Saving Maverick (26 page)

He began calling himself all kinds of a fool for throwing away her time and energy spent arranging his interviews to the regional and national sports radio stations in order to prove to the public he'd changed his opinion. He had answered question after uncomfortable question about his past escapades and his personal life with Kelsey until they were satisfied the sports world was once again behind him.

He
found a sense of community here that was missing and he found a home and most important—he'd found Kelsey.

He pushed himself up out of bed and swayed, the nausea taking hold. He was damn tired of feeling this way, he knew better, and he vowed to do better. He realized it was now crucial for him to grow the hell up if he ever expected anyone to take a chance on him again.

Baseball was his first love and he needed it in his life, but Kelsey, she was an entirely new level of need and he'd be damned if he let her walk away from him without a fight.

Headed toward the kitchen for his hangover cure of strong, sweet coffee, he stumbled. He'd stepped on one of his cleats. He kicked it aside, stubbing a toe he could no longer feel, and looked for its mate so he wouldn't end up breaking his neck.

What he noticed instead was another box of stuff he still needed to sort through. He'd held off knowing painful memories were inside, memories he hadn't been able to handle. Fuck that, if he was going to move forward, he needed to put his big boy boxers on and deal.

Mav squinted and reached for the dark wood picture frame sticking out through the flaps. In it was a picture of him and Connor. Taken three years ago at his first Cy Young award ceremony. Arms around each other, grinning like fools, his younger brother was so proud of him.

His stomach flipped and his skin tightened. He hadn't looked at a picture of Connor for that reason. He hadn't been strong enough. Didn't want the crippling sadness to win. Dr. Sloane's words rang in his ears.
Maverick, you need to face your grief, release it from every pore of your being before you can build a new foundation for yourself. Don't you think Connor would be the first one to call you out on your unwillingness to move on? Give the sadness a moment to win, then get up, work on the fundamentals, and come back stronger.

Mav
dropped the frame. He fell to his knees and yelled out Connor's name. His gut burned, and for the first time since the accident, he let the tears flow. He saw again how his eyes had flashed open one last time. And he remembered the small smile his brother managed when he whispered, “Love ya, bro.”

Maverick made his way back onto the couch. The final image in his head before he passed out was how he fought as the paramedics pulled him off his brother's body, and Connor's eyes fading and closing for the last time.

The second time he woke up was with a jolt to his entire body. He took a moment to look around to see where he was. He looked at his watch. Three a.m.

His brain kicked into gear and he remembered what had woken him up. A dream. One where he and Connor were kids again. Maverick was showing him how to throw a baseball since their father was always too busy at work, and at this point Maverick thought of little else. He was eight, Connor four, and not even the ever-present allure of Legos swayed Mav from his newest goal in life. To be the next Randy “Big Unit” Johnson.

The dream faded, and he struggled to bring it back into focus. Needing to hold onto a good memory of his brother. But it was gone. He began thinking of when he was eighteen and cocky. He'd been pursued by every university within a thousand miles of his hometown. How his dad tolerated his love of the game, how his mother wanted him happy.

Making it to the big leagues, and specifically to the starting lineup of the Boston Patriots, was all Maverick wanted. He was pitching at a major league level even then, and many thought he might skip college and make himself eligible for the USBL right out of high school.

He'
d wanted to, but caved under his father's pressure. His dad wanted him to earn an MBA and use the scholarship money. Playing sports was fine, his dad said, but then come back home to the family business and prove yourself in the adult world, not the sports world.

So in order to please the one man he could never truly please, he let his father believe, until graduation, that that's what he would do.

When draft day came and his boyhood dream was realized, Mav disappointed his father and went his own way. No one ruled his destiny. Not even a father who saw him as an asset to his business rather than a son who had a passion for something besides making money.

Hell, the only thing he could credit his father for when it came to playing ball was his nickname. “Why do you have to be such a goddamn maverick all the time, Rand?' Enough of his friends were around when his father spouted his feelings against sports, and the nickname stuck.

Both he and Connor knew he was never the one destined for the boardroom, his fame and fortune was on the pitching mound. But his father never let him forget, even while he tried his best to shame Maverick into the family business the first few years of his career with the Patriots. Over time he became the star on the ball field, and Connor the star of the family.

Mav convinced himself for a while after the accident that he couldn't bear the thought of starting another season without Connor right there with him, in the stands rooting him on when he had no one else, not even his parents. That it would be too much to bear.

He hadn't told anyone he'd almost walked away from the sport he'd lived and breathed for seven years. But now he wanted to tell Kelsey. After coming to terms with his feelings and working with Dr. Sloane, a couple of bottles of whiskey and their fight, something had clicked.

He wanted to show her that he didn't need saving.

Chapter 31

The morning of the Outlaws' inaugural opening day, and she'd spent most of the previous night running through different scenarios. But the best thing she came up with was time. Time to heal, for both of them.

She wanted Maverick in her life but being his “fixer” wasn't what she needed to be anymore. She wanted to be his. And everything else, the job, the money, wasn't important. She wanted to show him that her feelings for him were real and not tied to his being an Outlaw.

Later that morning she walked into T.S.'s office and handed him her resignation. “I'm not going to accept it,” T.S. said. He sent her an even look.

“You've proven that this team needs you and frankly we're looking at picking up a couple of more players who, uh, have interesting histories. Well, colorful anyway. Give it another day. Sleep on it. He'll come around.”

Kelsey watched her boss, her friend, as he tore up her resignation and wished it were true. “T.S., I need to do this. It's not what I'd like to do, but what needs to be done so we can all move forward. He's shut me out. So I'm going to step back and give him time.”

“Jesus, I'm sorry. For what's it worth, I'm pretty sure the stupid ass loves you. He's bound and determined to act the martyr in this situation. Don't you do the same.”

“
Yeah, well, all things considered, I didn't fulfill our agreement. I'll e-mail you a new copy of my resignation.” She turned to leave his office.

“Kelsey, for Christ's sake, sit down. We need to come up with a plan and your quitting isn't it. Maverick knows deep down that he can still be an asset to this team, and if you still want him then you need to show him that you're sticking with him no matter how many times he deflects your efforts.”

“Short of parading myself naked in front of his condo, I'm not sure I could be any more enticing, T.S.” She threw up her hands and let out a combination laugh and cry. “I swear, he's part mule. He's convinced himself that through his choices, his bad choices, his brother was killed and because he didn't attend the trial, the driver was acquitted.

“So, what about the opening game tomorrow? Does missing the last game of spring training make him ineligible? Because the last time I talked to him, he said Blake had told him he'd be the starting pitcher,” Kelsey said.

“I plan on discussing that with Blake after we're done here. But I need you to assure me you're not giving up on Maverick or the VP position.”

She hadn't noticed Lois enter the room until she offered a brilliant solution.

“Maybe what he needs is to talk to someone who's gone through a similar situation. Someone who can show him that continuing to live life to the fullest doesn't disrespect his brother's memory.”

That was it. Maverick needed someone who'd been there and come through the other side. And she knew just the right person. “Lois, that's not a bad idea. As a matter of fact, it's brilliant.” Kelsey stood and stopped at the doorway. “T.S., you owe your secretary a raise.”

She
gave Lois a quick hug. “I've got a call to make. I have an idea of who can help us get through Maverick's stubborn skull. I'll be damned if he gives up baseball.”

Maverick had finished one pot of coffee and was working on a second after leaving another message for Kelsey when he heard the pounding on his front door. Feeling a sense of déjà vu, he rushed to open it, certain she'd come back to give him, them, a second chance. Well, actually a third. When he opened it he was greeted by an angry teenager instead of a sexy media consultant.

“So how come you stopped responding to my tweets? We thought you would be different, man. But you're like all the others. Need to feel like you're a do-gooder and when the shine wears off, you call it quits. Well, screw you.” Ian turned to leave.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa. Hold it right there, mister. You can't yell at me and walk away. Get your butt in here and talk to me. Man to man.”

Ian glared at him. He'd shoved his hands in his pockets and fell into the disinterested slouch all teens seemed to have in their arsenal of teenage angst.

“Whatever,” Ian replied.

“Listen, I deserve more than ‘whatever.' But you're right, you deserve more than a phone call to the center's director. I should have called you personally.”

Maverick ushered the upset teen into the condo and waited him out. Ian took a seat and stared a hole into the carpet.

“Ian, I'm sorry. I had a lot happen this past week and I didn't want . . .”

“Yeah, you didn't want to be bothered with some punk kid asking questions, I get it.”

“
No, Ian. I don't think you do. But if you give me a few minutes to explain maybe we can work this out. Because, dude, the last thing I want is for you to be mad at me.”

Ian gave a slight nod and remained silent.

“Remember how I told you I lost my brother last year?”

“Yeah, he was killed in a car accident, right?” Ian answered.

“Right, but it was more than that. Connor shouldn't have been driving. I made a poor choice that night and drank too much. I was supposed to drive us home because he wasn't as familiar with the area, but when the time came for us to leave the party he was the sober one, so he drove.”

He wasn't feeling up to this, but no way was he going to let the kid think he was not important. He sat next to Ian and finished the story.

“Connor was the smart one in our family. Everything he tried or put his mind to—he excelled. Probably why he was our dad's favorite. But for whatever reason, he idolized me and loved coming to my games. When I made the pros, he was the first one I talked to. Our dad wasn't exactly thrilled about my career choice.”

Ian remained silent but Maverick noticed his back wasn't so ramrod straight anymore.

“Anyway, that night a truck driver who should never have been on the road, crossed the center line and sideswiped our car. It turned out the driver had fallen asleep. I was thrown clear; Connor wasn't as lucky.”

“The reason I bailed on you the other day and the reason I missed yesterday's game, is that the jury acquitted the driver. I should have been there, Ian, but I was too caught up in making the public see what a heck of a guy I could be. I chose to play baseball because I
couldn'
t bring myself to go to the trial of the guy who'd killed my brother and sit there and relive it again.”

“What have you been doing since you heard the news?” Ian asked.

“Acting stupid.”

Ian snickered. “Did you get drunk? This place reeks, man.”

“Yeah, that was part of the stupid. I didn't reach out to those I care the most about. And you're one of those people, Ian. I should have known you would understand what I was going through. I'm so sorry, dude, for letting you down.”

Ian rubbed his chin. Maverick wondered if that was something he'd gotten from his father. The kid had come through so much with losing his dad at such a young age. Becoming the man of his family and carrying on with his life.

“I guess I understand. When my mom told me about my dad, I didn't leave my room for two days. Well, except to take a piss.”

Maverick barked out a laugh. Then another and found himself holding his gut; he couldn't hold the emotions back any longer and let loose. Ian joined him. Anyone walking in at that moment would think them a couple of loons. But damn, it felt good to laugh again.

“You know, Maverick, life can suck. Big time. But I think the ones we lose would want us to not let it get us down. So we kind a owe them to keep going. You know?”

This kid just kept amazing him. He gave Ian a soft punch in the arm. “Kid, you sure you're only thirteen? Thanks for setting me straight.”

Ian shrugged his shoulders and gave him a small smile. “Anytime, Mav.”

Later, after dropping Ian off at his home with a promise to get together for pizza and root beer again, Maverick played their conversation over. The kid was right. The ones left behind did
owe
it to those who could no longer enjoy life to carry on and not live in pitysville. He placed a call to T.S. and after a long-winded tirade was asked to come in for a face-to-face with him and Blake. He owed them both a big apology.