Page 9 of Broken Love (Love 2)
"You can take the brownies with you," I offer, trying to appease her, but needing her to leave. I need to be alone for this.
She pretends to be put off, but grabs the pan and her purse. "I'm out. See you tomorrow, boss."
I clutch my phone to my chest and wait for her to leave, before going to sit outside. I take in my view of the Hollywood Hills and contemplate what I meant.
Me: I was apologizing for giving you the scar. For throwing a curling iron at you. What if I would have hit your eye or something?
Cade: Oh, okay.
I can feel the disappointment in his reply.
Me: Honestly, Cade, I've owed you an apology for a long time. Not just for the curling iron, but for everything.
Cade: It's nice to feel like you don't hate me anymore.
Me: I never hated you.
Cade: Sorry to cut our conversation short, but I have to step into a meeting. I was just thinking about you. About us. About what you said. It got me wondering. Take care, Palmer.
I cover my mouth with my hand, fighting back the tears. All my emotions from this week mix with the ones from the past. The regret, the sadness, and the pain still feeling way too fresh.
But mostly it's the way he ended the conversation. Take care, Palmer sounds like goodbye forever. And even though I've managed fine without him, I think I always held a flicker of hope.
I break down and cry, knowing that hope was just extinguished.
October 28th
Cade
I'm at an industry event talking business with one of my biggest clients, actress Keatyn Douglas, who is just back from her honeymoon.
"So, are you and Aiden really going to live full-time in Sonoma, making wine and babies?"
"Yes, we are. What about you? Isn't it time you settle down? I always thought you'd marry Palmer."
"I did, too," I mutter.
"Cade, don't let life get in the way of your happiness. Do you know what I'm saying?"
"Our love is all that matters?" I tease, reciting a line from the movie trilogy based on her life.
"Exactly. Speaking of love," she says, glancing down at her phone. "Aiden says he managed to snag a table at the bar. What do you say we go watch the game?"
"That sounds good. So, how's married life?" I ask as we exit the hotel ballroom.
"Amazing." My phone buzzes, prompting her to say, "I think you're ringing."
I pull my phone out.
"It's Carter. Hang on." I answer the phone. "Hey, what's up?" I say to my brother.
"Are you watching the game?" he asks.
"Keatyn and I were just heading down to the bar to catch some of it. Are you there? Who's winning?"
"Yeah, I'm at the game. Cade, Pike just got hurt. It's bad."
I rush to the bar.
People are gathered around the television screens, and I hear an announcer say, Due to the graphic nature of the injury, we aren't able to replay it.
"What happened?" I ask Aiden, whose table I sit down at, and Carter who is still on the phone.
Aiden shoves his phone in front of me and plays me a video of the accident.
It is graphic.
Pike was pitching. A ground ball is hit to the first baseman. Pike leaves the pitcher's mound to make the play at first. The batter steps on his outstretched leg as they are both racing for the bag.
I wince upon seeing the ankle bend in a way that it's not supposed to and then break.
"Oh, shit. That's not good," I say aloud. "Has to be heartbreaking for him. It's his first World Series."
"I'm more concerned about his life," Carter says in my ear. "They are still out on the field trying to get him stabilized."
"Stabilized? Why?"
"It's an open compound fracture, and the bone is protruding through the skin. There's blood loss, and he's gone into shock, but that's not why I called. Palmer was in the same box with me. She's freaking out. Said she couldn't watch. She's out in the hallway. The medics surrounded him, but we're on the first baseline and could see very clearly what happened."
"Will you drive her to the hospital, Carter? Please. I don't want her driving herself."
"Of course, I will."
I hear him say, "This is for you."
Then Palmer says, "Hello?" into his phone.
"It's gonna be okay, Palmer," I tell her, trying to convey a soothing quality to my voice and not the hyped up way I feel.
"Cade?" She starts sobbing, like she's been holding it all in. "He's done playing, isn't he?"
"I don't know, Rookie," I say, calling her the nickname I used when she was little. I haven't called her that in years and have no idea why it slipped out.
"It all happened so quickly. He made a beautiful play, and the next thing you know he's on the ground writhing in pain. You could see his bone sticking out of his leg and there was blood. How does that happen?"
"The batter's foot landed on Pike's leg down by his ankle as they were both going for the base. They'll probably have to do surgery, but he'll be fine. I want you to let Carter drive you to the hospital. Promise me."
"I promise, Cade," she says before ending the call.
I text my brother immediately.
Me: I'm coming to the hospital. Her mom lives in Palm Springs, so she'll be alone. Tell me where they take him. And don't leave her until I get there.
"It sounds pretty bad," Aiden says. "I was listening to a live feed. It's hard to hear what they're saying in the noisy bar, but they speculate a broken ankle. Which isn't really speculation since you can see the bone protruding in the video."
"I don't know how you can keep watching that," Keatyn says. "And I'm tired. Aiden, would you mind heading home now?"
Aiden grins at his new wife, his love apparent. "Not in the least, Mrs. Arrington."
We say our goodbyes.
I call my driver and have him pick me up.
"I don't know where we're going, so just park for now," I tell him. Then I search the Internet for any news I can find. I watch the play repeatedly, but my mind is seeing a different accident.
Pike is on fire. He throws two beautiful fastballs straight down the middle to me.
Strike one.
Strike two.
I give him the signal for the third pitch. It's the bottom of the ninth. Bases loaded. One out. We are up by two in the final game of the College World Series. The guy hasn't swung at a pitch yet, so I call for another fastball. All we need is one strike, and then we're only one more out from a national championship.
Pike winds up, throws another screaming fast pitch.
The batter swings.
Connects.
Pop fly to centerfield.
The ball is caught.
We now have two outs.
One more and the game is over.
I tak
e position over home plate, watching the runner advance toward me as the throw from center comes in. It's low, so I crouch down to catch it, then turn to tag the runner, who immediately barrels into me, knocking me back into a somersault. I hear a pop, feel pain instantly radiating up my leg.
I cover my head with my hands and roll on the ground.
Pike is next to me, holding my shoulder, while the trainers determine that I wasn't hit in the head but injured my leg. I get helped off the field and into the dugout.
Pike follows. "They called him safe. The winning run's on second. You're my catcher. What should I do?"
"Just throw three more strikes, dude. Three more fastballs, that's all we need. It's our year."
"It's our year," he says, walking back to the mound.
"Let's get you to the clubhouse," the trainer says to me.
"No, I need to stay here. Pike's going to throw three more strikes. We're going to win."
"He's their best batter, Cade. It doesn't look good."
"I've worked for this all year, and I'm going to be here when we win. Can't you just throw a boot on it or something?"
"I thought you said it was broken?"
"It is. I heard it pop. Doesn't matter right now, though. You're about to witness history in the making."
He sits me down and carefully takes off my shoe. The team physician joins us in the dugout, feels my leg, says, "This might hurt a little," and then sets the break, gently puts it in a boot, and then clamps it shut. "Don't put any weight on it until we can get it X-rayed," he says as Pike winds up and throws.
Strike one. The guy doesn't even take a swing.
My replacement throws the ball back to him.
He winds up again.
The guy swings hard. Completely misses.
Strike two.
The girls in the stands are yelling and holding out their I Got Piked shirts--many of whom I've 'piked' myself. One of the benefits of being part of an unstoppable duo on the field.
