noble thing by letting Bianca and Pappy have her tickets and taking care of the baby so they could attend.

  “Glad things are going well with you two,” Brock said, opening his locker. “Any time you want the keys to the houseboat, it’s yours. I have one docked at Saguaro Lake.”

  “Might be nice for an overnighter.”

  “Definitely romantic.” Brock quirked a grin at him. “Make it count. She’s the best there is. Loyal to a fault, a guard dog, fearless and compassionate.”

  He’d agree with all of the above, except the loyalty part. A woman who had a string of one-night-stands was by definition, not loyal. But then, neither was he. That was why he was seeing Dr. Sparks. The worst thing he could do would be to get under Jeanine’s hard shell and then end up hurting her.

  “Jeanine’s a loyal friend, I get that. But has she ever had a steady relationship with a man?” Kirk was treading on shaky ground, but hey, guys gossiped too, and if Brock could clue him in, why not?

  “She’s like you, bud. High standards. I’m surprised she’s looking at you twice. The woman’s probably been saving herself for you.”

  “Yeah, right. Saving herself while having one-night stands. That’s a new one.”

  “It is, dude. She’s saving her heart.” Brock tapped Kirk’s chest. “That’s the hardest to save and the easiest to break.”

  Kirk was knocked speechless. His own heart leaped and pranced like a wild horse against his ribcage. Of course. While she was sleeping around with guys she didn’t care about, she was really a virgin at heart.

  Maybe he did mean something to her, and she wanted to be friends first. Which was scary, because it would mean knowledge before sex. Friends before lovers. The type of relationship he’d never seen enacted for him—not with the way his parents dropped their pants for a slew of strangers.

  Could he do it? Ensure his own loyalty was strong and true? Or was he doomed to be like his parents, swapping lovers like December twenty-sixth at the mall gift exchange?

  * * *

  Jeanine sat on the porch swing, rocking gently back and forth and back and forth. Baby Brock slept, cuddled in her arms, his head resting on her left breast. She’d changed him and fed him, and stared into his sweet baby blue eyes. What an adorable doll he was. It was hard to believe he was colicky and cranky, but then, maybe he had his day and night times reversed and Marcia was in for one hell of a night.

  She feathered her fingers lightly over his fuzzy, downy blond hair and closed her eyes, drifting with the well-oiled swing that no longer creaked—now that Brock was home and keeping everything maintained.

  Bianca and Pappy had been so excited to go out to the game. Frankly, she was surprised Brock hadn’t offered them tickets, but when Pappy explained that Marcia didn’t trust anyone else to babysit Brock Jr., it all made sense.

  The entire family was held hostage to Marcia’s fears that the baby would get hurt. The only people she trusted were Pappy, Brock, and Jeanine, or Auntie J to Bianca.

  “You’re not such a monster baby, are you?” Jeanine rocked the little sweetheart. “I bet you’ll have fun camping with us. Your sister wants to sleep in the treehouse, so you and I are sleeping in the tent. “

  It was too bad about Kirk, and she should probably tell him he wasn’t getting a surprise date. There was no way she could let Kirk sleep in the tree house with Bianca or anywhere near that precious little girl.

  She hugged the baby, too lazy to go into the house and get her phone to text him. He was probably done with the game already and wondering where she was. Or maybe he handed out tickets like candy and he was already off with some other woman he’d invited.

  What was he after with her? Should she believe the words of the man in the hoodie? Or was she purposely pushing him away because he was getting under her shield?

  Jeanine was tired of psychoanalyzing herself. For once, it might have been nice to pour it all at the feet of the therapist, and let her solve her problems, but unfortunately, it wouldn’t solve a thing.

  The therapist was only a bystander. Jeanine would have to live with the results.

  A tear slid down Jeanine’s cheek, but she didn’t bother to wipe it. Baby Brock snored peacefully, his sweet breath puffing through his chubby cheeks. His lips were pink and pursed, sometimes making a sucking motion as his eyes rolled behind his thin eyelids.

  She’d never be able to have a baby. Never take the chance of being pregnant and delivering a girl—a baby whore.
No, a precious angel she couldn’t guard—couldn’t keep safe. Maybe that was why her mother left her. She couldn’t bear to see her daughter turn into a whore—used by men, helpless.

  Helpless as a newborn baby while men gratified themselves over her body. Her mother never wanted a girl. Her mother never wanted to be pregnant. Her mother might have been too young.

  Horror seized Jeanine’s chest and she gasped for breath. Her eyes bulged open and the porch suddenly seemed too small as an evil, bone-dry wind sucked the moisture from her throat, gagging the scream trapped in her throat.

  “Jeanine!” Pounding footsteps clambered onto the porch.

  She whirled around, protecting the baby who startled and woke, letting out a high-pitched wail.

  “Don’t hurt the baby. Don’t hurt him.” Jeanine put her hand out to ward off the intruder. “Stay back. Stay away.”

  “It’s me, Kirk.” He stood in front of her, hands out, palms up, beseeching her. “It’s going to be okay. Brock and Bianca went to get something to eat. I came by to fetch you and the baby.”

  “I can’t go with you.” She huddled in the corner of the porch. “I don’t know you.”

  “What happened with Dr. Sparks? What happened to you, Jeanine?”

  “Nothing.” She rocked the baby, trying to calm him, but the more she rocked, the more agitated he got. “Please, stop crying. Stop crying, baby.”

  “Let me take him.” Kirk moved slowly, his hands outstretched. “Let me help.”

  “No. You don’t really want to help me. You have something up your sleeve. You aren’t who you say you are.” She couldn’t catch her breath, couldn’t speak fast enough.

  “Where’s this coming from?” Kirk froze, blinking, his face stiff. “Did Dr. Sparks upset you? Did she say something to you?”

  “No!” Jeanine yelled. Her heart was on a tripwire, and she was shaking from head to toe. “I didn’t go in. I couldn’t answer the fucking questions. I’m beyond help.”

  In a single motion, Kirk lunged forward and wrapped both Jeanine and the baby in his arms. “You’re going to be okay. I’ll help you. Let’s go into the house and calm down.”

  “I’m calm. I’m okay. I’m fine. Just fine.” Jeanine couldn’t even enunciate clearly. Cold sweat bathed her face and she trembled, her legs weak as rubber.

  Slowly, Kirk guided her across the porch and into the house. He led her to the sofa and pressed her down, then took the baby, who stopped crying as soon as he put him in the battery-powered swing.

  “What’s happening? What’s going on?” Jeanine curled up on the couch in a fetal position, holding her knees tight. “Am I going crazy?”

  “You’re having a nervous breakdown. I’m checking you into a clinic tonight.” He covered her with a throw. “Don’t move.”

  “I’m okay. I’m strong. This isn’t happening. I can cope. Don’t call anyone.”

  He took his phone out and spoke. First to Marcia, then to Brock. And finally, he called Dr. Sparks, who recommended he take her to the hospital for evaluation.

  “I’m not going.” Jeanine put up a feeble fight. “I’m not a psycho. I’m doing well. I am.”

  “You are, to the best of your ability.” He lay down next to her and cradled her in his arms. “You have so much strength, but even the strongest need a rest. Need someone to share your burdens with.”

  “Why do you care? I’m a mess.”

  “You’ve been through so much. The fact that you’re still running your business, caring for your friend, and looking like a million bucks shows how strong you are. But you need more than strength. You need to trust and let someone care for you. You never had that growing up. You didn’t even have a mother or a father. You had strangers flit through your life, and you built a wall to protect yourself. But that wall you built keeps people out, so there’s no one to help, no one for you to lean on. No one to care for you and love you like you deserve.”

  “No one would ever care if they knew.”

  “I know, Jeanine. I know, and I care.” He pressed his lips to her forehead. “You were sexually abused by a man you trusted. He wrote you letters and he called you his lucky charm. On your sixteenth birthday, he took you and your friends to an amusement park. He commended your behavior, and he claimed to love you. I know about all this, and I want to help you.”

  Every muscle in Jeanine’s body clenched and goosebumps seized her skin. A strangled cry tore through her throat and her stomach wretched with nausea.

  “Who are you, Kirk? Why are you bothering me?”

  Footsteps thumped at the door, turning both Jeanine and Kirk toward a man holding a gun.

  It was Mr. Simpson. George.

  He waved the gun. “That’s right, Kirk. Why are you bothering my Jeanine?”

  Jeanine’s jaw dropped and her blood pressure shot through the roof. Sweat drenched her, and she couldn’t get enough air. Her fingers tingled and stars zapped in front of her eyes. She clung to Kirk, whimpering.

  “Coach Simpson?” Kirk shielded Jeanine with his body which instantly tightened into a protective shield. “You mean she’s the one you went to jail for? The one you claim framed you because you failed her in biology?”

  “She betrayed me, but she’s still mine. We were in love and then she had to squeal, all because I wouldn’t buy her a car. The bitch wanted a Mustang GT.” His voice was older and more gravelly, but still powerful. “Go away, Kirk. None of this concerns you.”

  “She’s my friend.”

  “She’s not worth getting shot for. She’s my little whore, and she’ll get what—”

  Kirk launched himself at Mr. Simpson at the same time the gunshot exploded.

  Jeanine held her face and screamed and screamed and screamed.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  A white hot pain flared over Kirk’s thigh, but it almost seemed like a mosquito bite as Kirk tackled his former baseball coach.

  Behind him, Jeanine screamed and the baby cried, but he couldn’t tend to them. He had to stop the monster. Stop the liar. The creep who’d let him and his teammates believe he’d been framed by a lying woman.

  The gun went off again before Kirk was able to twist it from George’s hand and knock it from his grip. He punched and pummeled him in the face, over and over, even after he passed out.

  “You’re hit. We have to stop the bleeding.” Jeanine grabbed him from behind.

  He looked down at his leg, and then he was retching, throwing up. A fierce pain burned through his leg, and he fell back, blood spurting from his thigh.

  “My belt. Use my belt,” he struggled to speak as black dots like flies hovered around his visual field.

  She ripped the belt from his jeans and fell on him, yanking it around his upper thigh close to the hip joint. Blood covered his pant leg, Jeanine’s chest, arms, and hands as she stuffed the throw blanket over his wound.

  “This is all my fault. It’s all my fault,” Jeanine muttered repeatedly. “My fault.”

  “It’s not your fault.” His teeth chattered at the effort to speak. “I couldn’t let that scumbag touch you.”

  “He came after me, not you.” The heels of her hands were soaked with his blood and the pressure she applied was like a hot iron crushing him to the bone.

  “If he hurts you, he hurts me. You’re mine, Jeanine. You’re my treasure.” Kirk lay on the ground, helpless as his blood drained. He fought to hold onto her. To memorize her face, her touch, the way she pushed on his leg, trying to stem the blood flow that was rapidly soaking the blanket.

  “Kirk. Kirk. Stay awake. Don’t go.” Tears mixed with splattered blood streaked down her face. “Don’t die, Kirk. Hold on. I can’t bear to lose you. I can’t bear it, Kirk. Don’t go. Don’t leave me.”

  Her voice was fading into a dull hum. He tried to speak, to let her know he wasn’t leaving her, but his body throbbed with searing pain and he was so cold, he couldn’t tell whether he still had hands and feet. Logically, he knew he was going into shock. But he fought
it, focusing on the kisses raining over his face like butterflies shivering to keep warm. It was no use. A dark force pulled him and his eyes grew heavy until numbness overwhelmed him.

  Jeanine. I think I love you. The words willed themselves to his lips, but he didn’t know where he was, or whether she was but a butterfly blown away in a whirling dust storm.

  * * *

  “Where am I? Where’s Kirk?” Jeanine’s heart thudded as she fought under the blankets of fog holding her hostage. Why couldn’t she open her eyes? Where was she?

  Was she also dead, like Kirk? And if so, where was he?

  “Kirk, Kirk! Don’t go. Don’t leave me.”

  “Easy there,” a man’s voice spoke close to her ear.

  “Kirk?”

  “No, It’s Brock.”

  “I’m here, too.” Marcia said.

  Jeanine turned to her friend’s voice and struggled with her eyelids. Had someone glued them shut?

  “You’ve been sedated,” Marcia said.

  She could feel someone rub her hair from her face, but she couldn’t move her arms and legs. Everything was so heavy, and something held her hands around her waist.

  “W-why can’t I move? Where’s Kirk?”

  “He’s okay,” Brock said. “You saved his life.”

  Jeanine willed her eyelids to open. Her friends were blurry, shadows against the harsh light. “Where is he?”

  “They’re operating on him to repair his artery.”

  “Are you okay, honey?” Marcia stroked her face. “Want any water?”

  “Why are my hands tied? Why?”

  “You had a breakdown. You wanted to die in Kirk’s place, so Dr. Sparks thought it better to restrain you.”

  The edges of the fog rolled back enough for her to remember the blood, the police, and George.

  He’d yelled at her right before they marched him off in handcuffs. I kept myself for you, but you betrayed me. You cheated on me. You played the whore.

  “I’m not a whore,” Jeanine whispered through her dry mouth. “Kirk thinks I’m a treasure. He thinks I belong to him.”