Moonshot(53)

I loved Tobey. Another man shouldn’t be able to tempt you when you loved your husband. But love felt like a flat emotion with Tobey, something that had grown with time, a winding of two lives, built on a foundation of friendship and respect. I was attracted to him. We had sex, a more active life than most couples. We had all of those building blocks that make a marriage strong … yet one touch from Chase, and I’d crumbled. One moment of eye contact and I’d broken. One hour of throwing a ball with him and I’d been ready to pack up everything and leave my husband.

What kind of woman was I?

What kind of love did that?

Regardless of the reasons, or of my justifications, this entire situation was wrong. It was a black hole, each day with Tobey pushing me deeper, my claw to the surface, to the maintenance of my marriage, getting harder and harder.

I had to go to the fields that night. Not to see him, but just for a breather. I was a drowning woman, and needed my field, my grass, my dirt. I needed to pound up a flight of stadium stairs and stand in front of an eighty-mile per hour pitching machine. I needed a release, or else I just might go crazy.





80



The ending of everything didn’t come quickly. Pieces of my life flaked off, caught by the wind and scattered, too quickly for me to capture. It didn’t matter; I didn’t want to capture them. I stood in the wind, arms outstretched, and willed it to happen.

Maybe that made me selfish. Maybe that made me smart.

This time, I saw Chase before Titan did, his shape dark, way out by the bullpen. I could have left, gone to a different part of this enormous complex. Or called security and asked them to clear the field. I didn’t. I stepped out onto the damp grass, and jogged toward him, Titan loping ahead, his ears up, gait relaxed.

“Hey.” He tossed a ball toward me as I approached.

I caught it and hefted it back. “Hey.”

“Had given up on you coming.”

“Yet you’re here.”

“Oh, you thought I came here to see you?” He smirked, and my heart soared. “Not a chance.”

“Yeah,” I huffed. “Me either.”

“So now that we’re not here together, want to catch?”

I shrugged, glancing around the field. “I thought I’d go for a run. Knock out some cardio.”

“Want some company?”

I gave him an obvious once-over, my eyes clinging to the curve of his biceps, the strength of his stance. “Think you can keep up?”

His grin widened, and Colgate could sell a million tubes off those teeth. “Yeah, I think I’ll do just fine.”

I tossed the ball toward his bucket and whistled for Titan.

And just like that, we were another step deeper, another bit of my world crumbling off.





I had become a runner. The annoying type who held their breath as they passed others, out of pure competitive spite. One of those who kept Nikes in the back of my SUV, just in case I got a free moment with a treadmill. I’d run over every inch of this complex, down empty hallways and through boardrooms. I’d explored the visitors’ locker rooms, our kitchens, and the press boxes. But I’d never gone through the gate where Chase stopped.

“What are you doing?” I jogged in place, lungs starting to warm, our run only just begun.

“Come on.” He nodded his head, holding open the gate. The gate that led off property. Into the Bronx.

If we took it, we’d pass the Julie Gavin gate. Pictures from the police report flashed through my mind, a flipbook of dark blood, white skin, blonde hair matted, eyes open and unseeing. The killer had underlined the name on the back of the jersey, STERN punctuated with one long line of her blood. “I can’t go out there.” Titan growled beside me, my indignant tone putting him on alert.

“Can’t?” His eyes narrowed. “Grant got you on a leash?”

I stopped jogging, my feet unsteady when they stopped. “Don’t be ridiculous.”

He took a step out, his hand still holding the door, fingers barely gripping it as if he was about to let go. “Then come on.”

“It’s not safe,” I protested.

His face hardened. “I’ll kill someone before they touch you. And if I die trying, Killer there will finish them off.” He nodded to Titan.

The Bronx, in itself, was probably fine. It certainly felt safe enough, during the day, in our chauffeured rides to and from the stadium. But at one and two in the morning, when I was driving out here, I locked my car doors. Didn’t make eye contact at red lights. On foot, on a non-game day … I shifted. Bounced once on my toes to keep my blood flow moving. Watched Chase’s eyes drop to the open neck of my pullover. I zipped it up higher, and his eyes rose to mine, his mouth curving a little. “Or are you scared of something else?” He turned, gripping the other gatepost, blocking the exit as he stared me down. “Worried you can’t control yourself without eyes on you?” He glanced up briefly, at the security cam in the corner, his meaning clear.

I was too old to be goaded into submission. I should walk away, continue my run in my safe little stadium, the guards watching, my dog following, my virtue protected. Through that gate, there was nothing for me but danger.

I turned away and reached for the phone on the wall. It rang to security and my conscience warred.