The Game Changer (The Perfect Game #2)

The Game Changer (The Perfect Game #2) Page 3

“Then why didn’t she let me kiss her?” He glanced at me again.

“That’s a good question. You should ask her,” I said. “Time to grow a pair, little brother. How are you going to feel if she starts dating someone else?”

I watched his knuckles turn white as his grip on the steering wheel tightened. “I’m not going to be happy.”

“Exactly.”

Dean pulled into the hotel parking lot, and I hopped out of the car, half praying that my teammates would be in their rooms instead of the hotel bar. I walked around to the driver’s side and extended my hand toward my brother, before he grabbed it and pulled me in for an awkward through-the-window hug. I pulled back, and we slapped each other on the shoulders before sharing a long look. I broke eye contact and turned to leave.

“It will all work out. You’ll get her back,” Dean predicted with naive confidence.

I breathed deeply before saying, “I fucking better, or I don’t know what I’ll do.”

“I’ll help you.” Dean grinned up at me with a smile that looked eerily like my own.

I nodded and admitted, “I’ll need it.” Giving him one last pat, I said, “I’ll call you later.”

“Alright. Take care.”

I watched as he drove off, his hand sticking out of the window in a good-bye wave. I raised my arm, waving back before he was out of view.

With a deep sigh, I headed indoors. All hopes for a quiet entrance were dashed as the sound of my last name filtered through the hotel bar and into the lobby.

“Carter! Carterrrrr! Get in here!”

I glanced to my right, noticing a few of my teammates getting comfortable with a group of good-looking women. I shook my head before walking over, making no attempt to hide the disapproval on my face.

“Where’d you run off to tonight, kid?” my teammate Costas asked, his head peering around the scantily clad woman currently sitting on his lap. I thought about his wife, staying home with their kids while he traveled with the team, and forced my judgment into quiet submission.

“I had some personal shit to take care of.”

“Have a drink with us,” he said and gestured for the blonde bartender. She finished drying the glass in her hands before setting it down and heading our way.

“Not tonight.” I shook my head.

“More drinks for us, then.” Costas winked, and my stomach turned. I wanted to lose my shit on him, just grab him by his smug face and ask if he realized what he was doing, what he was risking. How just one girl… one meaningless night… could cause his world to crumble around him. But I couldn’t get pissed at Costas for my mistakes, my loss.

“See you in the morning.” I turned away from the bar, their comments following behind me.

“Poor rookie, did you see his face?”

“Welcome to the big leagues, kid… women in every state. No offense, sweetheart.”

Idiots.

They’d misread the disgust on my face as shock. Maybe if they were ever forced to lose the one person who meant everything to them, they’d understand what my face was truly saying.

I made my way into my hotel room and collapsed onto the bed. With my cell phone in hand, I stared at the screen for what seemed like hours, resisting the urge to dial Cassie’s number, or send her a text message. I realized it wasn’t going to be easy to stay away from her when everything in my body wanted her back.

Suddenly, I shot up from my bed and made my way toward the desk in my room. Using the hotel’s complimentary stationery and pen, I did something I couldn’t remember ever doing in my life.

I wrote her a letter.

Kitten,

I’ve realized that the only way I’ll be able to stop myself from calling you, or texting you, or e-mailing you, or sending a carrier pigeon to your fucking window, is to write to you. Which sort of makes me feel like a pussy, honestly. But if I don’t do this, I’m afraid I’ll ruin it all before I even get the chance to fix it.

You’re probably wondering what happened tonight. I know you didn’t expect to see me, and I don’t even know how you’re feeling about the whole thing, but I hope it’s the same way I feel. I never stopped loving you. I know I may have a funny way of showing it, but I’ll make it up to you. You’ll see.

I’m dying to get on the next flight to New York and win you back. But I can’t do that until I’m free and clear from all my past attachments. I’m just trying to do the right thing by you. I realize that my idea of the right thing isn’t always everyone else’s, but I hope in this case you’ll agree with me.

So… I hope you’ll understand that I won’t come and ask for your forgiveness while I’m still legally married to someone else.

You probably think that’s stupid, right?

I’ll always love you.

Jack

He finished telling me about the night I left, and I blinked back the tears forming in my eyes. “You wrote me a letter?”

“I wrote you a lot of letters.”

Stunned, I mumbled, “I’d like to see those someday.”

Through my shock, I literally ached for a subject change. I knew I’d asked for this, but it hurt. Talking about our past shouldn’t matter for our future. But that was my dumb heart talking. My heart… my little, keep-me-in-a-box-wrapped-in-cotton-behind-a-wall-built-with-bricks-and-stone-and-concrete-where-no-one-can-ever-hurt-me, stupid heart. My mind was at war with that beating thing. I fully believed that if my heart and my head could wage a battle within me, they would. And eventually, I’d die from it.

No, Cassie.

You need to hear this.

The only way to move forward without regret was to accept what happened. I couldn’t change our past, but I could change our future. And in order for me to truly forgive him and learn to trust him again, I needed to hear what took him so long. Truthfully, I longed to begin my own internal healing.

“So, then what?” My demeanor turned serious with my tone.

“What do you mean… so, then what?” he asked, his expression showing he was perplexed by my question.

“That was only the night I left. Then what happened? We have six months of CliffsNotes to get through here, Carter.”

“I thought I was going to get kicked off the team the next day,” he admitted.

I propped myself up immediately. “Shut the hell up. What happened?”

Tired and bleary-eyed, I flung the strap of my bag over my shoulder and pressed the Down button on the elevator. I fidgeted with my tie, straightening my jacket as the doors dinged before opening, and I stepped inside the empty compartment.

The lobby filled quickly with chatter as the rest of my team filtered in, dragging duffle bags, and some even dragging their kids behind them.

I checked out, tugged on my hat, and walked out toward the waiting charter bus.

“Carter, come here.” Coach’s voice startled me, and I dropped the bag at my side.

I walked over to him, and he tossed his arm around my shoulder. “Let’s walk,” he said.

Shit. Is he sending me back down to the minor leagues already?

Coach leaned in and locked his gaze with mine. “You’re a good kid, Carter. I like you. But don’t ever bolt out of my clubhouse again before I tell you that you can go. You understand me?” His voice was kind, but there was steel underneath it he wanted me to hear.

“Yes, sir. I’m really sorry about that—”

“Don’t apologize, kid. Just don’t let it happen again or I’ll send your ass down to the minors so quick your head’ll spin,” he threatened, making sure I understood my position on the team totem pole. Message received, loud and clear.

“Yes, Coach,” I answered respectfully, thankful that no one else was close enough to hear our conversation.

“Go get on the bus.” He patted my shoulder with a slight shove.

“I would have cried,” I told him with a grimace.

“No, you wouldn’t have. But I was scared shitless,” he admitted with an uncomfortable laugh.

“I bet. OK, so you flew back to Arizona for the game. We both know how that went.” I paused, referring to the game they lost that ended his postseason for the year. “Then what did you do?”

“I think you’re enjoying this a little too much.” He pulled the pillow out from under me, and my head crashed against the mattress.

“Hey!” I yelled, stretching for the pillow he held just out of reach. “Jack, really. I need to know.”

He threw my pillow across the room and then patted the top of his invitingly. Forcing me to share his pillow, he pressed his forehead against mine.

“You want to hear how I starting stalking you as soon as I got back to Arizona?”

“Uh, absolutely,” I practically squealed, and he laughed.

“I’ll tell you over breakfast. I’m starving.” He winked and planted a kiss on my forehead before hopping out of bed. Then he stretched his arms above him and his muscles flexed and bulged. My gaze locked onto his defined, tanned abs. “Like what you see?”

“Eh, I’ve seen better,” I said playfully, refusing to feed the beast that is Jack Carter’s ego.

“I highly doubt it.” He ran a hand down the length of his well-chiseled stomach. “This is Grade-A certified goods right here. You’re lucky I don’t charge admission.”

“To what? The gun show?” I pointed at his arms, my lips curling up in amusement.

“Exactly! The gun show,” he teased, before jumping on the bed and pinning me beneath him. He held me tight as I squirmed, trying to wriggle out of his hold. “Where do you think you’re going?”

“I thought we were eating,” I said with attitude, cocking my head to one side.

He released a hard breath, pushing himself off the bed. “Let’s go, then. You’re the one who can’t stop looking at me like I’m a piece of meat.”

“You called yourself Grade-A! That’s a meat label!” I shouted, my voice animated as I picked up a pillow and tossed it at him.

He snagged it effortlessly from the air. “Are you done playing? I thought you wanted to hear the rest of the story.” He smirked before walking out of the bedroom, leaving me alone with my thoughts.

Stalker

Jack

When she finally walked into the kitchen wearing nothing but my T-shirt, I almost turned her ass around and marched her right back into the bedroom. Ignoring the throbbing in my shorts, I stared into her nearly empty refrigerator. “You have no food,” I complained, closing the door.

“I eat out a lot.” She shrugged. “But I have cereal. And bread.”

She put four slices of bread in the toaster, and I led her by the hand to the kitchen table, pulling her chair out for her. I placed an empty bowl and spoon in front of her, followed by the milk and a box of cereal. Then I sat next to her, filling my bowl to the top with the crunchy shit.

“Can I hear about the stalking now,” she pleaded as she poured milk into her bowl.

“First of all, Kitten, you have to understand that I made myself a compromise. I had to put you in the back of mind until the season was over. I knew that if I lost both baseball and you, I’d have nothing in my life. I’d never be able to survive that much loss.”