Between the Seams (7 page)

Chapter Eight

“What do you mean, you want to come home and stay with me?” Chase asked as he paced the length of his brother’s hospital room.

Matt sat in the hospital bed, looking ridiculous with half of his head shaved and the other, well, not shaved. The MRIs and CT scans had shown a skull fracture and internal bleeding from his brain, prompting emergency surgery to relieve the pressure. Thus the half-shaved head.

Now that the danger was past them and it looked like Matt was going to make a full recovery, Chase couldn’t help but laugh every time he saw his brother’s new hairdo. Chase wasn’t laughing right now, though.

“I’m on the DL for an infinite amount of time, Chase, and the doctors have banned me from the ballpark. No bright lights, repetitive motions, loud noises for at least a few weeks. Mom’s worried sick, and Dad’s trying not to act like he is. And to be honest, the thought of going back to my condo by myself right now isn’t very appealing. Figure I might as well come home for a while. That’s what most guys do when they’re put on the DL for an undetermined but way too long time, why would I be any different?”

There were so many reasons why he figured Matt would have been different. Instead of saying that, Chase sighed instead. “So your answer is to just move in with me?”

“Not for long, Chase. Just long enough to set Mom’s mind at ease, and to get back to normal.”

Chase stopped pacing and rested his hands on the rail at the foot of the hospital bed. “Matt, you know as well as I do that getting back to normal might take longer than you want it to. You took a line drive to the head less than two weeks ago. They clocked that thing at a hundred and ten miles per hour.”

Matt shrugged. “I’ll be fine in a few weeks, Chase.”

Chase sighed, realizing that arguing was futile. Resigned, he asked, “What time do you get discharged today?”

Matt grinned, and Chase closed his eyes, wondering what the hell he was getting himself in to.

The great thing about being one of the highest paid players in the majors, Chase discovered later that day, was the ability to charter private flights at the drop of a hat, which had come in handy since their pilot out at the ranch was currently on vacation. As they descended into Del Rio, Chase once again mentally kicked himself for giving in to his brother so easily.

He liked his privacy, needed it, really, and was worried that his brother’s presence would turn his usually quiet, peaceful home into a swinging bachelor pad full of noise and round the clock parties.

“No groupies or parties, Matt,” he said as the plane bumped onto the tarmac.

Matt turned to Chase. “No loud noises, alcohol or repetitive motions, Chase. I think that pretty much nixes groupies and parties.”

“You’d be the one to find a way to get around that.”

Matt laughed, and the plane taxied to a gentle stop. Moments later, the door was opened and stairs were lowered, and they were met by an airport employee driving a golf cart. Chase tossed his wheeled carry-on bag onto the attached luggage trailer, and then grabbed Matt’s suitcase and tossed it next to his bag. They climbed into the golf cart and the driver took off.

Less than thirty minutes later, they were in Chase’s truck and heading towards his house. “Do you want to stop and see Mom and Dad on the way, or hold off?”

Matt stared out the passenger side window as they drove north on Veteran’s Boulevard. “Can we hold off on it?”

As they left the heart of Del Rio, Chase wondered at his brother. He couldn’t quite put his finger on it, but Matt was just
off
. Granted, having a near-death experience would probably make anybody a little
off
.

They made the rest of the drive to his house in silence, Chase not knowing what to say and Matt seeming unwilling to say anything. Chase pulled into the garage, and the brothers got out, retrieved their luggage and walked into the house without saying a word.

Winchester’s muffled bark of greeting finally broke the silence as Chase closed the door behind them. The big Great Pyrenees ambled over, sniffing at legs and hands and crotches, his body wiggling in ecstasy as Chase gave him a brief rub down.

Chase squatted in front of his dog and asked, “Owen didn’t give you too many treats, did he, Big Guy?”

Winchester licked Chase’s chin in response, before changing the focus of his attention and nudging Matt’s hand with his nose, his way of saying, “Pet me now, human.” Chase stood.

Matt complied, scratching him between the ears. “Hey there, Win. Glad to see you still remember me.”

“I’m not sure if he remembers you or if he’s just being an attention whore,” Chase said as he wheeled his carry-on into the living room.

Behind him, Matt wheeled his own suitcase. “I hear Jo’s back in town.”

Chase stopped, one foot on the bottom stair leading up to the second floor and his bedroom, and wondered where the hell that statement had come from. “Yeah. Has been for about a month.”

He started back up the stairs.

Matt was right behind him.

“You seen her at all?”

Chase continued up the stairs. “A couple of times.”

“And..?”

“And what?” Chase reached the top of the stairs and turned towards his bedroom. “Take either of the guest rooms, your choice,” he said, hoping to escape without more of his brother’s weird, sudden prying.

Matt turned in the opposite direction and headed towards one of the spare rooms. “You’ve loved her since she was in pigtails, Chase, and then she broke your heart. Was just wondering how being around her again was going, that’s all.”

Chase wasn’t sure which part of Matt’s statement shocked him more—the fact that Matt knew he’d loved Jo, the fact that he knew Jo had broken his heart, or his sudden interest in having a heart to heart. “Man, that ball really did fuck you up.”

Matt shook his head, opened the door of his chosen room and rolled his suitcase in. “We don’t get many chances at happiness, little brother.”

“Okay, Yoda.”

Matt turned around, his hazel eyes shuttered. But they were brothers, and even though they’d had a bit of a strained, competitive relationship their entire lives, they
knew
each other, in a way that only brothers could.

“I know I haven’t always been the best brother, or hell, even the best son to Mom and Dad, but that doesn’t mean I don’t care.” He raked a hand through his hair. The unshaven side. Looked away, at something to the side. “Baseball is all I have, Chase. But you’ve always had…more, always wanted more.”

“You could have more than baseball, Matt. You’ve just chosen to live life between the seams.”

Matt swung his gaze back around, making eye contact and not letting go. “You have been, too. Your seams might be bigger than mine, maybe a little different, but you have, too. You may not play anymore, but you’re still a pitcher. You’ll always be a pitcher. And we’re control freaks. We don’t like losing control, because when we do shit happens.”

“It’s been a long day, Matt. I’m going to bed.” Chase turned and opened his bedroom door, refusing to let Matt see that his words had bothered him at all.

Between the seams. Ha! What did Matt think he was? Some sort of baseball philosopher all of a sudden? Augie Garrido—the Longhorns’ head coach who was known for his deep thoughts on baseball and life— he was not.

Chase left his carry-on at the foot of the bed before walking over to his dresser and turning on his iPod. He hit shuffle and Aaron Watson’s “3
rd
Gear and 17” filtered through the surround sound speakers. At the sound of the tune about high school sweethearts going their separate ways and his dreams of playing pro ball coming to an end, Chase shook his head.

When the hell had his life turned into a fucking country song?

He’d just finished unpacking when the phone in his pocket vibrated.

Mom.

“Hey Mama.”

“Did y’all make it home okay?”

Chase grinned. “Nice to hear from you, too.”

Sarah huffed on the other end of the line. “Don’t you give me a hard time, Chase Roberts. I just wanted to make sure y’all got home okay.”

“Yeah, we did. About fifteen minutes ago.”

Sarah paused on the other end of the line, and Chase sighed. “He’s doing okay, Mom. No dizziness or anything like that.”

Sarah’s sigh of relief was so loud Chase almost thought she was beside him for a moment, rather than on the other side of town. “Good. Now how are
you
doing?”

Chase ran a hand over his face and sat down on the edge of his bed. “I’m fine. Tired. Missing my privacy already.”

Sarah scoffed at that. “You’ll live. Now, when were you going to tell me that Jo’s back in town?”

“I, uh, didn’t really realize it was all that important, Mom.” Were there no secrets in this freaking town?

“Oh, honey, of course it is. That girl got the wrong end of a bad deal with the way her parents acted, not to mention she broke my baby boy’s heart.”

Chase sighed. Had his feelings been that transparent? “Mom, I really don’t know why everyone thinks she broke my heart.”

“Because she did. It was plain as daylight, Chase, how much you loved that girl.”

“Mom, I was fifteen. Does anyone really know what love is at that age?”

Sarah’s tone gentled. “Oh, honey, of course they do. It may be different at fifteen than it is at twenty-five or thirty or sixty, but love is love.”

Chase ran his fingers through his hair and bit back a sigh. “Fair enough. Yes, Jo’s back in town. Yes, we’ve seen each other. No, there’s nothing going on.”

Well, okay, maybe that last part wasn’t completely true. But his mom didn’t need to know every little detail about his love life.

Or lack thereof.

Frustrating lack thereof.

“That’s not what Dorothy Johnson told me.”

“Dorothy Johnson?” She was a long-time friend of his mom’s and known as a bit of a gossip. “Why would Dorothy tell you something was going on between Jo and me?”

“She saw y’all at Wings and Rings the day Matt got hurt. Said y’all looked pretty cozy right up until Matt got hurt, and that she held your hand ‘til you left.”

Good God, there wasn’t anything sacred in this town. Absolutely nothing.

“Mom, I’m not sure what Dorothy thinks she saw. But yes, we were holding hands. I was worried about Matt and she was comforting me. She’s a high school guidance counselor for crying out loud—that’s what she does.”
Keep telling yourself that
, his conscience whispered.

“You should bring her to supper some time. Your dad and I would love to see her again. It’s been years.”

Chase was pretty sure the thought of sitting down to a family meal with his parents would make Jo fairly uncomfortable. Then again, it could also help Jo—and to be honest, himself—to move on from the past. To appease his mom he said, “I’ll ask her and see what she says. But she’s pretty busy taking care of her grandma.”

“Just promise me you’ll ask her, honey.”

“Sure, Mom. I promise.”

After he and Sarah said their goodbyes and Chase had hung up his phone, he stared at the wall for long moments. What was it George Bernard Shaw had said? If you couldn’t get rid of the skeletons in the family closet, you might as well make them dance? Problem was, he didn’t think Jo was up for making any of her skeletons dance.

~~*~~

Chapter Nine

“Such a shame, what happened to that Roberts boy.” Gran shook her head as the current game’s producer decided to once again replay the line drive that had hit Matt in the head almost two weeks ago.

Jo stood up, gathered her and Gran’s plates off of their TV trays, and took them into the kitchen. Every time they showed it, she saw Chase’s face, heard his muttered pleading with his brother to get up off the mound. She’d never seen him so scared, not even as a kid and he’d had to go through yet another surgery, and witnessing his emotions that evening had shaken her.

She hadn’t known what to say then.

She didn’t know what to say now.

Not that she’d had an opportunity to say anything. He’d left the restaurant that night and she hadn’t heard from him since. Logically, she understood—they hadn’t even exchanged phone numbers or email addresses. Weren’t friends on Facebook, didn’t follow each other on Twitter, weren’t connected on LinkedIn.

The only things they’d exchanged were heated kisses and old emotions.

Nothing to see here. Moving right along.

She slammed a plate into the dishwasher with a little more force than necessary, and forced herself to take a mental step back.

His brother had just had a near-death experience from what little she’d been able to gather from Jenn, who
had
talked to Chase.

He could call Jenn, but not the woman he’d been flirting with just seconds before things went to shit?

Jo felt the sharp edges of jealousy clawing at her gut and slammed the dishwasher door closed.

Fuck.

She needed to get out of this house.

“Gran, I’m gonna go for a run. I’ll be back in a little while,” she yelled from the kitchen before heading to her bedroom to change into workout clothes.

Yes, a run sounded good. Not as gratifying as deadlifts or back squats, but maybe it would help improve her mood, if not relieve some of the tension she’d been feeling.

Once she’d changed into her running clothes, she strapped her Bulldog fanny pack to her waist, grabbed her STI Elektra off the nightstand, did a quick press check, and fastened it with the Velcro loops on the inside of the pack. She dropped an extra magazine into a different zippered pouch, along with her driver’s license and concealed handgun license. Her phone went in the front pocket, along with some earbuds just in case she decided she needed music.

Out on the sidewalk, Jo looked around, taking note of her surroundings while going through a series of warm-up stretches. She then set off at an easy pace, allowing her body to get into a rhythm before pushing herself a little more.

It grated that she was jealous of Jenn. She knew she had no reason to be, really had no right to be jealous. But it was there, simmering under the surface. It irritated her that for all these years, Jenn had been right there, such a big part of Chase’s life.

Never mind the fact that Jo had been the one to throw it all away. Cutting off ties with Chase had been her choice and no one else’s.

Not for the first time in the past eighteen years she wished she hadn’t made that decision.

It was easy—too easy—to imagine how their lives might have been different had she not thrown their friendship away. Somewhere, in the part of her heart that wanted marriage and babies and a dog, there was a picture of the two of them together, a baby on one hip and a toddler chasing that imaginary dog around the backyard. The kids had his hair and smile. Her eyes. The toddler—a boy—was already showing signs of being the best pitcher the world had ever seen. And the baby? Well, she adored her daddy.

Despite the fact that Jo had ended their friendship right at that age when girls started thinking about those happily ever afters with specific boys in mind, and despite the fact that she’d never truly acknowledged her feelings, she’d longed for him. As the years had flown by, she’d longed for him even more. The high school sweetheart love story. The long-distance phone calls and weekend visits while in college. The well-timed marriage proposal right after graduation, and the June wedding a year later.

She didn’t deserve those things, though. Didn’t deserve
him
.

How could she, when she’d so stupidly thrown it all away?

He’d been her best friend, and she his. And she’d thrown it away out of fear and confusion and disgust with her mother and a sense that doing so was the only way to protect him and his family.

Jo ran, her legs and arms pumping hard and fast, until she was sprinting down the sidewalk, yards and cars and people and children’s toys a blur. Her thoughts pushed, crowding in and shouting so loud they were drowning each other out.

Why the fuck hadn’t he called?

~~*~~

7:23.

The numbers stared back at Chase, and he vaguely registered the time.

He’d been at work since just before six that morning, needing to get back to the office and real life. Matt had been in his home less than twenty-four hours and Chase was already wanting to climb the walls or punch something.

Matt’s Yoda routine last night, along with just
being
there, had set him on edge. Chase liked his space, needed his privacy. In a town of roughly 36,000 people, he often straddled the line between public and private. On one hand, Del Rio was just big enough to afford some modicum of anonymity. On the other, it was just small enough that everyone knew who he was, even if they didn’t actually know him.

Thus, the need for a safe haven.

He read over his emails again. A local reporter had reached out to him regarding the uptick in commercial real estate sales and construction the area was currently experiencing. He suspected the reporter probably wanted the scoop on Matt more.

For such a private guy, he sometimes wondered how his name ended up in the news so often. Then he would remember that he’d inadvertently caused that to happen. As the city’s top commercial real estate broker—not to mention his relation to Matt—it wasn’t a huge shocker that people would reach out to him or that his name would appear in newsprint. He was well-respected by town leaders and local businessmen, sponsored the local Little League teams and held a pitching clinic in the fall.

Living life between the seams? Ha! Whatever the fuck that meant.

He decided a response could wait until tomorrow, and shut down his computer. Knowing he probably needed to leave the office but not yet willing to go back home and hang out with his brother and endure yet another Yoda routine, Chase debated calling Owen or Jenn to meet up for a quick beer.

He’d pulled up Owen’s number and was in the process of texting him when he realized it was Friday night. Odds were Owen had a date and Jenn was probably doing…something. Knitting or reading or making lesson plans, since Chase couldn’t remember the last time Jenn had gone on a date. Now there was someone who lived life between the seams, or whatever you wanted to call it. Jenn spent her Friday nights knitting.

Knitting!

Whereas he spent his…hanging out with a dude in a bar, having one beer and then going home and spending the rest of the time with his damned dog.

Screw Matt and his sudden I-care-about-you routine.

Feeling adrift, he set the alarm and locked up, climbed into his truck, started it and stared at the front of the office building. Without really thinking about it, Chase threw the truck into motion.

Thirty minutes later, lost in a fog of exhaustion and frustration, he realized he’d inadvertently driven to Nellie Westwood’s neighborhood. He shook his head and groaned. What the hell was he doing to himself?

He slowed as he passed Nellie’s house, debated stopping and ringing the doorbell. He hadn’t seen or talked to Jo since the night of Matt’s injury. Oh, he’d thought about her, probably far more than any man sitting by his brother in ICU should have, but he hadn’t spoken to her.

Not having her phone number had helped with that, he thought wryly. Then again, it wasn’t like he couldn’t have gotten it from Jenn.

Instead of stopping, though, he continued down the street, feeling slightly angry at the clawing need that hadn’t gone away ever since he’d run into her that night at Walmart. Had that really been almost a month ago? In some ways, it seemed like years, and in others like it had been yesterday.

Chase continued to drive slowly down the street, watching for children and toys as the late evening sun cast deceptive shadows over the neighborhood. He turned a corner, and another, circling back while deliberately avoiding Nellie’s, houses now on his left and a small park on his right.

That’s when he saw her, standing on the edge of the grass, just inside the park, bent at the waist, her body shaking as if she couldn’t get enough air.

He veered to the curb, slammed the truck into PARK before killing the engine, grabbing the keys and exiting the truck as if it were on fire. He ran the ten yards to her, worried and scared at the way her lungs were heaving.

He reached her in seconds, placed a reassuring hand on her upper arm, and was greeted by having his hand ripped of her arm and a kick to the shin.

“Get your hands off of me!” Jo yelled as she stood up, and Chase realized that her right hand was going for the fanny pack at her waist.

Having no desire to find himself at the wrong end of what he suspected was in that fanny pack, he calmly said, “Jo! Jo! It’s me, Chase!”

She stopped, hand poised over the black pouch, blinked her eyes and sunk to the ground, her legs crossed Indian-style. Her forehead smacked into her hands as she continued to cry.

Gingerly now, clueless and just a little scared, Chase crouched down beside her. Jo had always been pretty even-tempered as a kid, so the few times he’d been around her when she’d been upset he’d been completely clueless as to how to make her feel better. Funny how in that regard things really hadn’t changed—he still had no clue what to do to make her feel better.

But he wanted to try.

~~*~~

Jo tried desperately to get her breathing under control and to make the tears stop as she sat there on the ground, Chase mere inches away from her.

Why wouldn’t they stop?

No matter how many deep breaths she took, the shaky feeling in her insides wouldn’t go away, and the tears wouldn’t stop flowing.

She’d almost shot him.

Rationally, she realized that she hadn’t known it was him when she’d felt a man’s hand on her arm. She’d been bent at the waist, trying to calm herself down from the panic attack that had gripped her while she’d been running. She’d been thinking about him and bitching and moaning to herself and
bam!
Panic attack.

Jo hadn’t had one in years, not since after Ray—the one boyfriend she’d actually loved—had broken up with her after finding out he was being shipped off to Afghanistan. Panic—over being alone, over the thought of him being killed—had gripped her and sent her over the edge. Even then, though, it hadn’t felt like this.

And then, to make things even better, she’d almost shot him.

Shot him!

Her body started shaking, and oxygen seemed harder and harder to come by. Numbly, she registered Chase’s hand on her shoulder, then smoothing her hair. And then she was in his lap and his arms were around her and he was saying something to her in a really soft voice. She couldn’t understand it, but it sounded nice and comforting.

Air.

Slowly, but surely, she found air.

Jo wasn’t sure how long she sat there in his lap, vaguely realized anyone could be staring at them and the odd tableau they made. Stupidly, because she felt something needed to be said, she said the first thing that popped out of her mouth: “Why haven’t you called me?”

She felt his muscles tense slightly before relaxing again, and felt stupid and childish and selfish for even asking such a thing.

“I’m sorry, Chase. I shouldn’t have asked you that. You’ve been dealing with your brother, I know. Jenn’s mentioned it. I’ve just been…”

Worried, she’d been worried, dammit.

“So you almost shot me because I hadn’t called you?”

She heard the teasing tone of his voice, but couldn’t keep her body from tensing.
She’d almost shot him.

“Oh, God, Chase. I almost shot you!”

“It’s not your fault, Jo. I should have said something rather than just grabbing your arm. I know better.”

She shook her head, knowing that he was right, but still feeling panicky over the entire situation. “I should have known it was you.”

“How, Jo?”

Her hands fluttered at her sides, as if searching for answers. “I don’t know. I just should have.”

“You and I both know that’s a load of bullshit. I approached you without warning, without saying anything and grabbed your arm. You were protecting yourself.” He paused. “If anything, we need to work on your fighting moves and your draw time. Had I been a real threat I could have taken you out before you’d even been able to think about grabbing your gun.”

She shook her head, but felt some of the tension drain from her body. “I still can’t believe that just happened.”

“What
did
just happen?”

“Other than me almost shooting you? Oh, just a mild panic attack.” The pitch of her voice raised on the last two words, making her sound and feel almost hysterical again.

Jo closed her eyes and breathed deeply through her nose.

In.

Out.

She seemed to do a lot of deep breathing exercises around him.

“I think a bench might be more comfortable, what about you?” Chase asked.

Jo took another deep breath and nodded. “Probably.”

They got up and found a bench that afforded them some relative privacy, sitting in silence for long moments as Jo got her breathing under control.

“I didn’t call because we hadn’t gotten around to exchanging phone numbers.” He sighed as they both looked straight ahead, as far apart from each other on the bench as they could get. She saw his Adam’s apple bob out of the corner of her eye. “We’re…are we even at the part where we exchange numbers? Is that what this is? Is that what we’re doing?”

She considered his words for a moment before answering. “I’m not sure what we’re doing, Chase. I hadn’t planned on any of this happening. Honestly, when Gran asked me to stay with her over the summer I was scared to death of seeing you but figured it was bound to happen. I hadn’t really allowed myself to think about it beyond that.”