Chapter 13
Javier Morales is a fucking dead man.
No doubt about it. I’m going to commit murder.
Do they have conjugal visits in prison, or is that just a myth they have in television shows and movies? I wonder if Layla will come visit me. I’ll obviously have to admit our full history, but one has to hope I’d get a conjugal out of murdering her rapist.
That man fucking raped her.
I am so furious, and so incredibly livid, I’m shaking.
I’ve always been big on consent. Sex is a two-way street in my book.
When a man and woman agree on the parameters of a sexual relationship, it only enhances the experience in my opinion.
Yeah, I like control. But if I’m with a woman who can’t handle that, obviously I’m going to change up my m.o.
I’ll never understand why men get off on raping a woman.
To think that Layla had the guts to speak to Atlanta about what Morales did, and they didn’t believe her? God, I want to burn their entire ballpark to the ground.
After I murder Morales, of course.
If I’m gonna go down, let’s have it be in a blaze of glory. Murder and arson.
“Okay, I’m ready for bed,” Layla whispers, turning off the bathroom light as she steps back into the hotel room.
She’s pale and clearly exhausted, but still so beautiful it hurts.
Her silver eyes are full of pain, but I see the moment of relief when I open my arms, and she comes into them willingly.
“What would make you the most comfortable?” I ask quietly. “I’d like to hold you, but if you’d rather I just be here in support, that’s completely fine. Whatever you need, Lay.”
She’s quiet for a moment, her head resting against my chest, arms tightly around my waist. When she finally speaks, her voice is tentative.
“I think I’d like you to hold me, but I can’t guarantee I’ll want to stay put.
I very much like my own space while sleeping, and I don’t know if I’ll fall asleep cuddled against you. You’re really hot.”
I chuckle. “Well, thank you.”
Layla snorts. “I meant temperature, you goofball.”
“I know. But it’s good to hear you laugh a little.”
She squeezes my waist, then drops her arms to step away.
I wait until she’s picked which side of the bed she wants, and I’m thankful she’s chosen the side furthest from the door.
I’ll sleep better knowing I’m between her and the door.
“I’m going to grab my phone and charger, then I’ll be right back. ”
“Okay.”
Jogging into my room, I grab my stuff, ensure the exterior door is locked tightly, then check Layla’s as well.
Satisfied, I approach the bed, momentarily taken aback at how beautiful she looks.
I shouldn’t feel like this. I need to stop thinking of Layla as more than just a friend or employee of the team.
Even if I know there’s more to us than just chemistry, she doesn’t want it, so I have to accept that.
After plugging in my phone and turning off the light, I slide in next to Layla. She immediately cuddles into my side, resting her head on my chest again, and I slide one arm around her securely. “You comfortable?”
“Uh-huh,” she murmurs. We’re quiet for a few moments, both lost to our own thoughts. Suddenly, she speaks. “Max?”
“Yeah.”
“I really wanted you to kiss me tonight,” she whispers.
Fuck. “I really wanted to kiss you, too.”
“But I don’t think I’m in a place where I can handle what kissing you might mean.”
I nod and kiss the top of her head. I feel like it’s the only kiss I can give, and I hope it brings her a sliver of peace. “I know. It’s okay, Peaches. I can be your friend. I think we might both need that now more than any kissing.”
“Thank you,” she says with a yawn. “You’re a really good guy. Much as it pains me to admit.”
I chuckle against her hair, loving the sweet scent that fills my nostrils. “Sorry to disappoint you.”
“It’s okay,” she murmurs. “I like this version of you better than the one I met months ago. I only want to poison you with laxatives once or twice a week now.”
“Good to know.” Smiling, I think back to when we first met before Christmas, and how it was clear from the beginning that Layla was going to change my life, whether I liked it or not.
And when I feel her body relax, and her breathing deepen, I admit my greatest secret.
“I’d let you poison me, sweet girl, if it meant I could still fall in love with you. ”
“Yo,” Holloway calls as I trudge into the locker room. “Where the fuck were you last night? How did you miss the chaos in the hallway, and why didn’t you come down for breakfast this morning?”
Yawning, I look at Jake. “I heard everything in the hallway, but didn’t open my door because you’d have all witnessed me murder that asshole, and then you’d have been complicit in the crime. And I slept like shit, so I didn’t eat breakfast.”
I wait for the kid to ask more questions, but he silently studies me.
“Dude, you’re freaking me out,” I finally admit, laughing when Jake doesn’t even smile. “What’s with the attitude?”
He leans in close, then hisses, “Are you and Layla together? Is that why you didn’t go into the hallway?”
“Jesus, man, no!” Grabbing him by the shirt, I pull him deeper into the room, where no one else can hear.
For a young guy, Jake is oddly perceptive, and clearly he’s reading some of my nonverbal cues to recognize how I feel about Layla.
“I’m not with her. But I knew something happened with Morales, and I caught him before the game yesterday pinning her against the wall.
So yeah, if I’d gone out into the hallway last night, I’d have murdered him, and I wouldn’t have been remorseful at all. ”
“What happened with him?” Jake asks.
“Not my story to tell. But I believe what she told me. He’s an asshole.”
“Why isn’t she here?” he asks.
“Coach felt it was best to have her stay back at the hotel.”
“So he knows everything?” he asks, and I nod. “Good. At least she’s got support. Did they date or something? I’ll admit, I looked up if there was an overlap, and I saw they were both with Atlanta for a year.”
I sigh, thinking what I can safely say without damaging Layla’s trust. “They did not date. Please trust me. He’s a complete jackass.”
Suddenly, Jake’s eyes widen. “Holy shit. You fucking aimed for him last night! Dude. That is fucking awesome.”
“Shhh,” I hiss. “Let’s not broadcast that, alright? If anyone asks, it was a terrible accident, and I most certainly did not smile as I managed to stretch a single into a triple because I broke his balls.”
Jake cackles. “And he still had the audacity to show up at her hotel room last night? What a loser. How did he find out what room she was in?”
“I have no idea. I assume Coach will look into it.”
“I couldn’t believe it when I heard him shouting. You might have broken his balls, but they apparently were balls of steel. He literally thought he could strut right down to her room, and none of us would know.”
I shrug. “I don’t know what he knew. He may have thought we were on a different floor, or that we’d switched hotels or something. He’s a dumbass and a major tool.”
“Hey,” Dante Russo says as he walks up to us. “Layla okay?”
“Why?” I snap.
He throws his hands up in defense. “Just asking. Seems like the two of you are close. Did you stay with her last night? How’s she doing today?”
Jackson Archer and Ryder Sullivan approach, and Ryder speaks up. “Yeah. We were wondering if maybe we should take turns sleeping outside her door or something.”
I lower my voice. “I stayed with her last night. She’s a little freaked out, but not hysterical or anything. Dude’s an asshole. I walked up on him with his hand around her neck before the game yesterday.”
“Jesus,” Dante breathes. “So which one of us gets to fuck him up today?”
Surprised, I turn to him. “You’re ready to go on the offensive? Just from what I’ve said?”
He shrugs. “He fucked with one of our own. That’s what families are for.”
Jake slings an arm around my shoulders. “Bridge Point isn’t the only family-centered team, asshole. If you give us a chance, you’ll see we’re pretty awesome too.”
I chuckle. “I told Layla that. Seems like she’s had the short end of the stick in the League, and I said it seemed like the Raptors were a stand-up team. From the conversation with Coach last night, I’m even more convinced she’s going to get the support she should have gotten years ago.”
“So this is a recurring theme with Morales?” Dante asks, and I nod. “He’s a piece of work. Always chirping shit from the field. I have no problem teaching him a lesson. Seems like he needs to be tripped if he makes it on base.”
Dante is a third baseman, so tripping Morales could potentially keep the jackass from scoring. “Remember to keep it somewhat clean, so the umps don’t assume it was intentional.”
Dante scoffs. “You think this is the first time I’ve tripped someone? Please.”
A few hours later, I’m close to charging across the field because Morales will not shut up. He’s taunting us at bat, on base, and even from the bench. The Houston coach has had to reprimand him multiple times, and I’ve run out of patience.
“I’ll take the suspension,” I murmur to Coach. “Let me go get one punch in.”
“No.”
“Come on. Why not?” I whine, throwing my hands up in frustration. “He’s an asshole, and he needs to be pushed down a peg or four.”
Coach turns to me, leaning in so I’m the only one who hears his response. “Because it’ll be way too clear that you’ve got a thing for our nutritionist, and that won’t fly with management or the owners. I’m trying to protect you, Callahan. Take some deep breaths, and try to control your temper.”
“I don’t have a thing for her,” I say defensively, and he raises an eyebrow at me. “What? I don’t.”
He laughs humorlessly. “You have no poker face. I’m surprised you didn’t bust out into the hallway last night to stake your claim.”
“Whatever,” I mutter. Coach is full of shit. It can’t be that obvious that I have a thing for Layla, right? I mean, I told her I’m a bad liar, but that’s mostly about how I lie, not about how I look when I lie. You’re telling me everyone knows when I lie just because of my face? Fan-fucking-tastic.
At the bottom of the ninth, there are two outs, and we’re up by one.
Morales is at the plate. I find myself wondering if Layla is watching the game, and I almost miss a high fly ball that drops between me and first base.
Morales laughs as he rounds first base, and when I reach the ball, he’s almost at second.
I launch it to Dante at third, then watch gleefully as he tags Morales out, but somehow their cleats get tied up.
Morales seems to fall in slow motion as Dante tries to jump to avoid him and kicks one of Morales’s feet in the process.
Morales slams down into the splits and howls in pain.
If it were anyone else, I’d feel bad. But there isn’t one ounce of remorse in my body as I jog past him to our bench, high-fiving all of my teammates. Sometimes karma is a friend, not a foe.
“I see we’re finally understanding the team dynamic here,” Coach murmurs as I pass him with a fist bump. “Let’s try not to break any of his bones tomorrow night, alright? It’ll be a little too obvious he’s being targeted.”
“I make no promises,” I say cheerfully, skipping down the hall to the visitor’s locker room.
Jake gives me a fist bump as I enter, then hands me the Raptor hat we present to a new player each game.
I got it last night for my line drive into Morales.
“Clearly gotta give this to Russo for getting all tied up at the end!”
Loud cheers erupt as Dante grabs the hat from me, placing it on his head with a wide smile. “I’ve been told I have to say it was just an unlucky accident when Morales tripped, and totally wasn’t intentional because he’s an asshole.”
“Hate that guy,” someone murmurs.
“Justice for Layla!” another shouts.
“Alright!” Coach yells as he comes into the room, and everyone quiets down.
“Before we allow any reporters in here, let me make this clear — no more incidents with Morales. As much as I’d love to see you unleash hell on that piece of shit, if he plays tomorrow night, we play clean. Do we understand?”
“If he plays tomorrow night?” I ask.
Coach’s lips twitch as he fails to hide a smile. “He may have a pulled hamstring and may be listed as day-to-day.”
“Oh no,” Jake says with a fake scowl. “Poor guy. I’m just so sad he might have been hurt. Karma’s a bitch, ain’t it?”
It is indeed.
“Callahan,” Coach barks, his eyes on his phone.
“Yeah, Coach?” I ask as I sidle next to him.
He lowers his voice. “This is as far as it goes with Morales. You understand me? The team GM just texted me. He wanted to know what is going on between the two of you. Asked if it had anything to do with Layla, since someone from the team reported back to him that Morales showed up at the hotel last night.”
“Shit,” I mutter. Clearly, I’m a worse liar than I thought. “I promise I won’t interact with Morales anymore.”
He leans in. “Give Layla a little space, too. You’re walking a narrow line right now.”
I nod, but I already know I won’t be giving her even an inch of extra space.