Matteo’s eyes narrowed in the mirror as he shifted his view from the road to Cassie and back again. She looked shocked, her face losing color. “Oh. Right.”
I reached for her chin, turning her to face me as her blonde hair spilled down around my hand. “Those other guys, they can cheat all they want. But I won’t. I’ve learned my lesson. I don’t even go into the hotel bars anymore. I refuse to put myself in that position ever again. And I’ll ask to be on the wives’ floor every road trip if that will make you happy.”
I tapped my foot against the floor mat, nervous energy running through my veins as she turned away from me. I waited for her to respond. “Cass?” Her eyes met mine. “Say something. Anything.”
“I don’t have anything to say.”
“You always have something to say. Just say it. Please talk to me,” I begged. This girl brought me to my knees, and I’d fall to the floor willingly for her every single time.
She swallowed before inhaling deeply, “I just think it sucks. Obviously management knows that cheating goes on and by putting the wives on separate floors, it’s like they condone it. I just don’t understand why the integrity they demand from you guys on the field isn’t demanded once you’re off it?”
“It’s not that, babe. The cheating is going to happen no matter what anyone says. The wives eventually started asking to be put on different floors. They didn’t want to see girls coming out of their friends’ husbands’ rooms.”
The car slowed to a roll before coming to a stop altogether. In the height of the conversation, I’d almost forgotten where we were. Matteo exited the car before I could stop him, opening our door and extending a hand to Cass. He pulled her with care from the backseat, guiding her toward the building entrance by placing his hand on her shoulder.
“Thank you,” she said politely.
“Thanks, man.” I reached out for Matteo’s hand and gripped it tight. He gripped it just as firmly in response, and I fought the urge to squeeze it until his bones popped. If this was some sort of pissing contest we were having, I’d be the one winning. “See you tomorrow?”
“Absolutely. Good night and good luck.” He raised an eyebrow, and I patted his back.
“Thanks.”
We walked through the lobby, saying hello to Fred before taking the elevator up to our apartment. Once through the front door I emptied the loose change from my pockets onto the table. I sorted through it, grabbing all the quarters and removing them from the pile.
“What are you doing?” she asked, peering around the refrigerator door at me.
“Taking out the quarters.”
“Whyyyy?” she asked, dragging out the y sound for emphasis.
“You know why,” I said with a wink.
“Humor me.”
“I don’t spend quarters anymore, Kitten. They all get saved and put in that box right over there.” I pointed to the box filled with quarters Fred delivered that night, sitting on the shelf.
“I owe you a lot of touches, Mr. Carter.”
“You’re telling me. Why do you think I keep adding to the box?”
She laughed, and I watched her face light up before I took her smile away. “Now that we’re alone, will you please tell me what’s wrong? I know you’re tired, but something else happened tonight. What was it?” She hesitated, and I sensed she didn’t want to tell me. “Cass. Please. I’m starting to go a little fucking crazy here. Did someone hurt you?”
“No.” She shook her head, her eyes avoiding mine. “No one hurt me.”
“I know something happened. I can see it in your face. There might not be bruises this time, but I can see it just the same.”
She winced at my bringing up the mugging. We barely talked about that night, partly because they caught the guy, but mostly because it made me uncontrollably pissed off. I could barely think about that night, the way she looked and the way she trembled in my arms, without wanting to break into jail and kill that asshole with my bare hands.
I searched my memory for anything I might have said or done recently to piss her off. “Why the fuck are you making me drag it out of you like this? Just talk to me!” My irritation started to build as my tone escalated.
Why wouldn’t she just fucking talk to me? “Dammit, Cassie, just spit it out! Are you pissed at me? Did I do something wrong?”
My phone beeped, signaling a text message. Irritated, I grabbed it and slammed my finger against the buttons.
Cass will kill me for sending you this Jack, but you need to see it. It’s from tonight’s game.
Attached to my little brother’s text was a picture of Cassie getting a cup of beer thrown at her back.
I Don’t Need a Babysitter
Cassie
I hated that Jack instantly thought it was something he did. I didn’t want to tell him about the fans. Or the wives. Or any of it, really. The last thing he needed to do was to worry about me when he was on the field. Baseball was his job, not some hobby he played for fun on the weekend. I didn’t want to be the kind of girl that distracted him, and suddenly, I would do anything to avoid him seeing me as a burden. The stadium was filled with thousands of people every night. It’s not like he could stop them from saying whatever they wanted to me.
Jack was growing agitated, and I needed to tell him something. I remembered the last time I kept my feelings from him back in college. That first away game episode was a complete disaster. The two cell phone pictures that girl had shown me where Jack and some brunette were walking into a hotel room looked pretty damming. I convinced myself that Jack was cheating on me while his team played in Texas, and I refused to answer his phone calls or texts until he basically lost his shit on everyone around him. Turns out the brunette from the pictures was there to see Brett, Jack’s roommate for the weekend, but I’d never given him a chance to tell me any of that until he returned from the road trip completely pissed off at me. Had I learned nothing from that?
His phone beeped, and I watched his demeanor change from irritation to something else entirely. “Kitten,” his voice practically whispered as his eyes burned with a mixture of rage and sadness.
As I leaned against the cold granite countertop, I didn’t know what to say. I wasn’t sure where to start.
“What happened tonight?” He was instantly at my side, his lips burying themselves against my neck. I sensed his restraint. He was trying desperately to keep his calm, but my hesitation in answering his question tested his resolve.
I swallowed the lump in my throat before turning to face him. “Um, your fans are mean sometimes, and the wives on the team are really bitchy.” I cringed with my admission.
Jack’s body tensed, his hands balling into fists. “Getting beer thrown all over you is more than mean, Cass.”
“How’d you know about the beer?”
He slid his cell phone toward me. “Dean.” I nodded, knowing that not even Melissa could have stopped Dean from sending Jack that picture.
“What else?” He asked through gritted teeth and I played dumb.
“What else, what?”
“What else has been happening during the games? And stop trying to protect me, or whatever twisted thing you think you’re doing ’cause I’m about to fucking come undone.”
“The fans heckle me sometimes.”
“What do you mean, they heckle you? Heckle you how?”
“A couple guys just said some things about the pictures that have been printed is all.” I looked away from his eyes as they narrowed. I tried to make my voice sound nonchalant, like it was all blown out of proportion, but Jack didn’t buy it.
“What pictures?” His voice sounded bitter and confused.
It suddenly occurred to me that Jack hadn’t been alerted to any of them. Of course he hadn’t. It’s not like he bothered reading the press, and if Dean didn’t tell him, then who else would? The team’s press and public relations departments stayed out of anything that didn’t have to do with the team or a player directly. Anything that only regarded me wouldn’t come up.
“That picture Meli texted me the other night was printed in the newspaper the next morning. And there have been a few others since then.” I purposely avoided bringing up the one of my flipping off the crowd.
“Are you fucking kidding me?”
“No,” I said, staring straight past him, my gaze focused on the wall.
“Anything else that you’re not telling me?”
My eyes refocused on his dark irises, and then I blinked them closed before the next confession. I exhaled a slow breathe, “Someone tried to spit on me last night. But that’s it.”
“Oh, that’s it?” He shook his head in disbelief before throwing his hands in the air. “This is not OK. This is not fucking OK.” He reached for me, his body shaking with anger as he pulled me against his chest. He wrapped his arms tightly around my waist before resting his head against mine. “You can’t keep this stuff from me. I can’t stop it if I don’t know it’s happening. You have to let me in.”
“I didn’t want to burden you.” I admitted, feeling sort of stupid once I said the words out loud.
He squeezed my body hard against his. “You are never a burden. Do you hear me?” he asked, tilting my face up to his. His eyes squeezed closed before reopening. “I can’t believe this is happening to you. I’m so sorry, Kitten.” He started pacing, pulling at his jet-black hair as guilt washed through me.
This is exactly what I didn’t want to happen. For Jack to be so worried about me that he couldn’t think straight. “Don’t be sorry, Jack. It’s not your fault. And I’m not unsafe. There’s security everywhere. Please, don’t do this to yourself. Don’t worry about me. I’ll be fine.” I performed my best impression of an overly confident girlfriend, but inside I was choking. The truth was, I hadn’t felt entirely safe, and I wasn’t sure how fine I’d be.
“Don’t worry about you?” He laughed and huffed at the same time. “That’s like asking the Chrysler Building to not be tall!”
I loved Jack’s passion for me, but I longed to calm him. I wanted to be the one person on this earth who could bring him peace and serenity, not agitation with my presence.
“Maybe Matteo should go to the games with you,” he suggested slowly, before becoming more excited as the idea sunk in. “Yeah,” he nodded. “That’s it. Matteo will go with you to the games.”
“What? That’s crazy. You can’t ask him to do that. He’s our driver, not our babysitter.”
“Why are you so stubborn? I would rather know you’re safe and with someone like Matteo, than alone and vulnerable in a giant stadium where everyone knows exactly where you sit.”
“No. This is ridiculous.” And I didn’t know why I was fighting, honestly, because it was a brilliant idea, and I already felt more settled at the very thought of someone like Matteo by my side. He was strong and intimidating, and I knew he’d fight to keep me safe. I honestly believed he’d do anything Jack asked him to do.
