Sorry about the less frequent updates. I had no time to myself over the Thanksgiving holiday weekend, and work is, of course, crazy busy in these in between weeks! I
I think now is a perfect time for a DH re-read. Because Bella wakes up with hottie Edward in her bed on Christmas morning. This is totally a Christmas fic!
I predict 2 more chapters. Enjoy! This corresponds to Chapter 16 in BPOV.
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I cleared Bella's tour of the stadium with the GM first thing on Tuesday morning. I predicted a long week ahead, anticipating seeing her literally on my home turf. However, my schedule was busier, and the days passed mercifully quicker than the crawl I'd expected.
The team was pressing on with the media blitz surrounding me, so they must have some hope for my recovery. I had a phone interview for an online article with ESPN and sat for my official Astros photos. I took a moment to gaze at my new jersey, hanging pristine in my locker. I touched the number 47 reverently and almost got choked up as I pulled it off the hanger. I dressed slowly, putting on the official uniform for the first time. I wished I was gearing up to jog out to the mound, not just pose for some over produced portraits.
The session seemed endless; I could not fathom why I would have to sit for 20 straight minutes just to take one head shot. I mean, it was a straight on view of my face. How many ways were there to shoot that? Angela, the photographer, had done a lot of work with the team, and she seemed very professional, but I almost lost it when she started in on the action shots. I couldn't actually throw any pitches, but she had me position myself in certain poses, so they could post pictures on the website that simulated me playing in a game with my Astros uniform, even though that had never happened. I felt demoralized when I was done, pessimistic about the whole situation.
But, lo and behold, the next day at my session with Jasper, I felt stronger. I wasn't sure if I was truly making progress, but then Jasper demonstrated where I had started with my range of motion and compared it to the exercise I'd just done. It was undeniable; I was getting better. Finally, a light at the end of the tunnel was in sight. I couldn't wait to show Bella, and my gut clenched as I realized that my first thoughts were of her. I needed to talk to her. I need to see if she could ever forgive me. Then, and only then, would this rehab be complete.
I focused apprehensively on my next meeting with her. It was always in the back of my mind, even as one busy day of interviews, meetings, training, and rehab blended into the next. Sunday night, I received a text from her. It was simple, just her touching base to confirm our appointment the next day, but the sight of her name popping up on my screen, sent a thrill of adrenaline through me.
I carefully typed in an answer and triple-checked it for any mistakes. I tried to sound nonchalant but also friendly, then scoffed internally. It was just a text. I hit send on it, then stared at the bubble as she received it. "Just text me when you're ready," I'd written. I watched my phone for several minutes, wondering if she would write back. Finally, I forced myself to put it away and go to bed.
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I cancelled all my events for Monday. I was too keyed up by the thought of my session with Bella to given anything else my attention. After choking down some breakfast, I sat idly at my piano. I couldn't concentrate on the music though and spent most of the time just gazing out the wall of windows. The view was spectacular, and I wished I could show it to Bella. I wanted to play for her. But I knew she wouldn't be visiting my apartment any time soon, if ever. Later, I slumped on my leather sofa and stared without seeing at my giant flat screen TV. The ESPN ticker played over and over, and I didn't even notice.
It was early afternoon, and way too early to expect to hear from her, but I kept checking my phone obsessively. I'd missed my window to go for a run, and the pent-up energy was killing me. Finally, the screen lit up, and it was thankfully from her.
"Finished in the OR. Ready whenever is convenient," it read. I knew I needed to play it cool, but I didn't. I wrote back immediately.
"On my way. Employee entrance to McNair," I typed and jumped up. I caught my reflection in one of the kitchen cabinets; my hair was insane. I ran my hands through it, but it just made it worse. I took a deep breath and grabbed a ball cap and my sunglasses off the table in the entryway. I was already dressed for the session in my usual Astros gear. I spun my car keys around my left index finger. It was showtime.
I made good time and was there in less than twenty minutes. I pulled up by the door and idled, not sure if I should park, and if I did, where she would look for me. It felt wrong not to get out and hold open a door for her. But I need not have worried, because these thoughts weren't even fully formed when I saw her pushing through the door and jogging towards me. I'd lost my opportunity at chivalry, but I wasn't even sure if she would have liked that.
She was dressed in scrubs again with loose hair. I thought this might be my favorite look on her, but then I remembered the short dress she wore the night I first saw her and couldn't decide. She approached the passenger side, pulled open the door, and slid onto the leather seat next to me. I felt my whole body relax with her proximity. The stress of the last week fell away. She seemed a little out of breath. Her eyes were wide and questioning, and I smiled at her as I pulled out of the parking lot, a little too fast.
"Thanks for picking me up," she said. I had to focus on the road to make several sharp turns and lane changes, but then I chose the center lane on Alameda. It was a straight shot downtown now. I could let my attention turn to her.
"I should thank you," I disagreed with a grin, reminding her that she was the one giving up her free time. "How was your morning in the operating room?" I queried. I wanted to show her I could speak her language, too, but her face shuttered. I couldn't figure out what I could have done wrong so quickly.
"Oh, sorry, I didn't mean to pry," I apologized and turned my focus back to the road ahead, feeling confused.
"No, it was fine. I'm sorry, I was just thinking about something else. You can pry," she prattled a little awkwardly. I felt immediately better and gave only passing consideration to what she could have been thinking of that made her face look like it had. I gave her another tentative sideways smile.
"I can pry?" I was pleased when that brought out a giggle. I didn't think Bella was prone to giggling, and I'd always been proud when I'd been able to garner one. "It's just hard to imagine you actually doing the surgeries yourself when I can remember you bragging about putting in two stitches," I blurted without thinking. I worried it was too intimate, too fast. She stiffened, and I thought I was right, but she called me right back out.
"Yeah, well, it's hard to imagine you as an All-Star and a Cy Young finalist, but that happened," she countered sassily. I huffed out a laugh, I was so pleased at our banter. I tried to keep any intensity out of my conversation, but it was hard since that's what I was feeling.
"You're right. I guess there's a lot we don't know about each other these days." My words sounded casual, but I was trying subliminally to convey my need to know her again. The ballpark was in sight, and I made some quick turns, maybe showing off a little with my driving. I stopped at the guard shack and greeted Toshiro, who was in the booth today.
"Mr. Masen, it's good to see you with a pretty lady," he said with his usual cheerful exuberance. He was a giant beast of a guard but was one of the friendliest guys I'd ever met. I grunted a little because I was sure Bella would not like being referred to this way. I knew she had to proud of her professional accomplishments.
"Toshiro, this is my orthopedic surgeon," I told him. "I'm going to give her a tour today." His grin never faltered.
"Whatever you say, Mr. Masen," he replied and somehow forced his hulking body into the open driver's window to get a better look at Bella.
"Doctor, you are a pretty lady," he said to her. She actually smiled and blushed. He shot a satisfied look at me and gestured for us to go on through. I guessed I could learn a thing or two from Toshiro about compliments. The security arm lifted, and I drove on through.
I pulled into my spot then paused to look at her. I gave her a brief smile, but she leaned away to climb out. I felt awkward and climbed out quickly too. I waited uncertainly next to the hood, but she went around the back of the car the long way before meeting me.
"Wow, you really have made it," she commented, making it clear she'd been checking out my car and my spot, which was marked with my name. "You've got your own spot in the front row at Minute Maid Park." I rolled my eyes, pretending this was silly, but I was still a teeny bit proud.
"Every player has his own spot," I corrected her. She was still smiling widely as I gestured for her walk ahead of me into the building. I used my key card to buzz us in and pulled the metal door open, again motioning for her to walk ahead of me. If Toshiro could be such a gentleman, I could too. We started down the tunnel, and I relayed the plan I had agonized over to her.
"Well…I thought we could deal with business before pleasure," I began and mentally kicked myself for the wording. Saying "pleasure" around Bella brought certain images into my brain. She stared straight ahead and said nothing, so I hurried on.
"We can go ahead and take a look around the Clubhouse before we start on the session, since we'll be down there already, but I thought we could take our time looking around the park and the field afterwards." I so badly wanted her to enjoy herself today.
"Of course, you're the boss," she replied flippantly, and hearing her say that made the images I was trying to block clamor forward again. I breathed a curse and tried to focus, picking up a little speed in my step.
"Great. Then, follow me, Bella," I told her as we came to the bottom of the tunnel.
"That's the elevator to the executive levels," I explained. "The fourth and fifth floors of the Union Station structure house all those guys."
"Okay," she responded, and I realized I was walking too fast for her. I needed to calm down a little.
"I've heard of some medical meetings being held in the Union Station building. Aren't there some conference rooms or something?" she asked. I stopped walking all together, happy to answer any questions she wanted to ask. It would prolong my time with her.
"Yes, some of the downtown businesses or other groups can rent those out. The rooms have lots of glass and a nice view of the skyline," I explained. I paused to key us into the media room. She glanced around curiously at the couches, chairs, and flat screen TVs. I looked too, with a new appreciate for just how nice this space was. I'd never given it much thought.
"This is the media room," I told her, but she obviously didn't know what I meant. "It's kind of a waiting area for the Clubhouse. Mainly, this is where the reporters will wait after a game. Or anyone else, for that matter, that needs to see a player before he's done in the locker room." She seemed satisfied with that answer, so I motioned for her to follow me further in.
"C'mon, the locker room and training rooms are through here." We walked together, me just a little in front, down the short hallway to the Player's Gallery, where all the Hall of Famer's portraits hung. She stopped, of course, in front of Jeff Bagwell's photo. What she did next almost floored me.
She grinned mischievously and blew a kiss and placed it on the image of Bagwell's lips. Desire bloomed low in my gut, and it took all I had to shake it off. I doubled over in laughter once I'd recovered to cover my other reaction. She had such a wicked wit, and I longed to be a party to it again. She started to repeat her gesture with Lance Berkman, but I grabbed her wrist before she could do it. I didn't think I could control myself, but touching her skin was worse. The electric shock ran between us just like it always had, and I stepped away startled by it. She stared back at me, and I thought she must have felt it too.
"Bella, let me show you the locker room before we head into the Training Room," I requested, embarrassed that my voice sounded hoarse and tight. There was more tension between us than there had been in any of our previous meetings, and I wasn't sure what it meant.
I showed her into the locker room and led her down the line of lockers until we got to mine. She stepped very close to it and examined the name plate. She turned to me and gave me look that suggested she understood how much this meant to me. I used my key to open the lock and swing the door open wide, so she could see the uniform hanging there. The very same one that I'd worn for the first time for the team photos last week but still hadn't worn on the field. She fingered the fabric and looked impressed. I felt a surge of pride.
"Wow, Edward, this is amazing," she enthused, but I shook my head. I didn't really deserve the accolades yet.
"No, not really. I mean, I've only worn it for pictures, so that's why it's so clean and new looking. And who knows if I'll ever wear it for real…" I trailed off, trying not to let the panic set in, here in front of her. She stunned me by reaching out her hand and touching my cheek and tracing the curve of my jaw.
"Hey, we'll get you better. Don't worry," she said reassuringly. She didn't even seem to realize what she'd done until our eyes locked, and I raised my hand to grasp her fingers. Electricity snapped between us again. I pulled her hand away and took a step back. My emotions were too strong; it was too much. She stepped back too, but we continued locked in a staring contest. I wanted this, but we needed to get through the therapy first. And I wanted to be sure she meant that tender gesture, and that it was not just an unconscious action.
"We better get to work," I finally said and walked ahead of her out of the room to give us some space. She followed me back down the main hallway towards the Training Room. She seemed impressed by the facility, as I'd expected her to be. It was state-of-the-art, after all. She seemed particularly interested in the Minute Maid refrigerator. I waited as she inspected it all, the fluorescent lights buzzing overhead were the only sound. Finally, she whistled appreciatively and spoke.
"I think you were being modest when you said the facilities were 'just as good' as Whitlock and Associates," she accused. I let out a small laugh and buried my hands in the pockets of my track pants. Her lighthearted tone relieved some of the previous tension.
"It'll do," I also adopted a teasing tone. She kept looking at the fridge, so I had to offer. "Do you want something to drink?" She looked embarrassed and shook her head, so I grabbed a tension band and sat down on the training table. We began the routine and worked in relative silence. I was proud of the progress I could see, but she didn't say anything. I wondered what she thought, from her doctor's point of view, but I was afraid to ask. I had an appointment with Dr. Cullen again next week. I'd find out then. I wondered if she'd be there.
"Well, that's it," she said when we were done and looked at me expectantly. I jumped off the table and gave her an enthusiastic grin. I was really looking forward to this part. I knew from Bella's stories about her father how much this meant to her, and I was so glad I could do this for her.
"I'll show you the rest of the stadium now," I promised. "The Clubhouse has got to be kind of boring for you," but she shook her head.
"No, not many people get to come down here," she argued. "It's an honor." I shook my head at her modesty and gestured for her to follow me. I led her back past the portraits, and she ignored them this time. She seemed very focused. I showed her the door leading to the dugout, but I wasn't going to take her that way yet. I had it all planned out.
"That's the door to the tunnel. It leads to the dugout. I want to take you on the field last, though. Come on, we'll go up the elevator," I told her. We walked side by side, and it felt companionable. I thought about that night I walked her back to her apartment from the house party, when she tried to walk so fast and leave me behind. This felt better, more equal.
I led her to the elevator and took her up the first floor and the main concourse. This was the riskiest part of our endeavor. I could easily run into fans or anyone, really. This part of the tour hadn't really been cleared with the GM, but she had to see Union Station to appreciate the stadium.
I loved watching her. She looked up and around in wonder at the soaring ceilings and Golden Age décor. Just as I suspected, there were people milling around. I tugged my cap down, hoping to be less conspicuous.
"So, this is the Union Station building," I told her unnecessarily, and she nodded enthusiastically, still looking all around and not at me. I was right to bring her up here, no matter the risk. She loved it. But we needed to go, so I motioned for her to follow me again. I used my keys to open one of the turnstile gates.
She drifted ahead of me to the edge of the concourse and looked out over the field. Even for me, it was weird to see this place empty, the green plastic seats spreading out to the grass at the bottom. It seemed she was reading my thoughts.
"Wow, it's pretty crazy to see real grass in the Astros Stadium," she remarked, and my heart clenched. She was too perfect, perfect for me. My pulse was pounding with desire. I took some deep breaths and was able to see the humor in the fact that a girl talking about grass was a turn on for me. I stepped up close behind her, too close, but I couldn't help myself. I could smell her hair.
"It's Platinum TE Papsalum turf," I explained. I was so close, that I could see her hair moving with my breath. But she didn't step away. "It's genetically engineered, which is why it's so green." I let my inner nerd out, but I'd always felt comfortable doing that with her.
She turned slowly, and I tried not to step back. But in the end, I was close enough to make things weird, so I did. Her expression was skeptical, and I let out a little laugh, a reflection of my mood.
"I have no idea what that means," she admitted, but her expression reminded me of when she'd admitted to loving the boats in Kemah. She'd done so grudgingly, like she was revealing a great weakness. So far today, had been one déjà vu after another. I couldn't help myself; I reached for her hand and tugged her fingers. I got a jolt from her skin, just like always, but she didn't seem to feel it. She didn't pull away. I hoped she was getting used to me again, not that she hadn't noticed. I tried to fight back the insecurity.
"Come on, you'll get a better look from the Center Field Deck," I told her as we headed around the concourse. "It was cutting edge when it was installed a few years ago. Minute Maid was the first park to use it." She still held my hand. I was hyperaware of where we were touching.
I pointed out all the important landmarks, of course realizing she'd seen all this on TV, but it was so much better in person. She seemed particularly taken with the train. Honestly, I considered that thing a bit annoying, but every stadium needed its kitsch. I dropped her hand, because I'd been holding it too long to be normal. She didn't react. I pointed out the vintage gas pump that logged the team's home runs. I wondered if she would comment on the fact that I'd never have another chance at a homerun, given the AL's use of the designated hitter, but she didn't.
I was smiling, thinking of our conversations about that very topic, when she looked back at me with a huge smile on her face, too. It felt like we were the only two people in the world. I pointed up to the roof, eager to share that with her, too.
"Look up," I instructed, and she turned her face away from me and basked in the warm sun shining through the retractable roof. The view of the skyline from here was awesome. "The part of the roof over the outfield is glass, so that you can still see the skyline even when it's closed," I told her, sure she already knew it from watching on TV, but I was babbling with euphoria.
"What do you think?" I asked her, and somehow the mood shifted from playful to intense again.
"It's great, Edward. I'm so glad you've achieved your dreams," she said sincerely, and I felt myself frown a little. I still needed to win here in Houston, on the playing field and in earning her trust again.
"Not quite yet," I pushed the melancholy thoughts away, because there was still so much more that I wanted to show her. "Do you want to go down on the field?" I asked. She nodded enthusiastically, and the mood lightened. I took her through the mezzanine to the private elevator that serviced the Club Level boxes.
"What's on the sixth floor?" she asked, breaking the silence, as we rode the elevator.
"Oh, it's a really nice deck with crazy views of the city," I answered her a bit distractedly because I was anxious to get her out on the field. My two favorite things in one place. "You can rent it out for parties." She hummed but didn't answer, and we walked together back through the tunnel and into the dugout. Then, I motioned for her to climb the steps up to the field. I let her go alone and gave her a moment to process it before I followed her up. I grabbed her hand when I was next to her and tugged her to follow me. There were so many things I wanted to say.
"Come on, you can see much better from out here," I insisted. She came along willingly, and I enjoyed the warmth where our hands were joined. Touching her was better than I'd remembered. I pulled her up on top of the mound next to me when we reached it. I faced home plate and dropped her hand because being here with her was too much again. I felt overwhelmed by it. She seemed to sense something because she leaned her head back unselfconsciously and gazed up at the blue sky above us. A million dollars wouldn't be enough for her thoughts, I decided.
"I haven't pitched from this spot." At least I'd tell her what I was thinking. "That's my dream. So, I'm not quite there yet," I finished wistfully. She looked away from the sky and back at me. Our eyes met and held.
"What about you, Bella? Have you achieved your dreams?" I knew my tone was light years from casual. It took her moment to answer, and her smile disappeared. My heart started to race.
"I don't know," she stuttered, still holding my gaze. The tension was building and almost tangible now. I was drawn to her, and I leaned in and took another step towards her. We were standing too close now for a casual encounter, but she took another step towards me, closing the distance even more. My heart was pounding out of my chest. If I turned my face another inch, my lips would touch hers. I heard her suck in her breath and hold it. I wanted to erase the tiny gulf left between us, but instead I touched her cheek.
"Bella," I whispered into her hair. I didn't know what I was asking, but I knew I couldn't let this go a step further until I'd come clean not just to Bella, but to everyone I'd hurt over the years. It took every ounce of strength I had to step back, but I did it. I paced to the edge of the mound and turned my back on her. I jerked the cap off my head with one hand and ran the other through my hair agitatedly. I muttered a string of curses under my breath to steady myself before I turned back to her.
She hadn't moved, and she looked back at me boldly. Her chin was raised defiantly. I wondered if she was about to tell me off. I gave an apologetic look, but I'm sure it couldn't convey a fraction of the regret I felt right now. I didn't deserve it, but I hoped she would give me a little more time.
"I'm sorry," I pleaded. "I just can't…" I shook my head with frustration. She made a dismissive gesture and interrupted. She seemed almost mad, maybe disgusted. I couldn't tell.
"I understand," she said, then added. "I should go," but she didn't move. I nodded slowly and started to walk off the field, not sure if she wanted to be alone or rid of me. But it didn't feel right to have her behind me. I vowed I would never allow that again. I stopped and waited for her to catch up with me. We walked slowly side-by-side. I dug my hands into my pockets.
"What's happening here, Bella?" I found the courage to ask. Because I needed to know, and I couldn't tell. Did she hate me? Still feel something for me? Just want to be friends?
"I don't know," she admitted, "but I think we need to have a long talk." I let out a giant breath. It sounded like we might be on the same page.
"You're right, but I can't do it now. I need some time to wrap my head around this. There's a lot I need to tell you," I told her. Now that it seemed like we might have a chance, I didn't want to wait another minute, but I needed to do things right this time.
"Of course, so do I," she agreed. I wondered what she could possibly need to explain to me. She'd done nothing wrong in this entire debacle. We walked in silence through the dugout and out the tunnel to the parking lot. We both remained quiet on the short drive back to her apartment complex. I was going crazy the whole time, my mind exploding with all tantalizing possibilities this afternoon had opened up for me. But I had the unpleasant task of setting things right before that happened.
She pulled her old battered gate clicker out of her purse when we pulled up to her dump of a complex. This place was not good enough for her, and I couldn't wait to get her some place nicer. I drove to her corner of the property without direction, knowing the way by heart. I pulled into a spot and cut the engine. I wanted to come up with her, but I knew I shouldn't even try. I turned to face her.
"I don't think it's a good idea for us to work out at the park again. We should meet at Whitlock next week," I told her. We were blurring the line between business and personal, and I wanted to keep things professional on that side. I knew too well how much she liked to keep those two worlds separate. Plus, I'd never set foot in the stadium again without thinking of that almost kiss on the mound. She nodded seriously, like she understood. I got out and walked around the car to open her door. I'd missed the opportunity to be a gentleman earlier today, and I wouldn't do that again.
She got out of the car and just stood there like she didn't know what to do next. I took advantage and leaned in and kissed her forehead. I took a step back, but she stayed where she was, eyes locked on me. It sent a shiver up my spine. It took everything I had to climb back into the car, but even though I needed to do it, I still wasn't ready to drive away and leave it like this.
"Have a good night, Bella, "I called. Then I started my engine and forced myself to back out and drive away. It was difficult to leave now that I'd tasted hope, but what came next would be even worse.
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So next chapter will detail what Edward did that whole week where he was incommunicado with Bella. Hopefully, that' something you would like to know! His "talk" with Bella will come in the next installment, and that will probably be it for now