Catching Tatum (27 page)

“Tatum, come here,” he said, pulling me into the center of the walkway. “Hey! Hey,” he shouted to the owner inside. “Can you turn that up real quick? I gotta dance with my girl.”

“I'm not your girl.”

“I keep telling you, you will be.” He winked and the music got louder and he danced me around the center of the walkway. I was so happy. I heard one girl walk by with her guy and ask him to dance like that; he said no. I smiled. I had what other girls wished for. I realized up until then that I had been comparing him to who he had been. He promised he was changed but I couldn't believe it. My mind refused to let go of who he was. But I had changed. I spent the night in bed with a man I could have been all over, who pretty much told me he wouldn't stop me if I wanted to go all the way, and I didn't. I was changed. Couldn't Cole really change, too? Couldn't I allow for the possibility? The old Cole would never do what he was doing. I remembered the dance on first base and let go of all the dances he refused me in school. I could be vulnerable. I could admit I was falling in love but not out loud. I was only at first base. It was no place for love.

I was light as a feather in his arms, I forgot the past and let go of what tomorrow would bring and lived in that moment with him. He had rhythm and I told him so. He said he knew that. Of course he would—he was Cole Jackson—everything came easily to him. Everything but me. Past or not, I decided that he still had more work to do to get me. Parker was part of it, but so was the fact that Cole was used to getting everything he wanted. If I was going to be his, he was going to have to work for me, a whole lot more than dancing in a market place.

When the song was done, he wrapped me up under one of his arms and we went into the shop with the music. He shook hands with the owner, an older woman with gray and black dreads that put mine to shame.

“That was about the sweetest thing I've ever seen,” she said. I looked up at Cole and said, “Yeah, he's kinda cool like that.”

The store was full of trinkets no one really needed but wanted when they saw them. I looked at the rings and found a thick-banded beaded one with a giant flower that covered my middle finger from knuckle to knuckle. I bought it on a whim, thinking the ring would help to remember the dance; then we continued on, wasting time in and out of shops. He didn't complain like he had when we were kids He went with me and stayed beside me and even looked at the things I looked at and asked why I liked them. He showed me what he liked. The whiskers on his face helped to define his jaw line in a way it never had been when we were kids. Why was he there, in my past, and here, in my present, all at the same time? I wished I never knew him before. It would have been so much easier if he was brand new to me. I leaned over to kiss him on his cheek and he looked over at me.

“What was that for?”

There were no words. I couldn't tell him what I was feeling because I didn't know. I shrugged and walked on. Eventually we made it to the game. It was like every other baseball game I'd ever watched. The rules were fair and safe, they all knew them, played by them, and because of it we had a good game. As with Parker and Cole, I didn't know who to cheer for. The teams were well-matched. Both meant something to me: one was my current home team, but the other had been my home team for years. I liked them both. I couldn't choose a favorite, so I watched the game play out. Maybe the winner of the game would lead me to a sign on who the winner of my game would be.

It didn't. It was just a game. The away team won. No signs, no magical insights; just a game.

We didn't head out with the crowd. Cole said he had a surprise and I felt a little guilty.

“You know, you don't have to make every date a big deal.”

“I thought that's what you wanted.”

“I want to know I matter to you, that you put thought into me and don't take me for granted. It doesn't mean every date has to be a big production.”

“Well, shoot, I'll keep that in mind ... after tonight.”

We walked the stadium every time we came to a game. Mostly he would imagine out loud what it would be like to play in front of thousands of fans someday. I loved the fire in his eyes. I believed him. He was a great player, made for greatness. Everyone knew it. It was only a matter of time. I didn't think it simply because I was sweet on him. I knew the game, and his talent and dedication would take him to the majors. We walked a different route that night and turned into a corridor I'd never been in, down some stairs, and to a gated barricade that separated us from the field. There was an old man there with a key and a big old yellow smile. He tipped his hat at us and stood to the side after he unlocked the gate.

“Thanks,” Cole said, shaking the man's hand, then pulled me onto the field.

It was a rush like none other. We were nowhere near alone. Fans were still clearing out, staff was cleaning up, but we were the only two on the field. It was exhilarating! I'd never been so close to the big guys. I wondered if I was going to meet someone, maybe Kenji, the Mariners’ catcher. I wasn't so lucky. Cole had some privilege because he played for the Patriots but it only went so far. We walked to the team dugouts and looked in.

“This is it. I'll be here. Doing this! And we'll be able to remember when we were here just thinking about it.”

He said “we” again. Always, lately, when he talked about the future he put me in it. Parker never did. “You gotta stop talking like that,” I said and hopped up onto the bench.

He looked at me quizzically, walked over to me, reached up, and grabbed me at the waist. “Like what?”

“Like I'm in this dream with you. You assume too much.”

“It's my dream. I can have it however I want it, and ever since I saw you again, I want you in it.”

“I have a choice, too.”

“I know. And you're taking a long time making it. And ...” He pulled me down off the bench. I jumped onto him and wrapped my arms and legs around him.

“And?” I asked.

He kissed me and wrapped his arms around my back, pulling me into him ever so much more.

“And ... you'll come around. You'll see.”

“How do you know?”

“No Plan B, remember? You're it, beautiful.”

“You're sure about that?”

“Yep.”

“We shall see,” I said, kissing him back.

I hopped down and let go of him to walk the field. There was a guy out there smoothing the dirt but I didn't care. I stood behind home plate and contemplated the magnitude of playing in a stadium. It made sense why Cole would want this. He was made to be watched. And I watched him. His back was to me. He was running away from me in a straight line. He looked as good in jeans and a tee, with his mitt tucked into the waistband, as he did in his uniform on our little field, or shirtless in the gym. He was a sight to behold.

I wondered, not for the first time, where we would be if Parker wasn't in the picture. But it didn't matter; he was. Things were exactly as they were supposed to be. For me, but not for Parker, who had lost his dream, and not for Cole, who already was so sure that I was a part of his. It didn't matter how much I was falling for Cole, or how sure he was that I would be his. I couldn't see myself in his dreams, at least not clearly. I had Parker to think about. He was heartbroken beyond belief. I had to be there for him. I couldn't leave him; it would be wrong.

“Hey, you!” Cole shouted from across the field.

“Hey, yourself!” I yelled.

“Get a ball!” he said while he pulled his mitt out from its resting place.

I ran back to the team dugout and found a ball. There was no way I could throw to where he was on second, so I ran to the pitcher's mound. Cole shouted an imaginary play-by-play. The man on first, whom he named Becker, was inching out, hoping the famed, shutout pitcher—me—wouldn’t notice. But I did and threw with fury to second. It bounced just shy of Cole's reach and he caught it up off the ground and beckoned for me to go to him.

“Lousy throw,” he said as I made my way. “Brett lets you leave the house with an arm like that?”

“I'm warming up. We need another mitt.”

“You come catch one,” he said, extending his mitt to me. I was running to second, absently; lost in the thrill of throwing a ball on the infield of the Mariners stadium. I had no idea how everything would change all over again in a matter of minutes.

AS SOON AS
I got to him, Cole dropped the mitt and ball and pulled me into his arms. “Well, well, well, look what I caught,” he said and kissed me fiercely. “Tatum, I want you. All to myself. I want you to be mine and I'll play your game, and I'll dance with you and do whatever else you want me to do, but I want you all to myself. I'm tired of competing. When you were gone it drove me crazy.”

“We didn't do anything.” I said, probably a little too defensively, remembering how close to everything we got.

He stopped me. “It's not that. I mean it is, but it isn't. I don't think you'd break your rules.” He looked down. “But if you did, I guess I deserve it.”

I wanted to tell him that no one deserved to be deceived or cheated on but it was too close to the guilt he carried. He expected punishment and had been paying for it for years. He expected me to hurt him.

“You think I did something ... to get back at you?”

“I don't think you'd break your rules,” he said again, knowing it's what I wanted to hear.

“But you think I did. You think I did something with Parker behind your back.”

He looked down. “Look,” he said, “I get that you want me to prove myself to you. And I will, but you gotta give me the chance to. I'm asking for a chance. Please.”

“Answer me first. Do you think I did something with him?”

“I don't want to, but it doesn't matter if you did.”

“That's a crappy answer, Cole.” I wanted him to know I was changed as much as he wanted me to believe he was.

“No, I don't. I don't.” He looked me in the eyes when he answered and I believed him. “But still,” he said, “it doesn't feel fair. I want a chance with you. Everything about our relationship ...”

“We don't have a relationship,” I corrected.

“Fine,” he conceded, still holding my hands. “This thing, whatever it is, that we have, I can't prove anything to you here. I want a relationship with you. I need you to trust me. Give me a chance. I won't hurt you again, I promise, but you have to let me prove it to you. Please.”

The pressure to say yes to him, there in the center of Mariner Field on second base, was as intense as the pressure to give myself to him all those years ago. But I was strong enough to resist Parker in the heat of the moment, and I was strong enough to resist Cole when he overwhelmed me with words and promises and perfect places.

“I can't right now,” I said and with my hands clenched in his. I told Cole about seeing Haylee with the other guy and how it crushed Parker and how I couldn't leave him. Worry swept over Cole's face.

“Have you talked to him since you got back?”

“No, not really. We don't talk much; he's not like you like that. He's quiet. When he has time and I have time we hang out. We usually drive up this place.” I didn't want to tell Cole too much about the lake because it felt like sharing secrets that were supposed to be for Parker and me alone.

“Can you get ahold of him now?”

“I don't know; if he's not on duty, probably. Why?” I was confused at Cole's sudden interest in his competition.

“He shouldn't be left alone.”

“Oh,” I said realizing what his worry was about. “He's not like that. He'll be fine. Besides he's on base and there are tons of people around all the time. They watch for that now with all the PTSD stuff.”

“No, it doesn't matter. He just lost everything that mattered to him. You can't leave him alone.”

With that we walked away from second base. Cole never pressured me after that. We weren't even official and it felt like he broke up with me.

He told me we needed to make sure Parker was OK. He was petrified Parker would hurt himself. He couldn't have that guilt on him again and so he let me go to help Parker through it. I was pretty sure Parker would be fine but there was enough doubt to make me worry, too. I remembered his face when he saw them together. I remembered how he took my hand and gave up on it all and how he told me he wouldn't stop me in bed. None of it was like the Parker I'd come to know.

Cole drove us back and had me try to get a hold of Parker. He wasn't answering texts or calls. I tried to explain to Cole that if he was on duty or sleeping he might not get them, but it wasn't enough for him. His fear for Parker overwhelmed him.

I thought it was too late to randomly go to his place and check on him, but Cole reminded me that it was better to be safe than sorry. It felt surreal. All of a sudden the man that had been his biggest competition was his biggest concern in life. We got to the base and I lied to get in, saying I was there for my parents, but we went to Parker's place. It was late and dark strange for us to be there knocking on Parker's door, but we did. He came to the door shirtless, barely awake, and in camo pajama pants.

“What's up?” he asked.

“We wanted to come over,” I said.

“Can we come in?” Cole asked.

Parker stepped out and let the door drift shut behind him. He crossed his arms suspiciously. “The other guys are sleeping. What's going on?” he asked again.

Cole told him he knew about Haylee having another guy and he knew how tough it could be when someone found out something like that. He spoke like he'd had the same talk with someone before. Every time Parker said he was OK, Cole came back with a quick question. He actually even asked Parker if he felt like committing suicide. Parker raked his hands through his hair, and left them stacked on the top of his head for several seconds.

He didn't lie about it; he answered straight up. “I've thought about it. I don't know what I was thinking going down there. I don't know what I thought I'd find.” He shook his head, and clenched his jaw. I felt guilty.

“How would you do it?” Cole asked.

“What?”