Covering Home (20 page)

A gloomy sky greeted them, clouds fat with rain billowed in the distance. How appropriate. The weather matched their moods. He propped the suitcase next to his feet and reached for her sunglasses. “I need to see those amazing eyes of yours.”

Her lower lip trembled. “Let’s make this quick, okay?”

Hooking one earpiece of the sunglasses onto her purse, he cupped his hands around her face and moved within inches of her mouth. Her breath whispered against his chin, while her eyes held his. Ignoring the probing stares from people rushing past them, he brushed his lips against hers. She responded with a tender kiss, yet still kept her distance. Then she dropped her purse and her briefcase on the platform and flung her arms around him.

His heart pounded in his chest. Forget cultural norms. He longed to scoop her up and carry her right back onto that train. Any ounce of self-control he had left was shredded by the intensity behind her kisses.

Chest heaving, he forced himself to pull away. Resting his forehead against hers, he enjoyed the tiny smile that played at the corners of her full lips. “A little something to remember you by?”

“Sorry. I got carried away. You have that effect on me.” She slid her hands from his neck and clutched the lapels of his plaid button-down shirt. “Promise me something?”

He rubbed her upper arms slowly, the fabric on her bright pink hoodie soft against his hands. “Anything.”

“Don’t let me keep you from having a great season.”

His hands stilled. He studied her, memorizing every curve and facet of her face. “What do you mean?”

“I watched you pitch. You’re on fire. This could mean great things for you. I don’t want to stand in your way.”

He let out a slow breath and folded her into his arms one more time. “There’s room in my life for you and baseball. I can promise you that.”

He kissed her forehead before she stepped back. He grasped for her, letting his fingers skim the length of her arms until they held nothing but air. She shouldered her bags and nudged her suitcase until the handle fell into her palm. With her free hand, she kissed her fingertips and touched them to his lips.

“Goodbye, Caleb.”

“Bye,” he whispered. Icy fingers of regret worked their way up his spine.

He watched her walk toward the automatic doors of terminal two. She disappeared inside and never looked back.

He stood on the platform for a long time. People cut a wide swath around him as he stared after her. Swiping his fingers across his cheek, he realized those were the first tears he’d shed for a woman other than Amanda. Somehow that milestone brought him little comfort. All he wanted was to hold Britt in his arms again, to see that smile, feel her touch. This was going to be the longest one hundred and twenty-seven days of his life.

Britt held it together while she checked in at the ticket counter and then passed through the airport security checkpoint. The methodical process proved to be an excellent distraction. Just keep putting one foot in front of the other. Don’t think about his arms wrapped around you, the way his smile—

“Miss?”

She glanced up from repacking her laptop back in her briefcase. A silver-haired American man in an expensive suit stood in front of her, a passport in his hand.

“I think you dropped this.” His eyes were kind. Robin’s egg blue to match the silk tie knotted at his neck.

Britt winced. She accepted the navy-blue booklet, flipping the cover open to reveal her own photo. “Thank you. I—I guess I’m a little distracted.”

He nodded. “I saw you on the train. I hope everything works out.”

“Me, too. Thanks again. That would’ve been a nightmare.” She forced a smile and stored her passport in her purse for safe-keeping. With a bag on each arm, she turned away and followed the signs toward international departures.

Her stomach rumbled as she passed a smorgasbord of glass cases filled with her last opportunities to eat Japanese food in Japan. But every California roll reminded her of that first night in the restaurant with Caleb. She kept walking, only to see business travelers hunched over a counter, slurping Ramen. Her heart ached. This was miserable. Every step toward her flight was another step away from Caleb.

Outside the United Airlines business class lounge, she punched the access code into the keypad then opened the door. Several men stared at their laptops, fingers clacking away. They stopped talking when she walked in. Chin held high, she felt their eyes on her as she hurried past, staking her claim on a leather chair in the corner near the window.

She’d left for the airport way too early—her solution for getting through a painful goodbye was to get it over with. Like ripping a bandage off of a wound. Now she wished she’d spent more time with Caleb. With over two hours until her flight left for San Francisco, she booted up her laptop and waited for the home screen to appear. Pulling up the file she’d started when she convinced the network to book this trip, she re-read all of her notes. Even the ones hastily typed the previous day.

The truth about Amanda’s accident changed everything. Caleb wasn’t some washed up professional athlete battling an addiction.

He’d done nothing wrong. Yet he’d lost his career. Now wonderful things were happening for the inner city youth of Denver, and Caleb took none of the credit. With all of the lousy news stories out there, wouldn’t the world benefit from hearing something good? But he wasn’t ready to share his story and she’d honor that request.

The cursor blinked at the end of the last sentence she’d typed, like a playground bully taunting her to come up with something profound. But the words eluded her. Marne wanted a behind the scenes look at life in Japan for an American baseball player—not a set-the-record-straight exclusive. Especially if she was implying that Greg Forrester hadn’t been entirely forthcoming with the details regarding his daughter’s death.
And, hello, conflict of interest.
Releasing a slow breath, she closed the file. This would have to wait.

An incoming text message chimed on her phone. She lifted it from her purse and studied the screen.

Miss you already.

Her heart swelled. Caleb had attached a photo of the two of them eating dessert in the park. It must have been Heather’s doing, this candid shot. It was taken from a short distance, a profile view. She wore a faint smile on her lips, while Caleb held a spoonful of mango sorbet halfway to his mouth.

Britt texted back.

Miss you, too. Thanks for the pic. XOXO

She scrolled to the only other picture of Caleb she possessed. A quick shot taken in front of the fountain at the hotel. Arms around each other’s waists, heads tilted together. But the underlying sadness of the moment was still evident in their half-hearted smiles. A heaviness settled in her chest and spread to her limbs, an unwelcome companion that she feared would be with her long-term. She tipped her head back and stared at the ceiling. Was this what life would be like now? Quick text messages between flights and late night FaceTime sessions after games? There was no way that would sustain them until mid-July.

Chapter Twenty-One

Caleb wound up and pitched his best two-seamer toward Hideo, the bullpen catcher. As he released the ball, his elbow throbbed in protest. He winced, watching the ball cross the plate. Hideo scooped it out of the air and gave Caleb a nod of approval.

“That’s good, that’s good.” Shin came out from behind the fence, clapping his hands. “Bring it in.”

Caleb mopped his brow with his forearm, then jogged toward the pitchers and catchers forming a circle around Shin. The air was thick, stifling, like someone had draped a soggy parachute over the field. His T-shirt clung to him, sweat soaking through to his practice uniform. Now he understood why his Japanese teammates changed uniforms multiple times. The infamous Hanshin Tigers had a beautiful stadium and it felt great to play baseball outside again. But he hadn’t experienced humidity like this since his minor league days in Mississippi.

Taking his place next to Aaron in the huddle, Caleb wedged his glove under his arm and rubbed his elbow. Jason quietly appeared on Aaron’s other side, ready to translate Shin’s post practice comments.

“Great job, man.” Aaron nodded toward Caleb’s arm. “Feeling okay?”

Caleb shrugged. “A little sore. Probably just some left over scar tissue or something.”

Aaron’s eyes lingered on Caleb’s elbow. “You’re probably right.”

Nothing to worry about.
He chalked it up to fatigue and living in yet another strange hotel. They were staying in Osaka for a six game series, facing the Orix Buffaloes immediately following the Tigers. Not to mention he’d tossed and turned all night, after saying goodbye to both his twin brother and Britt in the span of twelve hours. He’d ice his elbow twice today and be good to go. His heart, on the other hand, was a much different story. Thoughts of Britt sent a searing ache straight through him. Her smile, that hair, her sassy—

“Caleb?” Shin paused. All eyes were on him.

He cleared his throat. “Sorry. I’m a million miles away. Yes, Shin?”

“Nice work today. You’re my relief pitcher tomorrow.”

Again? Make that three rounds of ice. “Got it.”

They piled their hands in a huddle, the smell of grass and dirt and sweat closing in around them. What happened to Hisashi? He wasn’t even in the huddle today. Shin counted to three.

“Rays!” They hollered, thrusting their hands in the air before breaking free of the tight knit circle.

Caleb followed Aaron toward the visitors’ locker room. “Where’s Hisashi?”

“Wife went into labor,” Aaron called back over his shoulder, taking the steps down into the dugout two at a time.

“Oh.” Well. Who could argue with that? Childbirth and deathly illness were the only things that kept a pitcher off the mound around here. He’d find a way to dig deep and prepare to pitch a solid inning or two of relief.

After a quick shower, Caleb dressed for dinner in the requisite gray slacks and navy polo shirt the team owners deemed appropriate for an evening in Osaka. He’d never understand this matching outfits thing, but now was not the time to argue. Head down, get the job done. That was his approach for the next several months.

He found Kai in the training room, scooping ice into plastic bags.

“How’s your arm?” Kai tied a knot in the plastic bag and conformed it to Caleb’s elbow. Caleb sucked in a breath as the cold registered on his skin.

“It’s fine.” Caleb bit his lip and avoided eye contact. It was fine. That wasn’t a lie. It just wasn’t great. That’s all.

“I saw you rubbing your elbow. Any numbness or tingling?” Kai sandwiched another bag of ice on the inside of Caleb’s arm, then secured it with his roll of plastic wrap.

Caleb shook his head. “No. I told you it’s fine.”

Kai tore the wrap loose and gave the ice bags a final adjustment. “If you say so. Let me know if anything changes.”

“You got it. Thanks.” Caleb turned to go, his arm cocooned in ice and plastic. Even though he’d done this hundreds, maybe thousands of times, those initial stinging, burning minutes were awful. He settled into a black upholstered chair in the hall outside and tried to get comfortable while he waited for his teammates to finish their showers. Fumbling for his phone in his back pocket, he glanced at the screen. Nothing from Britt. He mentally calculated the time change between Japan and San Francisco. She should be home by now. Maybe her family took her out to eat. Or else she went straight to bed. He scrolled to her Facebook wall and checked for a new post. Nope. Zilch.

“That’s the face of an aggravated dude.” Aaron came out of the locker room, still cinching his belt. “What’s up?”

“Nothing. Wanted to make sure Britt made it home safely.”

“Oh, I get it.” A knowing smile spread across Aaron’s face. “You aren’t aggravated, you’re in love.”

“Whatever.” Caleb scowled and looked away, his knee bouncing up and down. A slow heat crawled up his neck. He couldn’t really deny it, could he?

Aaron sat down in the chair next to him, lacing his fingers behind his head. “It’s not such a bad thing, you know.”

“Timing stinks.” Caleb shifted in his seat. “Baseball rules our lives for the next six months.”

“That it does,” Aaron said. “But it’s not forever, right?”

Caleb shrugged. “Who knows? She’s great at what she does. I can’t really ask her to give up broadcasting to move to Japan.”

Laughter rumbled from Aaron. “Yeah, what kind of a girl would move to Japan for love?”

“I’m sorry, man. I wasn’t thinking.”

“Not a problem. I get it. Heather didn’t exactly adore her job as a preschool teacher.”

“But you got sick of being apart, right?”

“We thought this would be an adventure. It’s tough, but I was miserable in the minor leagues back home. You’ll figure it out.”

Caleb nodded, chewing on his lower lip. Yeah, they’d figure it out. He hoped the end result wasn’t a broken heart.