Anything but Minor (32 page)

The man I loved was the sports equivalent of Elvis.

And I was his faithful Priscilla.

I’d watched the miniseries “Elvis and Me” countless times when I was a girl. Priscilla, naïve and young, had been swept into a whirlwind affair with a larger than life megastar and had been abandoned for long periods with only rumors and mortifying articles to douse her hopes.

Rafe and I had FaceTime, daily texts and calls, and only a few stolen days a month to hold on to. We were sustaining, but my fingers where white knuckling the ledge. He’d never once made me doubt his love for me, but it was the distance that kept my heart in painful shackles.

As selfish as it was, and as happy as I tried to be for Rafe, I wanted our minor league life back. His publicist had all but sabotaged our free time together and seemed to hate me. She played heavily on his single, hotshot reputation that had made him sought after by the press. Everyone wanted a piece of Rafe, and I was the lucky woman who held his heart.

But for how long?

I’d grown close to Andy as we passed the time and attempted to grow used to loving Rafe from afar. Andy was actually doing better in the moving on department than I was and had gone on a few dates. He was open with me about his love for Kristina but came clean in that it was mostly infatuation. I
was
in love, dateless, and completely hell bent on waiting it out for Rafe. I played my part of the supportive girlfriend with endless patience and pretended often to be satisfied with whatever stolen moments we had. I was sure the more time that passed, I would grow used to it, but instead, it began chipping away at me and my resolve.

In the end, Elvis had come for Priscilla. And though I wanted no resemblance of their dysfunctional relationship, I couldn’t help the question that was driving me insane.

Where the hell was my Elvis?!

I hadn’t told Rafe about my decision concerning my job and was beyond thrilled that when the season ended we would have months together, but this season’s end was still weeks away, and I was officially becoming a closeted stage-five clinger.

I couldn’t understand why he was okay with the distance, with the amount of time we were away from each other. I could physically see his ache at times but never pressed for anything more than what he gave.

We spoke of the holidays and made plans to have a white Christmas in Denver. It was all that kept me hanging on at that point. When he wasn’t in contact, he seemed light years away. Even while I’d visited him and attended the games, it was so much of a whirlwind being a part of his new world I’d felt slightly uncomfortable. We’d built our relationship in Charleston. It felt safe in Charleston. Our world seemed scattered now. I knew in my heart I had to be patient, to give him time to adjust to his lifelong dream turned reality, and if I had to, I knew I would wait forever. But it didn’t stop me from being selfish in my longing.

What ate at me the most, and what I was sure Rafe didn’t realize, was that I’d waited on him far longer than the months he’d been gone, and way before the moment we’d met.

I spent the afternoon in the mid-September sun staring at the waves as I tried to pour an ice bucket on my pity party. With my career move, I was stuck in an indecisive whirlpool where my options were limited. I would have to find a job that I loved. I would have to strengthen my relationship with Rafe when the season ended to the point where I would feel comfortable with the wait. I would find a way to have my Elvis.

I had no other choice.

He was at an away game. I could surprise him and make myself available, which I’d indirectly done by ending my contract at Boeing. But then what? With Rafe, nothing seemed permanent, and I would never press him for anything different, no matter how desperate I was to have him more present in my life.

“Rafe,” I whispered as I watched a lonely wave roll in.

I reached for my cell and smiled at a text I’d gotten over an hour ago.

Rafe: I’m in pre-game and I can’t stop thinking about my dusty apartment.

My fingers hovered over the keys as I thought of a sly retort, but my heavy, aching heart refused to cooperate. For once, I decided to break the promise to myself to remain strong. In a moment of weakness, I sent him a link to a song that let him know exactly how I felt, a plea from my heart to his.

Alice:
Without You, Eddie Vedder
(https://youtu.be/r_AHWi7HR5g).

“Our boy is kicking ass!” Andy said animatedly as I opened my mailbox and pulled out a package.

“I saw,” I said with less enthusiasm as I’d hoped.

“Doll, he’ll be back in a few weeks.”

“I know,” I said distractedly as I studied the package with curiosity. I propped it on my hip as I took the stairs up to my condo. “But then what? More months together and then how many more alone?” Andy remained quiet as I once again cursed my dwindling resolve. “I’m tired, Andy. I just...this isn’t how I thought it would be. I mean, I was hoping to see him a little more, you know. I didn’t think I would feel like an army wife. He’s just so wrapped up in the season. I feel like he’s circling the world and I’m sitting here idle.”

“He is and you are.”

“Well, it SUCKS!”

Andy chuckled. “He loves you.”

“He tells me every day. I just...miss him.”

“Hang in there, doll.”

“Andy,” I whispered tearfully as I set the package on the counter, “please tell me this gets better.”

“Come see me at the bar tonight,” he said with obvious concern in his voice.

“I’m not up to it,” I said as I opened the box and pulled out the t-shirt. I smiled as I studied it. It was a woman’s cut, V-neck tee with Rafe’s team logo. I turned it over and saw Rafe’s number on the back, and above it in bold letters, “Rafe’s Pussy”.

I burst into laughter as I gripped the shirt to my chest.

“That sounded good,” Andy said with a smile in his voice.

“Present from Rafe,” I said as I sighed into the phone. “He’s such a bonehead.”

“A bonehead that loves you. Don’t forget that. Talk soon, doll.”

“Thanks, Andy.”

I wasn’t surprised by the knock on the door at 1 A.M. I assumed it was April. We’d been spending a lot of time together since we’d both ended up at the complex pool on a lazy Sunday. April was easygoing and had a knack for making me laugh with a brand of observant humor. I always thought of Andy when she was around and even tried to play cupid once by suggesting she come with me to the bar to meet him. She had insisted she was in no shape to date after her last disastrous love affair with a paramedic. I loved her company, and she made Kristina’s absence more bearable. She was a 911 operator for the city of Charleston and worked odd hours, but knew today was my last day at Boeing. I figured she’d probably come over with a bottle of something strong and details of a juicy call from her day to distract me from my ever-present, uncertain future. I opened the door in my Rafe’s Pussy t-shirt and boy shorts with a smile on my face. Standing in front of me was a disheveled and ridiculously sexy baseball player in full uniform. My chest quickly burst as I took a step forward, ready to tackle him, but he stopped me as he held up his hand.

“Turn around.”

I froze as Rafe towered over me. I was in complete shock and couldn’t believe he was standing in front of me. It was if I willed the moment into existence.

“Rafe,” I said as my body vibrated with excitement.

“Alice Boyd, I just pitched a game, skipped a shower, and flew for five hours to see you in this t-shirt. Turn around.”

He circled his pointer finger in the air as I smiled and slowly obliged.

“I could have sent you a picture,” I teased as I came full circle with a smile on my lips.

Jesus, he looked good in that uniform. Hazel eyes studied me, and I saw the ache outlining his features. He let it show without apology or excuse. My eyes immediately filled with relief and the same need. My heart seized as he blew out a breath of frustration, his features filled with pain.

“I’m tired of pictures,” he said in a raw and heated whisper as he threw his tote through the doorway. “I’m tired of fucking texts and voicemails,” he gritted out as he picked me up underneath my arms. I wrapped my legs around his waist as he kicked the door closed behind him. He walked me to my counter and sat me there. “I’m tired of waking up and wishing you were there. Every. Single. Day,” he whispered as he stood between my thighs and covered them with warm hands. “I’m tired of the space,” he said as he leaned in closer, and I saw his eyes swell with emotion. “No more space. I can’t take it anymore. I miss you too much. I love you, Alice.”

I barely stifled a sob as I gripped him to me. “Thank God,” I rasped out as I looked up to him, an utter mess. “I don’t want to be without you anymore. I can’t do it either, Rafe. It hurts too much.”

“Oh, baby. I’m sorry,” he said as he claimed my mouth possessively, and I let the pain radiate through me, uncaring if he saw, unable to hold back. I needed him to know. I’d never been anything but honest with him, and I’d only begun to lie when I thought he needed me to. “I miss you so much, too much. I’m totally lost here now. I can’t go back to alone.”

“I’m here,” he said as he kissed my forehead, my eyelids, my cheeks, nose, and then placed a gentle kiss on my lips. “Being away is fucking tearing me apart. I can’t pretend anymore that I’m not ruined when I can’t see your face, can’t touch you. I want you with me. This shit we’re doing, it’s not enough anymore.”

“I wasn’t truthful. I’m not happy. I can’t handle it. I hate it.” I let out another anguished cry as he pulled me tightly to him. His mouth crushed mine as our tongues thrashed in need. Nothing else mattered as we pulled each other close, our clothes a nuisance. Minutes of touches and kisses led to a more urgent need of skin on skin.

“You walked Wheaten today,” I scorned as I pulled his shirt out of his pants and began to tug at his waistband. Nipping his neck, I pulled out his length and began to stroke it. His eyes closed briefly and opened with fire as he leaned in and kissed me until I was desperate.

“Shut up,” he muttered with a smirk as he pulled away and I began to discard my shirt. “Fuck no. That stays,” he ordered as he tugged my boy shorts down my thighs and threw them over his shoulders. “Spread for me.” He pushed my knees apart as I leaned back and moaned. Slick and ready, I looked up to Rafe as he watched me twist beneath him. I stared up at him expectantly as he licked his thumb and began to massage me with it.

“Ah,” I moaned as he stared down at me, blazed a trail over my face, and then moved his gaze down between my thighs. I followed his eyes as he stroked me reverently. “We both missed you,” he said with a smug smirk as his thickness twitched in agreement. I huffed out a curt laugh, too entranced with the workings of his thumb. I gasped out his name repetitively along with several other words of love and devotion as he worshiped me with eyes and fingers. I chanted his name as he gripped my hips and pulled me onto him, inch by intoxicating inch, and then thrust in fully as he stole my breath. I arched my back in welcome and gripped the lips of the countertop behind me as Rafe lost himself and whispered my name. He was a fantasy above me, his hazel eyes lit with lust, his jaw tense as he licked his full lips. I studied his sculpted arms as they held me tightly to him. Dark, beautiful, sexy, and looking dangerous, Rafe rebranded me with every movement, every look, and every word he spoke.

“Rafe,” I moaned as he thrust hard, slowly withdrew, swiveled his hips, and then pressed in deeper. I was seconds from an orgasm as he began to slow his pace.

“No,” I protested in the depths of everything he was giving me. “I need this so much.”

He pulled out and gently flipped me over, my feet barely touching the floor as he thrust in again and gripped the back of my t-shirt with his fist. I came with a shriek as he buried himself deep, and he followed close, groaning out his release. We collapsed bare-assed on the kitchen floor. He pulled me onto his lap and explored my mouth for endless minutes before he pulled back and declared, “No end.”