Over the Fence: Lyssa Layne's Baseball Romances (49 page)

I quickly pull on a t-shirt and a pair of running shorts. Opening the door, I frown when I see Adam on the other side. Without waiting for me to invite him in, he steps inside, brushing his lips over my cheeks and taking a seat on the couch.

“Come on in,” I mutter, hating how he acts like he still lives here too, but at least he’s knocking rather than barging in. It only took three years to train him on that.

He pats the brown cushion beside him. “Sit down, Laur, we need to talk.”

My stomach clenches and as much as I hate being bossed around by him, I do as he requests. His words from yesterday have been gnawing at my brain, but I pushed them aside, figuring it was nothing big. Judging from his tone though, I should probably brace myself. I hug my knees to my chest as I sit down and nod, ready for him to talk.

Adam draws in a breath, looking anxious which only makes me more tense. Adam Darbis doesn’t do nervous, not when he knocked me up at seventeen or when I caught him getting a blowjob from his secretary, so this has to be serious.

“Spit it out, Adam.” This can’t be that bad, I try to tell myself. He’s already broken my heart, he can’t hurt me anymore.

He nods and takes my hand before looking me in the eyes. “Bianca and I are getting married.”

His hands tighten around mine and I laugh, trying to pull them away. “You really think you can commit to one woman? And her?” I shake my head at the ridiculousness of the idea. Adam Darbis can’t keep his dick in his pants if his zipper was glued shut. Bianca, the secretary who saved my life when I caught her with her lips around my husband’s cock, has been stupid enough to stay with him despite his infidelities.

Adam doesn’t let go of me though, he laces our fingers together and starts again. “I’m getting transferred to New York this fall.”

My laughter disappears and my stomach drops. I was wrong, Adam can hurt me so much more than when he tore my heart out of my chest. If I lose Grey, I lose everything.

CHAPTER 5

Jace

The crack of the bat keeps my attention as my former teammates run through batting practice before their game. Chuck hooked me up with tickets for the game today and luckily, the hardware shop is closed on Sunday so I decided to stick around. My ball cap is pulled low over my eyes to try to blend in with the crowd and I no longer wear the flashy earrings or trademark beard I once did. Since I stopped lifting weights, my physique isn’t as muscular as it was when I was playing and now I only do long-distance running since I can’t afford a gym membership. Hopefully between the two, no one will recognize me, especially not any of the players.

The last game I played with them was the last time any of us spoke. Not a single one of my teammates called to check on me. Surprisingly, aside from Camila, who as my agent was required to follow up on my illegal gambling and throwing games, the only other person from MLB to call me was Grant Adamson. I always wanted to hate the guy. I always told myself I was a better man than him, but the truth is that I will never be half the man he is. During all the trials and hearings, the only positive point was knowing that Colie had Grant taking care of her and she was happy.

A hand clamps down on my shoulder, giving it a tight squeeze. My nerves jump and I look up to see Coach grinning down at me. He lets out a deep belly laugh that catches the attention of the fans around us. My cheeks burn bright red and I keep my head down until he takes a seat beside me.

“You hiding from something?” Coach asks, keeping his eyes on the dugout, ten rows in front of us.

My eyes dart from side to side and I shrug. “Wouldn’t say I’m hiding, just trying not to draw attention to myself.”

Coach nods as he leans back in his seat. “I gotcha. Well, thanks for the tickets. I haven’t been to spring training since my kids were young.”

“No problem. Thanks for coming. I’m sure Camila would rest easier knowing you were here to babysit me.”

Coach starts his deep laugh again and then catches himself, dulling the noise. “So far you’re easy to babysit.” He nods toward the dugout. “Those two are the tough ones, I swear they don’t ever stop moving.”

I squint my eyes, recognizing the two young boys he’s talking about. “Are they on the team I’m coaching?”

Coach nods and draws in his bottom lip, creating a shrill noise and the boys turn around. “Yep, hope you don’t mind I brought my grandson and his friend. I figured they’d both enjoy the game.”

The kids run back to us and now that they’re closer, I recognize them both although I only remember one of their names. Grey is the kid with a wicked fastball and reminds me of myself growing up. The other kid is horrible at baseball but he tries his best, which is more than I can say about some of the other kids on the team. I assumed Hot Shot was Grey’s mom, but now I’m thinking this boy must be her’s the way she stormed the field when I told him to pay attention because he was talking to the catcher instead of watching the ball being pitched.

“Hey, Jace!” Both boys yell, their faces lighting up at the sight of me, which makes me feel bad. I’m definitely no one to be excited over seeing and I couldn’t be farther from a role model for either of them. Glancing around to see if anyone heard them, I nod and hold out my hand. Both of them eagerly slap me a high five and the never ending questions begin.

“What are you doing here?”

“Did you pitch in this stadium?”

“What time does the game start?”

“Do you think we can get Woody’s autograph?”

Coach laughs and digs in his polyester pocket. “Boys, give your coach a break. It was nice of him to invite us here. Now, why don’t you go grab some nachos and the game will be starting by the time you get back.”

As the kids run off, I relax now that they can’t give away my identity. “Which one is your grandkid?”

Coach shoves his wallet back in his tight pocket. “Grey.”

I spin my head toward him, my jaw dropped. “Grey’s your grandson? So Hot Shot’s your daughter?”

He looks up and laughs. “Hot Shot? If you mean Laurel Darbis, yes, she’s my daughter.”

I shake my head, slightly embarrassed at calling her Hot Shot out loud. “Sorry, we had a little tiff at practice yesterday. I…I just would’ve never guessed that Hot—I mean, Laurel was your daughter or Grey’s mom.”

“Yeah, poor kid looks just like his asshole daddy, but luckily, he’s got Laurel’s personality and kindness.”

I scoff at his words. “Kindness? Sorry to tell you this, Coach, but your daughter seems pretty cold hearted. She’s the only parent on the team, besides that kid with Grey, that hasn’t introduced herself.”

“Sam. The other kid is Sam. His daddy’s long gone and his momma is on her deathbed. They’ve got no other family so between Laurel and her friend, Ashley, they take care of Sam. I just worry about what will happen to him when his momma passes.”

My cheeks flush and I feel like an ass for my assumption that Laurel is a heartless bitch. Coach pats my leg. “Laurel’s one tough cookie to break. She pushes people, especially men, away ever since Grey’s daddy left her so don’t take it personal.”

Ah, so she’s a single mom with a broken heart, that makes much more sense. The old me would jump on that in a heartbeat, accept the challenge, but the new me wants no part in playing with someone’s emotions. The metal steps thunder as the two boys race each other to the seats. Coach stands up and lets them slide in between us.

Grey takes a seat by me and holds up his nachos. “Want one?” His mouth is full of tortilla and cheesy goodness.

“Nah,” I answer, shaking my head and leaning back as the game starts. Surprisingly, the boys are silent as the games goes on, only asking a few questions here and there. After the third inning, Grey looks up at me, his nachos now gone.

“What was it like to play in front of all these people? Were you ever nervous?”

A rookie leans over the mound, watching the catcher for signals and he shakes them off. He’s stalling, he’s got nothing left in the tank, but he’s not ready to give it up. This is his chance to show the team what he’s got, prove that he can do something for them, and get called up to play on the active roster. I know all too well what he’s going through.

“Hell yeah I was nervous.” I pause after the words slip out, realizing I should be more careful of my word choice. “This crowd is nothing, imagine forty thousand people staring at you, waiting for you to move the game along. I won’t lie, it’s intense.”

“So what’d you do to calm your nerves?” Grey looks at me with big eyes.

I shrug. “I gave a hundred and ten percent. You can’t worry about anyone else, Grey, you just have to focus on what you can do.” Unfortunately, I was all too good at focusing on me, which is how I got in so much trouble. I nudge him with my elbow. “You could do it. You know that?”

His eyes go even wider. “Seriously? You think I could pitch in the big leagues one day?”

“You’ve got one helluva—I mean you’ve got a good arm.” Grey giggles and Sam does too since he’s tuned in to our conversation. I raise my chin at Sam. “Both of you, remember this, the only person who can ever hold you back is yourself.” If only someone had told me that when I was their age, things would be so different now.

Coach looks at me, catching the end of our conversation and winking at me in approval. I smile, shocked that I care so much what this old gym teacher thinks about me, but then again, it’s been awhile since I’ve had support when it comes to baseball. There’s a seriousness hanging in the air between us and I nod at the field.

“Did you know Allen wears the same pair of socks all during spring training?” I point to the outfielder who is kicking the grass, growing impatient at waiting on the rookie pitcher.

Both boys scrunch up their noses. “Ew, that’s so gross! Don’t they stink?” Sam asks.

I laugh, recalling the stench that hung around the locker room. “He—heck yeah it stunk!” I point to another player. “He won’t eat bananas on game day. The last time he did, he had six errors in one game, including throwing a ball into the stands instead of first base.”

The boys giggle and beg for more stories. Before we know it, nine innings have passed and I’ve shared all my former teammates’ superstitions with them. Gathering all the souvenirs they bought, the four of us head out to the parking lot. Coach stops and nods toward another exit.

“Oh look, there’s Earl Floyd,” he says and starts to wave in his direction.

I grab his hand, pushing it down while I stare at the tall, lanky man. He’s balding with big eyes, making him look like a fly instead of the leech that he is. Shaking my head, I ask Coach, “How do you know him?”

Coach looks at me confused as I let go of his arm. “He’s a scout that comes to our school all the time, signed a couple players over the years.”

Anger pelts through my body and I clench my fists. “Keep your students as far away from him as possible. He’s nothing but bad news.” It might be too late to save me from Earl Floyd, but I’ll do whatever I can to save someone else’s career.

Laurel

Adam left an hour ago and I’m still shook up from the bomb he just dropped on me. We didn’t discuss anything further, I told him I needed time to process the news. Adam’s always wanted to get out of this podunk town we grew up in but as luck would have it, the pull out method and it’s high failure rate sealed our fate while we were still in high school. Before I was pregnant, I was ready to conquer the world with Adam and I would’ve been the one hitting the gas pedal as we peeled out of town on our graduation day. Then this amazing, little bundle of life was placed in my arms after twenty hours of labor and there was no way I could leave this town or the support of the people in it.

Right after the divorce, I always wondered if Adam and my relationship would’ve had a different fate if we hadn’t had Grey when we did. What if we had left town together? Would he have been happier with me? The thought always came and went because I love being Grey’s mother and I wouldn’t trade anything in the world for it, not even for a happy marriage and lifetime companionship.

An engine rumbles outside and I stop my pacing when I hear it getting closer. A rusty, old Explorer pulls into my driveway. I wait for the SUV to back up and turn around but instead the engine shuts off. Watching carefully, my temper flares when I see Jace Richards climb out of the driver’s side and he pulls back the seat for Sam and Grey to jump out. I fling open the door and the boys run to me with grins on their faces and their arms full of shirts, programs, and foam fingers.

“Look, Miss D! We’re number one!” Sam shouts, lifting his hand inside the oversized foam above his head.

Grey’s right behind him, doing the same thing. “Mom, the game was so awesome! I’m not washing my socks all season!”

“Hey!” Jace laughs. “That’s not what you were supposed to get out of that story.”

I watch the boys run by me as they hoot and holler like boys do. When I turn back to Jace, he’s got his hands shoved in his pockets, shifting his weight from one foot to the other, and looking like a kid about to get in trouble. It’s a softer, gentler side to Jace Richards that I haven’t seen before. His day old scruff mixed with the strong masculine cologne has my hormones stirring.