Catching Tatum (26 page)

He propped up on his elbow and bent down to find my lips and I moved to meet him. It was like electricity when our lips met. There was a desperation in him I'd never felt before. He was hurt and I was comfort. He was lonely and I was company. He was no longer bound to her. Or was he? He was. He was mad and I was retaliation. I would not be that and I would not be the other woman. But I would let him kiss me a little longer.

My hand found his hair and tangled into it; his hand moved down, down the side of my face, down my neck, down my chest, slowing only slightly as it grazed over my breast and I sucked in a breath. I wanted it but I didn't. Not like this with both of us in the middle of something with someone else. But I let him continue down my torso to rest on my hip. He squeezed slightly and, without conscious effort, my body responded and arched up and over to him. I felt him, erect. I'd been in this position, maybe not the exact position but pretty much the same, with Cole plenty of times when we were in high school. I knew what came next; I would reach over and touch him. I wanted to touch him, to feel his strength and vulnerability under my fingers, and he would let me do anything and everything I wanted.

But it didn't have to come next.

He groaned, low and deep. He kissed me harder, and his thumb latched the lace of my panties. He wanted me. A delicious shiver tingled all the way down my spine. I leaned further into him, my thighs pressed tight against him. He lifted his lips ever so slightly from mine, licked them sweetly, and gave me the pep talk I needed, even though it was for him not for me.

“You have to be strong.”

“Why? Tell me why,” I said, biting his lower lip just a little.

“Because you believe she's my true love,” he said, kissing me hard, squeezing my hip in his strong hand.

I arched in response, and whispered “What if I believe you're my true love?”

He kissed me again. “You don't. Not yet; it's not in your eyes. You don't know who you love.”

“You don't know what I know.”

“Don't I?” he asked, moving his thumb slowly, deliberately under the lace.

“No.”

“You can see his face right now, just like I can see hers. But I won't stop tonight.”

Our words were staggered between kisses; deep, long, desperate kisses that begged for more but hoped nothing else would happen.

“Come on, girl,” he whispered, pushing my shirt up. At the same time he moved his head away from mine, lowering it. He was nearly to second and rubbed against me beginning a rhythm neither one of us would be able to stop. “You want to prove to yourself that you can follow your rules.”

“Why don't you quit driving me crazy then?” I panted, restraining the urge to take him in my hands.

“I'm weak tonight,” he said lifting his face back to mine, “I've respected your rules because I was waiting for her. But I always felt like you'd bend them if I pushed you, so I never did. Tonight I will push you and you need to be strong enough for both of us.”

“Why?”

“Redemption.”

He was giving me a chance to redo one of my biggest regrets, if I wanted to. But he was also telling me he wouldn't stop me, not this time …I had to stop myself. And he was pleading with me to take the do-over, to stop, to save us both.

I took it. I could do it. No man owned me. I was stronger than the boiling desire running through my body. I could do it … I really could do it! With every ounce of effort I had left, I pushed Parker off me, onto his back and laid a hand on his chest, his beating heart knocking fiercely under it.

“We're not doing anything tonight,” I said and leaned down for a final kiss. My dreads rolled all around us. His arms wrapped me up and I knew he tasted the tears that ran from my eyes as they made a trail down my face. I did it. I was strong enough.

“That a girl.” He cooed, pride and relief ringing in his voice. He cupped my head to his chest and we held each other a long time in stillness, afraid the slightest move would set us off again.

“Good night, Parker,” I whispered and curled my leg over his.

He ran his thumb across my cheek. “Sweet dreams,” he said, kissing my forehead.

The next morning my phone vibrated on the nightstand, waking me. Parker was gone, along with one of the coffee cups by the mini coffee pot. I was alone in the room. I had always been a hard sleeper but it surprised me that I could sleep through him getting up, brewing coffee, and leaving the room.

Since his shirt was on my back, I knew he couldn't have gone far. It was like him to take an early morning walk alone.

I went to my phone. It was a text from Cole. I smiled.

Now I know how u feel when I'm on the road. I miss your beautiful face.

Awwww

U having fun?

Yep, yep! Gonna see the Redwoods today. Should b back way late tonite

I'll be gone.

:(

I'll be back Friday.

I know. I'll be at the game silly

Wanna go out Saturday?

lol sure. I'm off at 2

I SMILED TO MYSELF,
because of Cole's text and because of me. No guilt—none! I screamed a little and danced with the phone. I wanted to see him. The night before had changed everything. I would be there for Parker but I realized I wanted to be
with
Cole.

The trees and ocean views on the coast along Highway 101 were breathtaking. Parker stopped at the first two beaches we came to and we hunted for shells, chased seagulls, and stuck our toes into the salty sand. We found a long dock at one inlet and walked out on it, hand-in-hand, and for once holding hands with Parker felt wrong. The trees were majestic and demanded awe. We pulled off the highway frequently to follow trails into the thick of them and stand at their bases and marvel at how high and wide and large they really were. It was a bright, cloudless summer day but some of the trees were so big and tall the sun's rays barely peppered the ground under them. I always thought the redwood forest was this one little place in California, but the giant trees of Northern California dotted the coast for miles.

Parker tried to get caught up in the landscape or lost in the Sasquatch myths that pervaded the area—the boy was obsessed with Bigfoot—but then I would see his eyes darken, shoulders slump, and his dreams of a happily ever after with her, poof into smoke all over again. It hurt me to see him in pain, but I didn't know how to fix it or psychologize him through it, so I tried to distract him when I saw the look on his face. I would jump on his back and make him run with me, or wrap my legs and arms around him tight and try to soak up the hurt that I pretended not to have noticed. When we were in the car I asked him about books or Bigfoot or planes—anything, anything to keep his face from turning down the way it did when he thought of her.

Eventually the forest ended and so did California. We drove through Oregon accompanied by a Clive Cussler book full of mystery and adventure that he picked up at a little bookstore in some nameless town where we stopped to eat. Then we were home, like it never happened, except that Parker wasn't the same. He was quieter than usual and I could tell depression was getting the best of him. I felt like it was all my fault. If we never went down there, he never would have seen her with another guy and he wouldn't have given up hope. I apologized and he insisted it wasn't my problem, but I still felt responsible.

Cole came back the following Friday and asked for an early ride to the gym. I was more than happy to oblige. I missed him and couldn't wait to see him. He was waiting, like usual, outside when I got there. The sun was dawning a little later every day and that hot August morning it was dark when I picked him up. He was silhouetted in the street light when I pulled up and the first thought that popped into my head was that I wouldn't have been able to resist him had it been him in the bed instead of Parker.

“What?” he asked as he got in.

I grinned like a school girl. “Nothing,” I said, but then kissed him and told him that I'd missed him. I hated that all I could think about was making out with Cole the whole drive to the gym. I wanted to touch him, feel his skin on my skin. My body was such a traitor, or was it a magnet to what it wanted? He filled me in on the last game and did a couple of rounds with me at the gym before leaving with Derrick later that morning.

I didn't get a chance to talk to him again until after the game that night. We lost by two runs but Cole managed to throw three outs and still keep the ladies swooning despite the loss. Everyone knew there was a scout watching. The rumor was he was there for a player on the other team, but a scout watched everyone. Cole was at his best but the other team won so he figured it was all for nothing. I took him to Baskin Robins and he bought my banana split.

“You can't win them all,” I said wanly.

“Nah, but it would be nice to pull one off when there's someone watching. Our defensive game sucked and it made me look bad.” He looked up at me, the frustration and disappointment thick in his eyes. He needed a break from the team because he, like me, often said too much and something like that after a loss could get him in trouble. “I just want a shot, you know. It's all I want anymore. I don't screw around anymore. You're the first girl, I swear, since I signed and you get what the game demands from me. I don't think you're a distraction at all. I'm good enough to get there. I'll do well. I can play with them. I just want to get there.”

I was flattered and reassured by what he said. He was justifying his time with me and confirming that there hadn't been anyone else.

“And then what?” I asked. “What if you get a contract? What then?”

“I play!” he said, throwing his arms wide to both sides. “I made it, I'm there.”

“So it's about the fame then and not the game?”

“No, it's all about the game. That's the only game there is. This is ... this is ...”

“The middle,” I suggested. “This is the in between. You should enjoy the middle.” It sort of worked on me when Parker said it; maybe it would work on Cole. It did not. He was too much like me.

“You don't get it. I don't have a Plan B. And this is no place to stay. I'm not in college ... I can't support myself on this. You drive me around in your car. The last two years I didn't even have that. You make more than I do and you work at a gym. This isn't a dream, not now, not after three years. I'm kidding myself. And my chances get worse every year.”

“Calm down. You're twenty-three, not thirty-three. You have plenty of years still.”

“OK, and will you stick around with me for the next ten years while I make less than minimum wage chasing a dream that might never happen?”

He was asking about my future with him. I wanted to answer to reassure him but at the same time, if I did, was I conceding? “It's four months of the year. You have the rest to make money,” I said, instead.

“Right. Doing what? What kind of job can I get where they let me take almost half the year off? And school, how am I supposed to pay for that?”

“Why not do a college contract?”

“Because I have no Plan B. Why would I pay money I don't have to go to school for no good reason?”

“There's gotta be something. What else would you want to be?”

“All I've ever wanted to be is a catcher and a hitter and play under the lights. Nothing else matters.”

“You're going to make me go there, aren't you?” I asked him.

He looked up from his fudge brownie sundae, unsure of what I meant.

“What about me?” I asked him. “I'm not for a single second saying I'm thinking about anything long term with you. Don't think this is about you and me getting together.”

He grinned, his eyebrows rising.

“It's not about that,” I said, kicking him lightly under the table. “But ... and this is completely hypothetical: what if we do get together? Would that change you wanting to go to school?”

“Would you
not
get together with me if I didn't go to school?”

I thought about it. “I don't know. It doesn't really matter right now because you're having fun, but it makes me sad when you talk about your future like that.”

“It's always only been baseball. If you gave me a shot and said I had to come up with another plan I have no idea what I would do. I'm good enough to get there. I'm made for this. If they give me a shot I can do it. I know I can. I guess this is what I'd tell you ...” He looked at me like he meant it more than hypothetically. “This is me, babe, love me or leave me. I want this and I can do it, and if you give me a chance I'll show you what kind of a man I am. I'll do it—I’m doing it. I have the talent, I've got the passion; all I need is a girl at my side that believes in me, and the bigs to call me up.”

It didn't frustrate me. He was a dreamer; it was romantic. He believed in his dream so much he didn't need another. It was scary. It was life on the edge of being insane. It was exhilarating; it was fire. I knew why Parker was attracted to me; the same spark in Cole drew me to him. I wanted to hope with him and watch his dreams come true, but I couldn't admit it seriously. It would mean too much to him.

“You're nuts,” is all I said.

“Yep and just crazy enough to believe it can happen, if we can win a freaking game when a scout's here.”

I dropped him off a little later and we made plans to meet the next day at the gym about the time I got off. He came in, cute as ever, in his Patriots hat and tried to sweet talk me before I even punched out.

“Let me drive,” he said.

“It's my car.”

“I know where we're going.”

“So do I. The Mariners are playing tonight, duh.”

“Not yet. Game's not ‘til seven—what kind of a fan are you?”

“Apparently not an obsessed one. Fine, drive.” I grinned.

He took me first to Pikes Place Market on the water. We walked inside the pier buildings, watched the fish get thrown, posed for pictures, and then passed by this little shop playing our Jack Johnson song. About the time I thought it was a perfect moment to dance, he did just what my dad would have done.