Catching Hell: A Hot Contemporary Romance (16 page)

She couldn’t say how long she stared at the front door. She couldn’t count the number of hopeless, idiotic ideas that crossed her mind.
 

What if she sat down on his welcome mat and simply refused to move? What if she stood in the front yard and stripped naked beneath the full moon, putting her hands on her hips and waiting for him to drag her inside? What if she drove back to town, found some all-night convenience store that sold cell phones, bought one and called and fooled him into answering?

But none of that would matter. None of that would change anything.

Because now that she was out here, now that he had rebuffed every approach she’d made, now that she was alone, she couldn’t imagine what she and Zach could possibly say to each other. She still had an obligation to her grandfather, a bond that was even stronger because the man lay in a coma. And Zach still stood by his responsibility to himself, his fans, his family.
 

She pulled open her car door and dropped into the driver’s seat. The key turned in the ignition, and the engine flared to life. She kept the lights off as she drove down the long driveway, pretending she couldn’t be crying if no one actually saw the tears on her cheeks.

She had to switch on the headlights, though, when she got to the country road. She dashed her hands across her cheeks and opened her eyes wide, the better to watch for deer in the darkness. By the time she merged onto the freeway to head back to Raleigh, she’d accepted the truth.
 

She’d lost Zach Ormond. And there was nothing she could do to get him back.

* * *

The hardest thing he’d ever done in his life was stay inside the farmhouse. Hearing her knock, listening to her call his name… He’d peeked through the bedroom window when she’d finally given up. He’d watched her slump against the hood of her car. He’d needed to grab onto the doorframe to keep from going to her then, to stop himself from ripping open the door, hurtling down the steps, picking her up, and carrying her to his iron bed.

But he’d been right not to let her in. He couldn’t trade his last bargaining chip. That’s what he’d told himself until the noise of her car engine faded into the night.

Not that he had the first idea of what the hell
else
he was going to do.

Eight years ago, he and Ep had fought for that no-trade clause like it was a contract for a diamond mine. With a guarantee that the team couldn’t palm him off on anyone else, Zach had never needed to worry about his aching knees, his twinging back. He’d play the best game he could, knowing he was safe. Protected. At least until he retired.

Retired. He’d always thought of retirement as some vague, distant future, when he’d be surrounded by a wife and kids, by a happy family living here on the farm he loved.

Well, the future was practically here, and he was screwed. No wife, no kids, and the farm felt more like a prison than the retreat he’d always craved. He was on his own—old and broken down and so goddamn tired he just wanted to collapse on the couch with a bottle of Jack to drink himself past his dreams.

Shit. If he was this tired, he could only imagine how Anna must feel. She was running the team in the old man’s absence. And she must be
living
at the hospital when she wasn’t at the park.

He should be there with her. They’d watched over Tucker together. How could he do less than that now?
 

He picked up his keys and was halfway to the door before he stopped himself. Dammit all to hell. He
couldn’t
help his antagonist in the contract wars.
 

But Anna was more than that. He could do something to help
Anna
.

He took out his phone and winced when he saw half a dozen missed calls from her. He thumbed through his contacts, stopping on one he’d used untold times during his career.
 

“I need to talk to Dr. Miller,” he said to the efficient answering service that picked up on the first ring. “This is Zach Ormond, and it’s an emergency.”

He never played the emergency card on a whim. As a reward, he was talking to Arnold Miller in less than three minutes. “Doc,” he said. “I’m sorry to bother you at home. But I need some names from you, people I can hire tonight. Who are the best private nurses in Raleigh? I need a team to provide full support for a patient at Memorial.”

* * *

Two days later, Anna pulled the thin cotton blanket closer to her grandfather’s neck, taking care as she smoothed the white cloth over his frail chest. Nurse Strondheim had said it might take hours for Gramps to regain consciousness after so many days in a chemically induced haze. That’s why Anna had told the private nurse to take a break, to get an early dinner.
 

Talk to Gramps. That’s what all the nurses had said—the Memorial staff and the ones Zach had hired. From the first day Gramps was admitted, they’d instructed her to tell him what was happening. Speak to him like you would any other day. Anchor him in his daily life, so he’ll have an easier time when he does come out of the coma.

Anna sank into the familiar chair beside the bed. “I wish I had better news about the standings, Gramps. You and I both know teams can be streaky, but this is nuts. Four losses in a row. And they were bad losses too, bad starting pitching, no run support.”

She frowned at herself. This couldn’t be the type of news she was supposed to share. She should be telling Gramps good things, stories that would make him want to wake up, to get out of bed and return to his normal, irascible self.

Well, tough luck. Anna didn’t have any good news right now.

She reached up to adjust a piece of plastic tubing, shifting the connector so it wasn’t pulling against the bed’s metal railing. “I don’t know, Gramps. I thought it made perfect sense to sit Zach down. He’d miss a game, maybe two, and then he’d realize we meant business. Jimmy could work around him—it wouldn’t be much worse than when he took those days off back in April, when his back was strained. But last night’s game was a mess—extra innings, and Zach was the only player left on the bench at the bottom of the thirteenth.”

Anna closed her eyes, reciting all the arguments to herself for the hundredth time. Once Zach was gone, the team could call up a promising young catcher from their minor league team. Once they had Tyler Brock, they would have some pop back in the order; they’d get some of those runs they’d been missing. Once this idiotic contract dispute was resolved, the team could move forward again.

“I’m so sorry, Gramps. I actually thought this might be the year we’d get to the World Series. I thought this was the team.”
 

But some teams just didn’t live up to their potential. Sometimes there was…something, some unidentifiable flaw that kept perfection from slipping into place.

She leaned her head back against her chair. It was easier to make her confession to the ceiling. Easier to avoid looking at the face she knew so well, the care-worn cheeks, the stubborn jaw. “I’m not giving up, Gramps. You raised me better than that. But I’m just telling you, you might have to hold on a bit longer. You might have to wait till next year to see that ring.”

“I’ll…wait.”

The words were sandpaper, etched with acid and rasped over tree bark. But they were
words
, spoken words whispered past chapped lips and beeping monitors and days of despair.

“Gramps!” Anna leaped to her feet. Her grandfather’s eyes were open, his cloudy blue gaze half-obscured by his heavy lids. His throat worked, as if he were trying to swallow, and his lips trembled with the difficulty of saying something else.

Anna leaped for the call button that was looped over the bed’s railing. She pounded on the connection to the nurses’ station, jabbing it three times for extra impact. Even as she thought about running down the hallway to get help, she reached for her grandfather’s hand.

His fingers were brittle twigs, but they closed around hers. His lips twitched into the faintest of smiles. “Next…year,” he said, more mouthing the words than speaking them aloud.

Before Anna could reply, a nurse hurried into the room. “Ah, Mister Benson,” she said in a voice that was just a shade too loud. “It’s good to see you back.” She bustled to the side of the bed, glancing at the readouts for heart rate and respiration. “Do you know where you are?”

“Hospital,” Gramps said. Anna’s heart skipped a beat in her chest. Until that very moment, she hadn’t realized how deeply she’d feared her grandfather would be lost forever, that his mind would be gone, even if his body were somehow spared.
 

“Excellent,” the nurse said. “And who is this lovely lady beside you?”

“Anna-cakes,” Gramps managed. She couldn’t be certain, but she thought he was trying to squeeze her fingers. She smiled down at him, even as his eyelids started to flutter. His hand went slack, but Anna could hear a soft snore as he slipped into sleep.

The nurse checked one of the IVs, tapping at the connector to force a drop of liquid into the tubing. “Very good,” she said, beaming at Anna. “I’ll let the doctor know he was awake.”

“He’s so weak!”

The nurse nodded. “At his age, it’ll take months to build back his strength. But he knew where he was, and he knew you. He’s a fighter, that one. He’ll be driving you crazy in no time.”

Anna smiled down at her grandfather fondly. There was something different about him now—something sturdier, stronger—now that she knew he was only sleeping, no longer snared in the medical coma.

The nurse shifted his pillow. “You might as well head home for tonight. He’ll probably sleep for several hours. We’ll keep an eye on him, and your private nurse can call you with regular updates.”

“Thanks,” Anna said. “I’ll take a break, but I’ll stick around for the night. I don’t want him to wake up confused.”

“Suit yourself,” the nurse said. “But just remember. You need to keep up
your
strength if you’re going to help him. That’s why you brought in the extra help in the first place.”

Anna agreed, because it was easier than explaining that
she
hadn’t brought in the extra help, that the extra help was a peace offering in a battle she’d never wanted to fight. Because she knew that’s what Zach had meant by his thoughtful action.

Even if he wouldn’t answer her phone calls. Even if they were still dug into their trenches over the freaking no-trade clause.

As if to pluck Anna’s guilt strings, Nurse Strondheim chose that moment to return from the cafeteria. Anna and the floor nurse lost no time filling her in on the details. Mrs. Strondheim smiled broadly as she took her seat in the bedside chair.

Anna smoothed the blanket to her own satisfaction before she walked down the hall to the waiting room. Sunshine streamed in the west-facing window, and she was shocked to realize it was only five o’clock. It seemed like it should be the middle of the night, like the entire world should have moved on while Gramps made his astonishing recovery.

She made her first call—to her assistant back at the office. She asked that a sign be put up in the clubhouse, letting everyone know the good news. The players had been wearing teal silicone bracelets all week, reminders of the battle against stroke and related disease. They’d be relieved to know their thoughts and prayers had led to positive results. “Wonderful news,” her assistant said. “Now make sure
you
get some sleep tonight.”

“I will.”

Her second call was to Gregory Small. “He’s back,” she said. “He’s exhausted, and they haven’t done anything close to a full evaluation, but he knew me, and he knew where he was.”

“Thank God,” the general manager said.

“I want to have good news to share with him, Gregory. This thing with Zach has dragged on long enough. If we can’t get Brock, then let’s figure out another solution.”

He sighed. “Let me look at some other scenarios. Maybe there’s something we haven’t considered yet, a team…” She could picture him shaking his shaved head as he trailed off. “Let me look.”

“I’ll see you in my office at ten tomorrow.”

“All right, Anna. Now make sure
you
get some sleep tonight.”

“Ten o’clock,” she said. But she was touched by the general manager’s caring.

Her third call was to Emily. Her best friend had been incredible for the past four days—checking in morning, noon, and night, reminding Anna to eat something,
anything
, always ready with an entertaining story about her senior-citizen clients, listening over and over and over again as Anna tried to find a solution to the situation with Zach.

Emily answered cautiously. “Hey.”

“It’s good news,” Anna said. She filled in her friend, sharing a little of her amazement and relief when she’d seen Gramps’ familiar blue eyes.
 

“Give me half an hour,” Emily said, “and I’ll be over there.”

“Thanks,” Anna said. “But it isn’t necessary. He’s sleeping now, and the private nurse is with him.”

“Let me bring you dinner at least.”

That would be some vegetarian health-food something-or-other. Anna said, “I’ll go down to the cafeteria.”

“Promise?”

“Of course.”

“Double pinky-dare promise? Because I know that tone of voice.”

Anna laughed. “Double pinky-dare promise. I’ll get something to eat.”

“Fine.” Emily still didn’t sound convinced, but she obviously knew better than to argue. “I’ll stop by at lunch tomorrow.”

“Perfect. And hey. Thanks for all your support these past few days.”
Thanks for being here for Gramps
.
Thanks for listening to me babble about Zach.
Anna didn’t elaborate.

“That’s what friends are for,” Emily said. “Now make sure
you
get some sleep tonight.”

“Why does everyone keep saying that?”

“Not everyone. Just the people who know you.”

Anna had to laugh at that. Her fourth call was to the beat writer for the
News & Observer
. The paper had played fairly—they’d given her and the team the space they’d needed when everything was up in the air, running only the shortest of updates about Marty Benson’s health. She owed it to them to deliver the full story now.