A/N: Thanks so much to my pre-reader Cejsmom. She gave me encouragement when I was terrified to write this. I'd also like to thank my dear husband, who also pre-read this and made sure it was sufficiently guy-ified. I'm not sure why I found this so difficult considering I spent three years as the sole woman working in a Naval aviation environment with a ratio of like 30:1. I've seen things, y'all, that would curl your hair. But while I can predict what a guy will do, I'm still mystified by their logic, how they arrive at that action. So this was hard. I hope you all enjoy…
DL= Disabled List. I don't think Edward would be bothered to refer to it by its full name in his head.
December 6, 2013
As I swam into consciousness, the pounding in my head was the first thing that registered. I was forced to swallow my groan since my tongue was glued to the roof of my mouth. I cracked one eye open slowly, knowing this morning was going to be something unpleasant. I hadn't had a night like the one before in quite some time, and I was starting to remember why. I winced at the brightness that greeted me when my eyelids were at a squint. I'd forgotten to close the blinds when I'd stumbled in.
I glanced at the bed next to me in trepidation and sighed in relief when I saw I was alone. I may have relapsed into my old life last night in one way, but, thank goodness, I hadn't done it completely. I was having trouble remembering the exact way the evening had ended, but I knew there'd been a brunette rubbing her tits against my arm at one point. I should have sent her on her way once I'd autographed her cardboard coaster, but she reminded me of…well, no use going there.
I grabbed the pillow next to me and shoved it behind my head, propping myself up slightly and blinking rapidly to acclimate to the sunlight. I needed water and Advil, but the trip across the room to the bathroom seemed daunting as it was. I glanced the clock. It was only 9 AM. I still had plenty of time to jump in the shower and make my meeting on time, the meeting that was the cause of my hangover in the first place.
The season had started so well. I'd been a finalist for the Cy in 2012, and everyone assumed I'd be the guy for 2013. Hell, I'd been one of those. I had nothing, if not for a perfect arm. I may have had to sacrifice a few things over the years, but it had all been for the game. And totally worth it, I told myself over and over.
I'd proposed to Victoria on Valentines Day just before leaving for Spring Training. That was always a particularly shitty day for reasons I preferred not to remember, so I thought I'd try to make some new memories. Kate had already moved back to Houston, so I took her to Tiffany's with me when I was home for Christmas. I figured all guys were nervous when shopping for engagement rings, so I just ignored that sick feeling in the pit of my stomach as we perused the displays.
Kate was in her element, poring over cut, color, and whatever the fuck the other C's stand for, but I just stood back and watched her, feeling more and more uncomfortable every second. I kept thinking I should've shopped in Atlanta. I had this paranoid feeling that at any second, she would walk into the store. Thankfully, the moment that thought flitted across my brain, Kate realized how distracted I was and forced me to participate. I picked the first one Kate showed me. I should have known that meant I didn't care, but I can be slow at times.
Vic cried; she was thrilled. But I kicked myself because I was wrong about making new memories. When I should have been experiencing the best day of my life, I could only relive that Valentine's Day all those years ago when I'd been such a supreme dumbass. A beautiful, smart woman had just promised to be mine forever, and I could only think about the one who got away. I already knew what an asshole I was, but I'd conveniently chosen to believe I'd outgrown that. Nope.
And the casualties of my assholishness were only building. I panicked and tried not to tell my parents about the engagement, but, of course, Kate spilled the beans, and Victoria told her parents, who in turn, called my parents. By then, I was in Florida, and they were completely confused about why I wouldn't have told them about something so huge. My mom showed up in Orlando for the first game of the pre-season and confronted me.
"Edward, it's not like you to make me drag something out of you. You've always confided in me. The very few times this has happened, it's been something truly awful that you'd done. I don't understand what's happening here," she'd said after I'd won the game. "Victoria is a lovely girl, and I would be proud to have her for a daughter-in-law." I called her on her subterfuge.
"You didn't say 'but,'" I challenged her, and she raised her eyebrows.
"Is there a 'but'?" she asked, and I just looked at her. She stumped me like only a mother could. She leaned forward with an intense expression, and then I got nervous.
"Edward, you and Victoria have a lot in common, and you seem to get along. And your children would be gorgeous, little redheads. However, there's only one girl I've ever seen truly get under your skin. Does she have anything to do with this?," she spoke with trepidation, and I understood why. I slammed my fist onto the table between us.
"Don't bring her up," I demanded in a low, serious voice. My mom was undeterred and stared back at me unblinkingly.
"Why not?" she asked with false innocence.
"You were the one who told me to let her go. We're done tonight," I declared and got up from the table and left her there. I went immediately to the bedroom in my rented house. She could find the guest room all on her own. But, her words got to me. I considered why they had me so upset, and I didn't like what I encountered in that exercise.
I dreamed of her that night: her brown hair spread across a pillow, her scent as I buried my nose in her neck, her moans as I ran my tongue over her rosy nipples and dipped my fingers lower. I woke in a sweat with a raging boner. After an awkward attempt to relieve myself, I ended up in the shower prepared to take care of myself quietly and overlook the fact that my mom was in the next room.
As the warm water beat down on me, I stroked myself firmly and thought of my fiancée. I thought of her fiery hair, slim body, and tight ass. Nothing was happening, so I pumped harder and tried to picture Vic as she came, head thrown back in ecstasy, her pale skin rosy from exertion. It wasn't working.
So, I tried to picture scenes from the last online porno video I'd watched, something I'd stumbled on accidentally, of course. It featured two Asian chicks doing 69, both of their breasts absolutely unnatural. I'd enjoyed it at the time, but the memory was now doing nothing for me.
So, I let the wall slip, flicker, and disappear. I pictured Bella's face, and the way her cheeks and chest had flushed when I'd fucked her on the vanity in her bathroom. She'd been embarrassed by my comments about the mirror, but she'd been turned on. And she'd given me as good as she got. She was perfect and beautiful, and no one would ever match her. And then, I came, shouting my release, although, the sound was drowned out by the drumming of the water from the shower.
I lamented my moment of weakness, but that's when I knew that this farce with Victoria had to end, for both her sake and mine. Because there was only one thing that would make me whole, and it was beyond my reach. Victoria still had a chance. But that couldn't happen until I returned to Atlanta for the regular season. She'd be visiting me for a few weekends, but I couldn't break up with her then. She'd be convinced I was cheating on her. Unfortunately, after my Minor League indiscretions, I had a bit of a reputation.
She was undoubtedly suspicious about the distance between us during her visits, but I faked it and made it back to Atlanta. Sadly, I got my ultimate payback in the opener against the Nationals. In the third inning, I threw what I hoped to be a slider and felt a pop in my left elbow. It was excruciating, and I had to signal Coach McDowell to take me out of the game, something I'd never done before.
And my flirtation with the DL began. I was on it, and then I was off it. I told Victoria it was over, and all she did was roll her eyes at me and ask why I'd bothered to propose in the first place. It was a good question, and I had no answer. She stormed out, and I hadn't seen her since. My performance on the mound was abysmal. My elbow throbbed. Finally, Coach McDowell convinced me to seek help beyond the trainer.
I ended up in the office of Dr. Marcus at Emory University. He was a kind person, used to handling the egos of professional athletes, and I appreciated greatly his attention. After a few meetings, he hemmed a hawed for a while before he finally got to the point. My heart was in my throat. I thought he might be about to tell me my career was over.
"Mr. Masen, I can't help but notice that you have some unresolved issues," I stared at him, and he hurried to complete his thought. "All I mean is that you seem alone, no wife, recently broken engagement. Sometimes the success of a rehab lies in those who are there to support the patient," he ventured.
"Dr. Marcus, I can assure you that I'm fine, and doing quite well in the support department. Just do your job so I can get back in the pitching rotation," I ground out.
"Sure," he replied with wide eyes. "We'll do whatever you need. Are you OK with seeing my fellow next visit? His name is Alec, and he's quite gifted. I have two weeks off to take my wife to Hilton Head. She loves the beach," he grinned with his off topic rant. I shrugged at him. I obviously wouldn't make the All-Star team this year with the injury the way it was, so my revised goal had to be the post-season.
I was on the 60 day DL for the rest of July and August. I pitched a few games in September, but I could tell I wasn't at my best. However, when Coach McDowell asked me if I was ready for the Wild Card game, I told him I was 100%. And it was a complete fucking disaster. I didn't last two innings, and the responsibility for the loss and the end of our season fell right on my shoulders.
After a nice break in October, I got back into my workouts in November. But things were strained. I know they thought they were being slick, but I noticed that the coaching staff, and especially the manager, didn't look me square in the eye anymore. They'd focus on my chin and slide their gazes away as soon as politeness allowed. I was no longer the golden child, and it made me very anxious. Baseball had always been the one thing I didn't need to worry about. Now that my ability there was in question, I was having trouble keeping a lid on thoughts I'd rather keep buried.
Hence the crazy night out. Brady was one of the relievers, and he'd talked me into going out with him against my better judgment. The dude was all right, but I suspected he enjoyed my celebrity a bit more than my actual company, which was whatever. I was more than ready to drown my sorrows after the conversation I'd had with Coach McDowell earlier the day prior.
"Masen, you done for the day?" he'd asked when I finished my workout with the trainer. His tone was forced casual, and I was on alert right away.
"Yeah, Coach, what's up?" I tried to act nonchalant. The lines around his eyes tightened subtly, but I noticed. I'm an observant motherfucker. He ran a hand nervously over his brow, and I also registered the slight tremor of his fingers. This was not gonna be good for me.
"Gonzalez wants have a get-together tomorrow around noon. You good for that?" he didn't my eyes per usual these days. I ran the towel I was holding over my face to give me a minute. This was it. The GM wanted to meet with me, and they were going to break it to me that I was going back to the Minors. I gathered every ounce of dignity I had and answered the jerk.
"Sure, Coach, I'm free," I told him and headed directly to the showers. No need to prolong that conversation.
So, when I was getting dressed a while later, I quickly agreed when Brady suggested a night out at one of the most popular nightclubs in Buckhead. I'd been out once or twice since my break up with Victoria, but I hadn't been part of the nightclub scene since my days in the minor league. I had no desire to go back to that kind of partying, but I didn't think one night would hurt, just something to take the edge off until tomorrow when I'd lose the only that ever mattered. Well, almost the only thing that ever mattered.
I went home to rest and get ready for a few hours before I met Brady out, but my mind was going 100 miles per hour. At least the Braves AAA affiliate was located in a northern suburb of Atlanta. I wouldn't have to move. I tried to comfort myself with that thought, but I couldn't hold off the depressing memories of time in Mississippi and Lynchburg before I'd been called up to Atlanta. Surely, it wasn't that bad, I hoped.
So, there I lay, trying to recover from a night on the town and its accompanying hangover. Time was ticking by to the meeting with the GM, and I was desperately hoping for some other outcome, but I couldn't come up with any alternative. I was fucked.
After an utterly painful hour in which I managed to shower, shave, and drink a pot of coffee, I found myself in my Porsche on the way to Turner Field. I was wearing my darkest Under Armour sunglasses, but I still was nursing a pounding headache all the Advil, water, and coffee in the world wouldn't tame. I parked in my usual assigned parking spot and headed inside the stadium to the executive offices.
I was dressed nicely enough in crisp dark jeans and a button up shirt. I'd even put on leather sneakers, even though I hated shoes. And it was warm enough today for flip-flops, dammit. But unlike Houston, you still got sidelong looks in Georgia with that kind of footwear in December, even if the weather allowed it. Fredi Gonzalez, the Braves manager was in his office when I arrived, and his secretary waved me in without ceremony.
I was instantly on alert when I saw Coach McDowell sitting in a chair next to the window. He quickly looked away from me and became fascinated with something outside. From the direction of his gaze, it looked like a blinking Santa Claus on top of one of the liquor stores that surrounded the stadium. Not a good sign. I braced myself for the worst. Gonzalez motioned for me to sit across from him.
"Edward, you're being designated for assignment," he said. Boy, this asshole didn't beat around the bush. It was as bad as I'd feared. I blew out a deep breath, willing myself to keep my cool. I'd only been in the Majors for three years, so I had no claim on veterans' consent. There was nothing I could do.
"Yep, can't say I didn't see this coming," I told him honestly, and his eyes widened.
"No, I think you misunderstand me," he backtracked. I quirked a brow at him, more in defiance than interest. What else could he have meant?
"We can't keep you on the roster, you understand," he began again, splaying his hands in front of him. "It's not in our best interest to continue paying you, only to have you contributing in the minors." Now he had my attention.
"The Astros are interested. I assume if their offer is acceptable to us, then it will be acceptable to you," he said slowly. I stared at him, sure I'd heard wrong. The Astros wanted me. They were willing to buy out my contract to obtain a pitcher whose best days might be behind him. Hope blossomed in my heart at the same time my brain started racing at top speed. There would be no more drunken nights out. I would not slide back into my previous disgusting habits.
Houston. I'd be going back to Houston. Houston meant everything familiar. It meant my parents, and Jasper, and Kate. It meant decent Tex Mex. And most importantly, it meant her. I might see her again. I gulped at the thought.
"Yes," I heard myself say. "That would be very acceptable to me."
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December 16, 2013
I broke the news to Dr. Marcus at our next appointment. I was leaving for Houston for a two-week holiday vacation in a few days, and would return to see him again in January before I relocated to Houston permanently in early February. We'd made the decision to pursue an intensive, targeted rehabilitation regime over at least 10 weeks, and I'd need to start it once I arrived in Houston.
To my somewhat surprise, Dr. Marcus had already heard about my trade, and he'd already placed a call on my behalf to arrange a transfer of care. But I'd also made a call on my behalf to Jasper.
"The Astros use Carlisle Cullen at Baylor as their team doctor. He's a Sports specialist like me and apparently very good. I've met him a few times at the national meetings, and he's very well-respected," he told me, but I'd stopped listening. I recognized the name and the institution; it tickled that unpleasant spot in my brain that I liked to keep locked away. Dr. Marcus must have seen how my body went rigid, but he misinterpreted the reaction.
"Edward, I know you're worried about switching doctors in mid-rehab, but I assure you that they will take excellent care of you at Baylor. I think you might even be in better hands there," he assured me sheepishly. I shook off my funk.
"No, I'm sure you're right," I hastily interjected, "but one of my closest friends owns one of the top boutique physical therapy practices in Houston. I want to work with him. He's a former college baseball player and has known me since high school. I'll see Dr. Cullen, but I want my rehab at Whitlock and Associates." Dr. Marcus stared at me for a beat then slowly nodded his head.
"Let me vet the situation. I'll speak with Dr. Cullen again. We don't want to jeopardize your future by stepping on the wrong toes," he agreed, although I could hear the chastisement in his voice.
"Of course not," I replied and leaned back in my chair, leveling him with one of my cocky smirks. "I'm not an idiot. Jasper is the best," I assured him. He and this Dr. Cullen would find out soon enough. As I stood to leave, Dr. Marcus clapped his hand on my shoulder.
"Edward, we'll sure miss seeing you around here," he told me. I grinned and shook his hand. I'd already forgotten this place. Now, I had some vetting of my own to do. I needed to research Carlisle Cullen, not to mention the rest of the Baylor Orthopedic staff. I'd avoided that website for years, but now I had the perfect excuse to indulge my curiosity.
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Once back in my apartment, I glanced around at the space I'd previously called home. Even though I wasn't moving permanently until after the New Year, it no longer looked lived in. Boxes were scattered about, and random items lay on every flat surface. Good thing that I couldn't cook to save my life. All but the sink and microwave were inaccessible. I hadn't wasted any time getting myself ready to move as soon as the front office had delivered the news.
Tonight, however, I had more pressing things on my mind. I settled on the couch and propped my laptop on my knees. I opened the search engine but then I paused. Should I really be doing this?
Even if I did see her again, it was unlikely she'd forgive me or even spare me the time of day. So, should I even bother to find her? Maybe I should just let the chips fall where they may, go with the flow. I stared at the blank page while I debated. I jumped guiltily when my cell phone rang next to me. It was Kate. Boy, would she kick my ass if she knew what I was doing right now, I thought. Heat crept into my face as I considered the misconception I'd allowed her to perpetuate. I accepted the call to avoid thinking about it.
"Hey, Edward, what day are you getting in next week? Garrett and I are thinking about having a small dinner party, and I wanted to have it sometime you could come," she began without a greeting. I chuckled at her enthusiasm but grew suspicious quickly.
"You aren't going to try and set me up, are you?" I grumbled. She paused a bit too long before answering.
"Of course not," she replied breezily. "I'm done introducing you to my friends. Victoria doesn't even speak to me any more." I heard a touch of reproach in her voice.
"Katie, I'm sorry about that. But wouldn't it have been worse, if I'd actually married her and then had to get a divorce?" She huffed, but she knew I was right.
"Edward, I just worry about you," she finally admitted. "You just deserve someone like Garrett. I hate seeing you alone. I know you're capable of a loving relationship," she trailed off. I didn't like where she was headed with that train of thought.
"Don't tell me you're going to try and set me up with guys now!" I joked to distract her. "Someone like Garrett," I mimicked in my best falsetto imitation of her voice. My technique worked, and she giggled and allowed me to change the subject. Satisfied that she wouldn't try to play matchmaker at her party, I gave her my holiday travel details and said good-bye. The cursor on my laptop was still blinking when I hung up.
Kate had unwittingly reminded me of that New Year's Eve party at my parents' house all those years ago. The night Kate played third wheel to she and I.
That's where Kate had seen what I was capable of in a relationship. Kate still didn't know what really happened back then, and if I saw her again, I'd have to tell Kate the truth.
That decided it for me. I couldn't go into this blind. Even if she never spoke to me or even acknowledged me, I had to be prepared before I could see her. I typed "Baylor Orthopedics Houston" before I could lose my nerve.
Several options came up, but I clicked on the Baylor College of Medicine Orthopedics official departmental page. I counted back the years as I tried to decide whether to click on the faculty or resident section. I felt disappointment settle in my chest as I realized that she should be done with her residency by now. The chances I'd find her here on this page were actually slim. She could be working anywhere by now. I could always google her name and find out where she was, but running into her at Baylor and actually seeking her out in the community were two different things.
I clicked on the residency page anyway, and, sure enough, she wasn't there. Disappointment bloomed in my chest even though I'd expected it. My hand hovered near the edge of the page as I considered just closing it and forgetting this whole thing had ever happened. Instead, I clicked on the faculty page. I'd gone this far already, might as well turn into full-blown cyber-stalker.
I scanned the list of faculty members, and I didn't see her name. I did see Carlisle Cullen listed, so I expanded his entry to view it in its entirety. There wasn't much to it. He was the senior Sports Medicine subspecialist. He trained at Dartmouth and joined the faculty in 2007. She must have been one of his first medical students, which might explain why he allowed her to be harassed by that resident. I already had a low opinion of him for that. Or maybe he hadn't known. She sure hadn't confided in me.
I swiped at the keyboard, intending to close the page, as those twin emotions of rejection and guilt assaulted me almost as strongly as they had six years ago. I wondered why it continued to feel so fresh after all this time. But just before I could navigate away, I saw two small words at the bottom of the faculty list: Clinical Fellows. Before I could think too much about it, I selected the link.
And there she was, listed as the Sports Medicine Clinical Fellow. She looked beautiful and perfect, but maybe a little stiff. Her smile was a fake; that was for sure. It lacked the warmth and humor I knew she was capable of. She did look professional though. She wore a suit jacket, and her thick, lustrous mahogany hair spilled onto her shoulders. Her liquid brown eyes bore into my soul. I touched the screen before I could stop myself, doing nothing but leaving a smudged fingerprint over her face.
I struggled out of the haze that seeing her caused and realized what this meant. As the fellow, she worked directly with Carlisle Cullen. There was no question that I would see her at Baylor. Maybe not at that initial visit, but eventually it would happen. I started to panic and shoved the laptop off my knees so I could stand and pace across my cluttered living room. I longed for my piano and cursed my stupidity at leaving it behind when I moved to Atlanta.
I finally sank back onto the sofa and stared again at her face on the screen. I might not see her, I realized. If she heard that I was coming and despised me like I expected she did after the way I treated her, then she might make herself scarce. Carlisle Cullen had agreed to treat me, so he didn't hate me. I wondered if they were close, and if she'd told him about our past. Probably not, I decided. She was very private, or at least she had been. I slammed the laptop closed and ran my hands down my face in agitation. It was too much to consider right now. I needed to concentrate on my elbow and baseball.
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December 25, 2013
My parents were beyond thrilled that I was moving back to Houston permanently. My mom had already set up an appointment with a realtor for next week. I favored the idea of the new high rises near the ballpark. She'd smiled knowingly when I'd casually suggested that I needed something large enough for the baby grand.
Christmas Day was a quiet affair with just the three of us as usual. My dad and I played catch in the backyard per our tradition, although I lamented the fact that we couldn't go out to Hermann Park anymore. I attracted too much attention. My dad got called in for a few emergency admissions in early afternoon. Apparently a celebration had gotten out of hand and three members of the same family were being flown in from near the Texas/Louisiana border. I was sorry my dad had to leave, but I was used to it, having been the son of a burn surgeon my entire life. My heart went out to that family on what should have been a happy day.
I decided to take a walk around the neighborhood. There were so many prominent Houstonians in the upscale River Oaks section of town that hardly anyone spared me a glance when I ventured out. I mean, a former President lived just down the street from my parents; I was small potatoes.I winded my way along the tree-lined streets, admiring the holiday-decorated homes.
I stopped walking when I glanced up to realize I was currently strolling down Willowick Avenue. She had told me years ago that her parents lived on this street. I wondered if my subconscious had brought me here. I'd successfully blotted her out for years, but I was losing control over that lately. I wondered if she still celebrated Christmas alone or if she'd reconciled with her family. I resumed my walk, eager to get off this street.
I froze when a horrible thought occurred to me. Maybe she had a new family by now, a boyfriend or even a husband who took care of her. He would surprise her with breakfast in bed on Christmas morning, I imagined. The website had listed her with her maiden name, but I knew from experience with my dad's colleagues that that meant nothing. My chest clenched painfully at that idea. But I knew it was possible, probable even, that she'd moved on in these intervening years. A normal person would. I couldn't help that I wasn't normal.
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January 21, 2014
There was a skip in my step as I left Coach Graham's office at Rice. I had only been back in Houston permanently for one day, but I was unable to wait much longer than that in visiting my mentor. The old man had taught me so many lessons, and I was a better man and ballplayer for it. Too bad he couldn't have helped me avoid all of my fuckups.
I'd talked to him often over the years, and he'd never been short on advice. When my bad behavior had sparked media interest in the small outlets where I played in the minors, he'd pulled no punches in telling me to get my act together. Coach Graham and Kate really took all the credit in pulling me out of that dark hole. If it weren't for them, I probably would have eventually lost my career. I shook my head and tried not to think about the fact that I might be losing it anyway with my injury.
I was pleased with the arrangement Coach Graham and I had made. I had volunteered to mentor some of the pitchers and would attend several of their home games this season as a kind of guest coach. It would be good for team morale and ticket sales, once the word got out, to have such a celebrity involved. It would help me avoid boredom and despair as I went through the rehab process.
With that meeting over, I was now headed downtown to my new apartment to meet with a designer. I'd found the perfect place only a two-block walk from the stadium on the first day of viewing properties with my mom. I'd have been happy with one of the two bedroom units, but my mom insisted that I needed three bedrooms since who knew what the future held. I rolled my eyes but went along with it since I had no desire to argue with her. That would only lead to a discussion about "meeting the right girl," and no good could come from that.
The sale had been finalized over the last few weeks while I was in Atlanta, and I'd picked up the keys yesterday. My mom knew of an up and coming designer who was about my age and suggested she might be perfect for the project. I didn't care too much about that kind of thing, so I agreed. I just hoped it wasn't a set up.
I saw a young lady sitting on one of the chairs in the lobby when I entered from the garage. She appeared about my age and had light brown hair that came to her shoulders. She was pretty attractive and wore a black and white top with tight black pants and boots that went up to her knees. She looked good but too New York for my tastes. It was January, but this was Houston, and I knew she'd be hot in that outfit outside. She smiled when she spotted me and stood to extend her hand. There were several large books containing what I assumed to be samples, lying next to her chair.
"Edward, I'm Esme Platt. It's a pleasure to meet you," she greeted me. Her smile seemed sincere, but her eyes narrowed just a bit. She was definitely checking me out. I wanted to withhold my hand and just get on with business, but I didn't want to embarrass my mom. Hopefully she'd take a hint early on.
"Thank you for coming today, Esme," I responded and gave her the shortest handshake possible. "Let's go on up, and you can take a look around. I need all the help I can get." I cringed, realizing that could be construed as a double entendre. Her eyes raked down my body and back up to my face. She looked suspicious.
I tried to stand far away from her in the elevator and avoid looking at her directly. She murmured appreciatively when we entered the apartment and looked around interestedly. Her eyes settled on the piano almost immediately. I'd had it moved from my parents' house yesterday as soon as I had the keys. It was the only furniture in the whole place at the moment. Esme walked across the room and ran her fingers over the instrument. I suppressed the urge to shout at her to keep her hands to herself. She looked back at me with one eyebrow raised.
"So, the baseball star is sensitive enough to play piano?" she asked with heavy innuendo in her voice. She walked toward me, and I cleared my throat before I answered, quickly putting the kitchen island between us. She halted when saw my movement and frowned.
"Well, I was a music major in college before I dropped out to enter the draft," I explained in what I hoped was a matter-of-fact way. She nodded and seemed to be in deep thought. She turned suddenly and placed the books of samples she'd been holding on the piano bench.
Esme bent deeply at the waist as she performed this action, and I was treated to a fantastic view of her well-shaped ass. I swallowed hard. This girl seemed to want me, but I wasn't about to start my time in Houston by hooking up with my mom's friend's daughter. I still hadn't seen her yet. I couldn't entertain anything until that had happened.
She turned to look back at me when she was done. I could tell she was looking for a reaction to her action. This girl was trouble. She cocked her head to the side when she saw that I was still standing behind the island with my hands clutching the tile tightly. She gave me a small smile, and her flirtatiousness seemed to evaporate. Thank god, this girl seemed to be able to take a hint.
She was all business after that, and I warmed up to her. She seemed clever and talented. We walked through each room, discussing fabrics and color schemes, things that really didn't matter to me. But she seemed to attach a seriousness and purpose to it all, and I was surprised to find in the end that I was enthusiastic about her choices and hadn't hated the process.
"Edward, it's been a pleasure," she told me, all business, as I walked her to the door. "I'll get started on all this right away, so you should be able to move your furniture in by the first week in February."
"Thanks, Esme, I'm looking forward to it," I told her with a sincere smile. She looked at me for a long minute.
"I hope you'll let me know if you ever need to update it," she finally said. I wasn't sure what she meant. Was that an invitation if I should change my mind about being interested in her? Women could be so confusing. I hoped she didn't think I was gay. But then I shrugged. What did it matter what she thought? I had an appointment at Baylor on February 14 of all days. I might see her, and I knew it would take everything I had to get through that encounter.
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February 14, 2014
Valentine's Day dawned bright and early. I dressed carefully and rolled my eyes at myself acting like such a bitch when I spent a few minutes waffling over my shirt choice. I went with a white linen button up and rolled up the sleeves a bit. I started to put on shoes, but I huffed at myself and just put on flip-flops like I normally would. I might not even see her.
I'd wrestled with the knowledge that all I had to do was ask Jasper about her. She and Alice were still friends and kept up superficially. I felt bad because I was sure I was the reason for the rift. But asking about her would be opening up a can of worms with Jasper. He disliked her intensely due to things I had said, or as the case may be not said, years ago. If I asked about her, I'd have to set him straight, and I knew he'd be furious with me. I wasn't in a huge hurry for a heart-to-heart now or at any time.
I needed Jasper on my side more than ever now with the intense rehab that would be required to get back in top playing form. And I might not see her, anyway. And if I did, chances were high that she wouldn't want anything to do with me. So, I decided to stay a coward. I was certainly used to that role by now.
So I rode the elevator to the lobby and walked to my car with my heart pounding. I couldn't remember being this nervous since that almost no-hitter I'd thrown as a junior in college. I smiled without humor at the irony that that had occurred almost six years ago to the day, and my inner thoughts had been focused on the same subject that day, which definitely was not baseball.
I rolled down the windows of my Porsche as I left downtown for the drive over to the Medical Center. I wanted to let the cool air clear my head, but I was surprised by the warmth and humidity that permeated the car. It was going to be a hot one. That boded well for attendance at tonight's opener for the Rice baseball season. I was looking forward to helping out in the bullpen. I'd always hated Stanford.
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I parked in the patient lot and approached the front of the building in order to enter through the main lobby. This building was new; it'd only been built in the last year or so. My dad had said something off hand about it during dinner the other night. It was adjacent to the VA hospital, and I couldn't help but think about what I'd done six years ago today. That thought didn't help my nervousness.
I was early, but I hoped that someone might already be at the desk that could bring me back to a private area to wait until Dr. Cullen was ready for me. I didn't want to cause any kind of commotion in the lobby if other patients started to arrive. There had already been an incident when I tried to eat at Mai's week before last. Apparently, Houstonians were more interested in my return than I, or my PR team, had expected.
I was cheered that luck might be on my side when I stepped out of the elevator on the Orthopedics floor and saw a pretty, young receptionist behind the desk. I approached her with a wide smile, the one I reserved for getting my way. Her eyes widened and her mouth dropped slightly. I felt a little guilty and decided to dial back the charm so as not to overwhelm her.
"Hi, I'm Edward Masen. I have an appointment with Dr. Cullen this morning. I know I'm a little early, but I was hoping I could get in and out before the other patients start arriving," I introduced myself. I had no idea if she'd know who I was, but her initial reaction made me think she just might. She recovered herself and twirled a lock of her curly brown hair around her finger. She leaned forward slightly, and I was treated to a nice view of her cleavage. I couldn't believe her boss let her wear such a low cut top. She smirked when she caught me looking.
"Mr. Masen, it's such a pleasure. I think we can work with you. I mean, I can help you out with your little problem," she cooed, the double meaning in her words obvious. I'd been wrong to feel guilty for the charm offensive. This one was more likely to take advantage of me. I wiped all traces of a smile off my face and nodded with a business-like air.
"Thank you, Jessica," I read her name off of her nametag. "I suppose you mean that Dr. Cullen is already in this morning." She pouted when I didn't go along with her flirting and continued to twirl her hair.
"Tanya, the nursing supervisor is already here. She can at least get you checked in and ready for Dr. Cullen. She's in the back. You can go ahead and head back to the nurse's station. They're probably expecting you," she informed me with disappointment written over her face. I suppressed a shiver. I was about to walk back to the nurses' station. I could see her at any moment. I had to collect my thoughts, get it together.
Jessica watched me curiously as I paused at the door leading to the clinical section. I'm sure I looked odd, taking several deep breaths. I'd thought about this ad nausea the night before, trying to decide on an appropriate tactic or first words should I happen to run into her. I couldn't remember a single thing I'd decided. Finally when Jessica opened her mouth, obviously ready to ask me if I was all right, I had to turn the door handle and head on through.
I saw her right away and nearly tripped over my feet. She was behind the nurses' desk and appeared to have just stood up. She seemed to be collecting her things to leave. A woman with blondish red hair wearing scrubs was leaning over the counter to talk to her, but Bella didn't seem interested in answering her. My heart sped up. I couldn't let her go. Without calculating a plan, I moved quickly toward her just as she turned her back toward me, pushing papers into her bag.
"Big plans, tonight?" I heard the nurse ask her.
"Sorry to take up your space, Tanya. Emmett was here working in the office this morning, too, so I had to spread out. I'll head back to the office now," Bella answered. I swallowed the choking gasp that threatened, a result of hearing her voice again after so long. It sounded melodious and perfect. She gathered her things with more conviction now, and I knew I'd have to say something to stop her from leaving.
"You didn't answer my question," the nurse said in a surprisingly antagonistic way. I didn't like it, but she gave me an opening.
"Yes, I'm quite interested in the answer to that question as well," I somehow managed to say in what I hoped was a measured tone. She whirled around when she heard me, and the incredulous, hostile gaze that settled on me made me wish I'd chosen my words more carefully. That was not what I'd imagined saying to her the first time I'd seen her after six years. But I remained upright and moved toward the two women.
I placed my elbows on the counter and leaned forward onto them, clasping my hands in between. I tried to look casual, approachable. I felt like a tool when I realized I'd been honing in on her ring finger. Thank God it was bare. I snapped my eyes back up but met hers; I nearly drowned in them. The nurse spoke again and broke the spell.
"Oh my God, you're Edward Masen," she gushed breathlessly. I turned toward her and gave her a small smile. She obviously knew who I was. I glanced back at Bella, but the stormy look on her face fed my insecurity, so I looked back to the nurse. I wasn't sure what to do next.
"What are you doing back here?" Bella demanded suddenly, sounding very angry. And of course that's what I'd expected, but her next words caused a shiver of déjà vu. "You shouldn't be back here without an escort." Those were the same words she'd yelled at me when I'd barged into her clinic all those years ago. It caused me to take a step back and bury my hands in my pockets, not knowing what else to do with them. I was out of my element, but I wanted to convey calm. Was coming here and trying to talk to her just as bad as the mistake I'd made back then? I tried to smile at her.
"Your lovely receptionist, Jessica, I believe it was, said I could come straight back. I wanted to avoid any scenes in the waiting area when your other patients begin arriving," I tried to placate her. "She said Dr. Cullen was already in and happy to see me before the scheduled time." I pulled my hands from my pockets and held them up in surrender, hoping to elicit a smile. She didn't smile; she just continued to stare at me.
She studied me silently, so I took the time to look her over, too. Her hair was curled over her shoulders and just as dark and lovely as I remembered. She was wearing a blue pantsuit like a lawyer would wear, but it looked good on her, hugging her curves in a flattering way. She wasn't wearing much make-up, just the way I liked her. All in all, she didn't look much different. My heart ached to touch her. Suddenly, she closed her eyes for several seconds in a most confusing action.
The nurse must have been confused, too, because she took the opportunity to step closer to me. I didn't move away because I was too curious as to what Bella might do next. I saw Bella's eyes open and narrow just as the nurse moved close enough that her breasts rubbed against my arm. I tried to step away surreptitiously, but she spoke.
"Yes, sir, Dr. Cullen is in his office. Dr. Swan will let him know you're here. I'm Tanya. Have a seat over here, and I'll get your vital signs and get you checked in. We can have you through in no time. We are quite practiced with VIPs here at Baylor. Everything will be discrete; don't worry," she chirped brightly.
Now I didn't mind VIP treatment now and then, but I didn't like the idea that this woman would give me better care than any other patient. People like that usually also wanted something from me, so I was instantly suspicious of her. She motioned to a chair in the vitals area and turned her back on Bella, like she was nothing. I liked her even less after that.
I'd been trying to hold eye contact with Bella all this time, silently willing her to agree to talk to me, but she whirled and stalked away without a backward glance after the nurse spoke. I stared after her with chagrin. The nurse didn't notice, however, and started towing me toward a chair situated next to a blood pressure machine. She chattered away incessantly, but I didn't listen much to what she had to say. I filed away that her name was Tanya, but the rest went in one ear and out the other.
After she got my vital signs, Tanya led me to an exam room at the far end of the hallway. She showed me the employee stairwell and explained I could exit there to the parking lot when we were done to avoid the waiting room crowd. I appreciated her foresight on that issue. She had me sit down on an exam table on top of the white paper, and I carelessly kicked my flip-flops on the floor next to it. She laughed like it was the funniest things she'd ever seen. I wanted to ask her about Bella, but I sensed she was not a friend to my girl, so I tried to avoid engaging her in conversation.
She asked me to remove my shirt, and I did, carefully folding it on the table behind me. I turned to find her watching me hungrily, and I took in her expression with alarm. The woman had to be fifteen years my senior, and, while I tended to prefer an older woman, this one was down right scary. I expected to see her picture in the dictionary next to "cougar."
She put her hand on my forearm and spouted some more nonsense, leaning her chest toward me. I couldn't help but notice her ample cleavage when it was only inches from my face. I wondered what was up with the dress code around here. At least Bella had some class.
Just then the door opened, and I jerked my gaze guiltily away from Tanya. Of course, it was just my luck that it was Bella entering the room. I tried to meet her eyes, but she gave me a haughty head toss. Part of me wanted to yell in frustration but another part wanted to chuckle at how damn cute she was.
She dismissed Tanya and introduced herself like we'd never seen each other before. I felt like my chest was cracking open. Finally, we were alone. She just looked at me, and I looked back, waiting for her to say something. When she didn't, I opened my mouth to try and lighten the mood.
"Aren't you supposed to ask me questions and actually touch my arm?" I asked her. She just sighed, and I cursed myself for saying the wrong thing again. But she did walk toward the table.
"Edward, I'm sorry about before. I was just surprised to see you. I hadn't heard about the trade," she said to my great disappointment. Apparently, someone had filled her in since I'd seen her at the nurses' station. Good, she was asking about me.
"You don't follow the Astros anymore?" I asked. I hoped she wouldn't hear the hurt in my voice. I was an idiot to think she'd given one ounce of thought to me in the last few years.
"No, I do, but sometimes I get really busy. It's the off-season," she said with a shrug, and I nodded glumly.
"You've done well. I've been happy to watch your success," she blurted out. I just shrugged and looked down, having no idea how to answer that. I wasn't doing so well with words right now, better to keep it short.
"Well, it's been good. I really liked Jackson and Atlanta, but I'm glad to be home in Houston," I finally said, figuring that was safe enough.
"Of course, so let's get this elbow back on track. Now give me a brief description of what's gone on with it." And she became a stranger again, only here to examine my elbow. So that was it. Just as I expected, she wanted nothing to do with me beyond a professional venue.
I answered all of her questions, and Dr. Cullen still hadn't arrived. I wondered if she would have to examine me by herself. I almost started hyperventilating at the thought that she would touch me here in this room, just the two of us. I wanted it so much, but I wasn't sure if I could handle it. Finally, she stepped forward and put her hand out tentatively. This was it; she was going to touch me.
My arm jerked as her fingers touched it and a surge of electricity ran between us. I held in my exultation. There was still something between us! But my mood fell just as quickly when she frowned and dismissed it as static electricity. It didn't seem to rattle her at all.
Then, the sweet torture began. She ran her hands all along my left shoulder, wrist, chest, and finally elbow. It was hard to suppress memories of other times her hands had roamed my body. I shifted slightly to keep the growing problem in my jeans from becoming apparent. Finally, she was satisfied, and she stepped back. She made some notes on the electronic tablet she was using. I waited for her to move to the right arm, but she didn't. I realized what that meant and couldn't hold in a smile.
"What?" she demanded impatiently.
"I never told you which elbow was bothering me. You just assumed it was the left one," I told her, and she stared at me in confusion.
"But, you're a left-handed pitcher. Of course, it's your left elbow," she stated matter-of-factly, and I tried to get my grin under control.
"You remembered. It's been a while, so I'm flattered," I told her, but it had the opposite effect. She huffed in annoyance. Once again, I'd said the wrong thing. Just then, Dr. Cullen entered the room and interrupted us. She handed him the tablet and stepped aside immediately. I didn't like it. He introduced himself and went over the things we'd discussed on the phone and with Dr. Marcus. Then, he moved to examine my arm again. I didn't want anyone but her touching me today.
"Dr. Swan has already given me a thorough exam," I told him pulling back slightly. I saw her wince and realized my words could be construed as suggestive in nature. Fuck me, I was just saying the wrong thing every time. I was such an idiot.
Dr. Cullen explained that he was sure she had, and it was well documented, but he was obligated to repeat it as my treating physician. Whatever, the dude seemed kind of uptight to me. But then, he dismissed her, and she practically flew out of the room. I was sure she'd had enough of me for another six years.
Dr. Cullen repeated the exact same exam I'd already had. He muttered to himself, and I gathered that he completely agreed with whatever Bella had typed into the tablet. I barely listened to the platitudes he spouted after that. I could tell he was miffed that we'd be working with Whitlock and Associates rather than his regular physical therapy group. I didn't care.
I was too busy plotting what I'd say to her when I got her alone again. I knew she was seeing patients in the other exam rooms that lined this hallway. All I had to do was wait at the end towards the employee stairs until she came out.
Dr. Cullen saw nothing strange in my behavior and bid me good day. I made a show of heading toward the employee stairs as if to leave, but I hovered there after he disappeared into one of the exam rooms. I didn't have to wait long until Bella emerged. She looked right at me. I couldn't decipher her expression.
So, I lifted my hand to beckon her towards me. We needed to talk. But the movement seemed to spook her, and her eyes widened. Then, she was off like a shot, disappearing into another exam room, leaving me standing there alone.
I dropped my head to my chest and my hands to my sides. It felt like my heart was ripping itself right out my body. This was almost worse than the guilt I'd carried all these years over the way I'd treated her that day at the VA. I hadn't realized I'd been carrying around hope all this time. And now I saw the truth: she hated me and wanted nothing to do with me. I really had to move on now. And I had no idea how to go about that.
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A/N: So…that's what was going on inside Edward's head. I hope it answers some questions. There might be another short, surprise installment of this little story, so keep it on alert if you're interested. It might come when you least expect it. ;)
Thanks again to everyone who has read and reviewed and encouraged me to keep going. This has truly been a wonderful experience!
EG