The Wild Card, page 30
I sit up in bed. “Foster,” I say, but he’s scrambling around the room. “I know it’s scary, but—”
“I’ll call you from the road, but I gotta go.” He throws on a pair of sweatpants and a T-shirt, shoving stuff into his bag.
“Foster…”
He leans over the bed and kisses me briefly on the cheek. “I’ll call you.”
Then he’s out the door, and the condo grows quiet as I lie in his bed naked and embarrassed, tears welling in my eyes.
Which is stupid, because I knew how this would end all along. I only have myself to blame.
CHAPTER
FIFTY-FOUR
Foster
I go down to Decker’s, having nowhere to go until the stadium is open.
He swings open the door, rubbing his eyes, wearing only his boxers.
“Spare me this early in the morning.” I cover my eyes and walk into his condo.
It’s my first time being in his space. Where’s all the candles and soft lighting? This place is all masculine and dark colors. Nothing is overly neat or organized. There’s some stuff lying around, and mail piled up on the table.
“Why are you here?” he asks, not shutting the door in my face like he should.
“Because you already think I’m an asshole.” I go to his living room and sit on the couch since it’s the same layout as my own condo.
“What did you do?”
“Don’t worry about it. Go back to bed, and if anyone calls, you don’t know where I am.”
“Foster…” He stands over me on the couch. “Did you hurt her?”
“What do you think? Of course I fucking did.” I lie down and turn over, putting the pillow under my head. “Your couch sucks ass.”
I hear him breathing over me for at least a full minute before his bedroom door shuts.
Did I want to come to Decker? Hell no. But I meant what I said, he already thinks I’m an asshole, and it’s the last place anyone will look for me.
As I lie on the couch, I pull my phone out of my pocket and press on Callie’s name.
I desperately want to reach out to her and apologize and tell her I can’t be what she needs. That for one brief moment when she said those words, I wished I was anyone but me. I wished I could be one of those guys who could just confess to her that I feel the same.
But I don’t trust that feeling. Every time I’ve ever loved someone, every time anyone has ever said they love me—they’ve left. My mom, my brother, and even my dad, once I cut him off. And they’re my blood. If your blood doesn’t love you, what hope do I have with someone who’s not?
It’s better this way. Better for Callie.
She can find one of those men who are in tune with their feelings and can tell her how awesome and perfect she is without being paralyzed by the thought of losing her just because he loves her.
CHAPTER
FIFTY-FIVE
Callie
There’s a knock on Foster’s condo door, and I swing it open.
Leighton holds up two grocery bags. “Ice cream, pizza, popcorn, chips, Twizzlers, and three bags of Hershey’s bars.”
She steps in and drops the bags, pulling me into a tight hug.
“Today we veg and cry. We’ll figure everything out tomorrow.”
The tears come because how was I so stupid to think that I could be a game-changer for Foster fucking Davis?
CHAPTER
FIFTY-SIX
Foster
Word travels fast because Hayes sat away from me on the bus and the plane. He hasn’t said a word to me today.
When I corner him in the bullpen before the game, seeing Callie’s eyes reflected back at me with the same pain I saw this morning tells me it’s a stupid endeavor to try to explain my side.
“Not yet.” He walks away but turns back around. “I’m not saying never, but I need some space.”
He leaves with McCarthy, and I sit in the chair to watch the game, wondering where she is now.
I don’t get called in until middle of the eighth, and of course the bases are loaded with one out. I reach the mound, and they’re all waiting for me. I’m met with Decker’s usual disapproving glare. Easton can’t even look me in the eye. And Hayes is fuming for good reason.
Ripley hands me the ball.
“Hey, guys, let’s just win the game.” Easton steps in, trying to ease some of the tension, which I suspected he would. “Put the personal shit away and get out of this inning.”
“Just throw a fucking strike.” Hayes turns and walks back to the plate.
“Fuck, man, what happened?” Easton asks. So he doesn’t know. “This is going to tear up the team.”
“Kodiak,” Decker says, in a tone that says shut up.
My jaw clenches. “Stay out of it.”
I throw a warm-up pitch that’s high, making Hayes get up to catch it.
“You have to fix this,” Easton continues.
I whip around before throwing my next pitch and point my glove at him. “Stay the fuck out of it.”
Coach Cal runs onto the field. “Guys, let’s focus on the batter.”
I turn back around.
“We don’t know what happened. Why are you automatically blaming him?” Decker asks.
I’m shocked he’d even question whether I was at fault or not.
I throw another pitch, and it’s inside.
All I can think about is Callie and wanting her and wishing I wasn’t the fuck-up I am.
Somehow, I get out of the eighth, but we go three up and three down, leaving Pittsburgh up one run in the top of the ninth.
We’ve got two outs down when I walk a batter.
Hayes calls time, and I wave him off to go back to the plate, but he comes over anyway.
We step off the mound, and he covers his mouth with his glove. “Get your head out of your ass. I get that you’re all lost in your feelings, but you caused it, so suck it up and actually throw a strike and get us out of this.”
Hayes has never talked to me like this, and I thought he never would.
But what do I expect? I fucked over his little sister.
Blood is always thicker than water, and what does it say that my blood doesn’t want me?
“Why don’t you guys score some runs and make it a little easier for me?”
He shakes his head, and his eyes bleed anger. “It’s always someone else, right? When are you going to actually get over this chip on your shoulder?”
“It’s not a chip.” My words are delivered through clenched teeth.
I should back down. I’m in the wrong here. I’m the one who needs to apologize. I took liberties I shouldn’t have.
“You’re right, it’s a fucking boulder. So you had a shitty childhood. I’m sorry, but it doesn’t give you license to fuck around with other people’s feelings. You hurt her.”
“You think I don’t know that?” I shout.
Art comes up from behind the plate to interrupt and get us playing, but I want this over with. I want to have this out with Hayes for reasons I don’t understand, but I want it over and done with.
“Go back.” I point at Art to go back behind home plate, but he keeps coming. I step toward him, arm still extended. “Art, go the fuck back, we’ll be done in a second.”
“Foster,” he says, shaking his head. “This is a warning.”
Ripley steps out of the dugout, on the line ready to call time and cross, but I point to him to stay back too.
Decker jogs over, puts his hand on my chest, and I fling it off.
“Everyone, just go back to your positions, and I’ll fucking throw the ball.”
“Stop it,” Hayes says, but why would I stop now?
After all, I’m Foster fucking Davis. I fuck up everything. This is what I do. This is who I am, right?
Art continues to approach me. He waves Ripley in, and he crosses the first base line, joining our party.
“You better calm down, Foster,” Art tells me.
“Fuck off.” I spit off to the side, into the grass.
“Out!” he yells, making the ejection signal.
I chuck the ball into centerfield. “Happy to.”
“Davis!” Ripley shouts. “Get in the locker room. Now!”
Fuck all of them. I walk through the dugout and right into the locker room, throwing my glove as hard as I possibly can.
I pull my phone out of the safe in the locker. I sometimes carry it with me, but I didn’t want to be tempted to contact Callie or read our text threads again.
There are two messages waiting for me.
Jagger Kale: Way to lose the endorsement. They’re not interested in you anymore.
The other one makes my heart stop for a second.
Callie: I’ll survive, don’t flatten your career on my account.
She hs no business messaging me, showing once again that she’s way too good for a fuck-up like me.
CHAPTER
FIFTY-SEVEN
Callie
At least if Foster was going to break my heart, he did it right before he’s gone for a week.
“Cal!” Leighton calls, and I meet her in the foyer of Foster’s place. “Hey.” She drops the empty boxes in her hands and wraps her arms around me. “We’re going to be okay. We’re going to rock this single parenthood thing. And I don’t want to hear it—you’re staying in our guest room for the foreseeable future.”
She hugs me so tightly, I almost believe her that the pain will fade.
“It’s only until I find a place.” I pick up the boxes and go into my bedroom.
“Hayes wants you to stay. Says he wants to be a hands-on uncle.” She goes to my dresser and fills a box with my clothes.
I don’t say anything.
“How was this morning?” she asks hesitantly.
I shrug. “I pretended that I like Foster too.”
My taping with the fourth guest Foster secured for me was earlier today. I didn’t tell Lex anything was going on, and I pretended to be as happy as I normally am as I chatted with the sports reporter who was involved in a scandal because she had a relationship with her boss. She talked about how cruel the internet is, which I understood perfectly. But also about how she found love, and she didn’t want to apologize for that. It was a real feel-good story. Had I interviewed her before Foster ran out on me, I would’ve probably been even more delusional afterward that Foster and I could ride off into the sunset together.
“I think my fifth interview will have to be one of the guys. I don’t want Foster’s help anymore.”
“That’s right, we’re not taking anything else from him.” She points at me with an intense expression on her face.
“Okay, we can’t hate the guy, he is this one’s father.” I rub my stomach as I’ve been doing constantly for the past two days, as if I’m consoling the baby too. “It’s bad enough that he’ll bomb his own career.”
“Hayes said he’s suspended.”
When I heard the news earlier, my heart sank, followed immediately by me wishing I wasn’t still so invested in him. I should say go to hell and be done with him, but part of me knows that the Foster Davis I saw is the real one and that he’s just scared. But it doesn’t make it hurt any less.
Then again, what does that say about me? Did I not show him how safe he is with me like he did for me?
“Two games, right?”
She sits on my bed. “Yeah.”
I continue to pack my things. I can’t believe how at home I’ve become here in just a few months.
“You know I want to burn him at the stake and all that for hurting you, but at the same time, I feel so bad for him. I mean… he’s clearly scared,” Leighton says.
I turn and glare at her.
She holds up her hands. “I said I want to burn him at the stake. But I think he really is a good guy. From what I gather, he didn’t have a great childhood. At least not one where he felt he could be himself.”
I sit on the bed with her, grabbing a pillow and hugging it. “He hasn’t really told me much except that the issue with him and Decker started because their parents split them up. There’s animosity there. But he’s trying to live like it doesn’t affect him, like it didn’t shape him.”
That’s basically common knowledge in our group, and I won’t say anything more than that. Certainly not what he told me about college. I may be irate with him, but I would never betray his trust.
“Don’t take this the wrong way, but I don’t think you understand what it’s like not to be raised in a perfect family.” I open my mouth to refute her statement, but she holds up her hands again. “I’m not suggesting that you haven’t gone through things, and you don’t have your own wounds. It’s not even something that you should feel bad about. It’s wonderful that you and Hayes can’t empathize in that way. But when you’re young and bad things happen… when you don’t feel safe, you believe the lies. Both the ones you tell yourself, and the ones other people tell you. Kind of like Rebound Callie.”
I stare at the pillow, my hands running along the edge.
“I think it was poor judgment on his part not to deal with it before getting into a relationship with you,” she says.
“We weren’t in a relationship.” I look at her.
She pushes my leg with her hand. “Callie, you guys can tell yourselves whatever you want, but you were in a relationship. You were openly kissing and hugging and holding hands. You can only have sex with someone for so long before intimacy sneaks into the mix. I think that’s what happened with you guys. You thought you could play it safe, but you fell in love. You wrapped your head around it and put yourself out there, and he ran. But for the record, I do think he loves you. I’m just not sure he’ll ever come to terms with it. And that’s why I feel sorry for him. He’ll live a very lonely life if he can’t get out of his own way.”
Tears push at my eyes, but I suck them back. “Let’s just get this packed up. I don’t want to be here when they get back.” I drop the pillow and get back to packing up my stuff.
“I think you should take the couch,” she says, getting off the bed.
“When I leave here, I’m not taking anything that would remind me of him.” I look down at my stomach. “I already have a piece of him forever. I kind of hope brown really is dominant so this baby comes out with my eyes.”
She frowns, and her shoulders fall.
I shake my head at her. “Nope, no tears today. We’re moving on.”
We work to pack up the room, not saying much, but then Leighton says, “Hey, Cal, just do one thing for me?”
I look at her.
“Don’t build that wall back up, okay? This is on Foster and has nothing to do with you. You’re worth it, and it’s his loss. It was really beautiful the way you loved him so freely.”
Tears prick my eyes again, threatening to fall.
How can the biggest heartbreak I’ve ever felt not crush me? But then again, I have a little one who needs my love, so I’ll pour all of mine into him or her.
CHAPTER
FIFTY-EIGHT
Foster
What a banner week. Two-game suspension, a blown endorsement, and now I’m back to face what I’ve done.
Decker and Easton peel off to head to their condos, and I continue up the stairs to my own. My finger hovers over my keypad because I have no idea what I’ll find when I get inside.
I didn’t message Callie while I was away because I didn’t want to have the conversation over the phone. Hayes warmed up a bit as the days went on. At least he’s being cordial now, but it’s not like it was.
I punch in my code, and when I push the door open, the consequences of my actions hit me square in the face.
There’s no candle scent.
No soft glow of a lamp.
No throw blanket over the couch.
Most of all, there’s no Callie.
It’s as if all the life has been drained from this place. It’s an empty shell, a husk of what was.
I cross the room and push open her bedroom door to find it empty like before she moved in.
You really did it this time. Fucked up good.
Why did I think she’d even entertain staying here after how I acted?
The couch feels like a beacon of loneliness, so I lean against the wall and slide down onto my ass, my arms resting on my knees and my head falling forward so my chin hits my chest.
I’m so mad at myself. I want to destroy the condo. Lash out. Take a knife and shred the couch so it matches my shredded heart.
For the millionth time, I wish I could do it over. That when she looked up at me with so much love and vulnerability, I didn’t crush her. I could have stayed, talked it out, but I ran—like a fucking coward. An undeserving coward.
I hear the electronic beep of the keypad at my door. Someone is punching in the code. I scramble to my feet and jog over to the door, but when it opens, it’s Hayes and Leighton.
“Hey,” Hayes says. From the pity in his eyes, I know he can see my disappointment that he’s not his sister. “Yeah, she’s not coming.”
I nod. “She moved out?” I look at Leighton.
She nods. “She’ll be with us at least until the baby comes.”
I inhale a sharp breath and go back to the living room, but instead of sitting on the couch, I go back to the floor.
“There something wrong with the couch?” Hayes asks, about to sit on it.
“It’s a thing with them.” Leighton makes a gesture like he should sit.
“Like I shouldn’t sit on it?” He turns to inspect the couch.
“Just sit.” Leighton rolls her eyes.
“Listen…” Hayes starts off the conversation.
I brace myself for a lecture I really don’t want. I already know I fucked up. I know I’m at fault. I know I’m the puppeteer of my own misery.
