4. Chase

FOUR

chase

A couple of hours later, the four properties I own on the island are ready for whatever the incoming storm has to offer.

I drive along the beachfront road, and glancing around, it looks like a storm would be the last thing to worry about with the sunshine and high white clouds.

But the winds are picking up and the sea is beginning to get choppy. Far out on the horizon, purple clouds are beginning to show themselves, making the air heavy.

At the rate the storm is moving and growing, it won't be long before we see how bad it is.

The dashboard clock says I have a little over an hour until Eden will be at my house.

Knowing her, she'll be early, and since my own place needs some prep work, I point the truck toward the end of the island.

My stomach is in knots with the thoughts of having Eden near my sanctuary.

Why the hell did I say to meet at my house?

Just one more time I weaken for her even when I think I'm in control .

All I want is to be left alone on the island that's my saving grace. Live out my days in the sun, managing my properties and keeping up with the handyman business I'd started to keep me busy.

Be that grumpy old bastard sitting at the end of the bar, watching the out-of-towners bake themselves like lobsters and drop a month's worth of pay into our local economy.

I don't date or go out much on purpose. Sure, I'm still a guy and want to get laid on occasion. I injured my million-dollar arm, not my dick.

But the truth is, I haven't gotten laid in over six months. A long-ass time for the guy who'd once had any willing woman at the snap of my fingers.

I'd had a "friends with benefits" arrangement with a local woman for a while, but she moved to Miami six months ago. Since then, it's been just me and my hand.

But I'm content to leave my celebrity back on the mainland— even though high season on the island brings out the cleat chasers —and simply be a guy who fixes things around town and is a respectable, contributing member of the community.

I enjoy drinking a beer sitting on my back deck overlooking the Atlantic, being out of the limelight, and not dealing with the dating scene.

It was part of the reason my arrangement with Tess had worked so well before she moved.

Was I alone? Sure.

Was I lonely? It didn't matter. I had everything I needed.

Whenever I'd wanted more, it had always blown up in my face. The last time I tried having more, it was built on lies, had ended two lives, and my career had gone down in flames.

I'm disinclined to try again with any woman. Even the one who still owns me all these years later .

A weight lifts off my shoulders when the land dotted with houses and condos becomes open beach and trees.

It means home is near.

At the very tip of Cape Sands Beach, I built my fortress.

Surrounded by oak and palm trees on one side, the Atlantic on the south side, and the Intracoastal Waterway on the north side, it isn't like I can't be found.

But I don't make it easy with the high white block walls and wrought iron security gate, not to mention the best hidden camera and security system money can buy on my property.

It may sound like overkill, but after everything that happened four years ago, the paparazzi has been insane.

Even though I'm not a celebrity athlete anymore and most of the vultures have lost interest, occasionally a stray one shows up looking for a morsel to dig up the scandal again.

Moments later, I open the door to the house and sigh in relief. The cool air surrounds me and chills my overheated skin.

After toeing off my boots at the door, I wander into the kitchen in search of a cold beer.

My stomach growls at the lack of contents in my big-ass fridge. My housekeeper, Louise, usually keeps the fridge stocked, but she's been gone for two weeks visiting her grandkids in North Carolina. And with the impending storm, I told her to wait until it passed before she heads back.

But there's still beer left, which is just what I need.

I plop down on the couch and crack open the bottle, taking a long, deep drink, relishing the bite of the cold carbonation on my throat.

Closing my eyes, I lean my head back on the cushion. With each sip, my body relaxes little by little.

But my mind is a jumble of images, the past and present mixing together, most of them with Eden Mitchell front and center .

The first day we met.

All the times we spent at the beach on spring break.

All of the times my body sank into hers and the little sighs she made when I moved inside her.

Leaving her for the big leagues and promising I'd be back.

A promise I wanted to keep but didn't.

After that it all went black.

Except for the screams and the smell of burning rubber among other things. The ass over teakettle motion that made me feel like I was flying through the air…

"Hey, man. Wake up."

I swing at the motion, at the feel of being held down and flying at the same time.

"Chase, wake up!"

My eyes spring open to find Nate Gentry in front of me, holding my arms down.

Son of a bitch, the fucker's strong.

I blink, trying to clear the cobwebs and the bad memories out of my mind. I swallow hard against the desert in my throat. "Uh, sorry."

I attempt to move out of his grip on my shoulders, but he doesn't budge. He lifts a brow. "You good?"

"I'm good."

He releases me and picks up one of the beers he'd set on the coffee table. "I see you already started."

I lift my bottle to my lips to drink away the bitterness on my tongue. "Yeah."

"What's going on, man?"

"What do you mean?"

"You were a bit more hostile than normal with Eden. Which is saying something for you."

"I have my reasons." I tip the bottle back only to find it empty.

He settles back into the couch, eyeing me. "I've got all day. So, go on. Tell me your reasons."

I start peeling the label off the beer bottle. "Let's not and say we did."

"Okay, that's fine."

But instead of getting up and leaving me in my misery, he just turns his head and looks out the wall of windows.

"Don't you have practice to go to or a commercial to film or something other than sitting here bothering me?"

A grin splits his face. "Not right now."

I've known Nate since the minor leagues.

I was an up-and-coming pitcher for the New York Admirals, and he was the hot new catcher heading to the Cape Sands major league team, the Bull Sharks. Our teams have faced off over the years and we've stayed friendly.

He's one of the few guys I know that hates many of the trappings that come with the fame and fortune, especially the media and the cleat chasers that try to trap him.

And because of that, the media often don't know if they love him or find him to be a broody SOB.

So when my career imploded, he's one of the few players that wasn't afraid to stand by me and remind me what bullshit all of this can be.

He's the guy who found me this piece of land and why I decided to make the move to Cape Sands.

Nate Gentry is one of the most stand-up guys I know. I owe him a great deal.

And I trust him.

But even he doesn't know much about Eden. The only time I've ever mentioned Eden to him is when we got drunk one night and I mentioned how the girl I was seeing at the time reminded me of Eden.

When I sobered up, I started dating brunettes only .

I sigh and drop my head back on the cushion.

"Eden and I met in college. We dated for a few years and then I went to the minors. We parted ways and that's that."

"That's that? I call bullshit."

"Yeah, well, fuck you."

He chuckles, unperturbed by my little snit. "Why do I feel like there's more to this story?"

"Because you're an arrogant prick?"

He nods as he sips his beer. "That has been mentioned a time or two," he says after he swallows, "but I'm also right, aren't I?"

I sigh again. "Fine. I was in love with her. But I fucked it up when I left. When I got to the majors, it was good PR for me to be the bachelor stud. You know how it is."

He frowns. "Yeah, unfortunately I do."

"Then I married Heather, and the PR machine spun that the way they wanted to and I fell right into it again."

I sip my beer, but let the memories of my wedding day play in my head.

In spite of the fact I know now I never truly loved Heather, it had been a good day.

"Y'all had a great wedding, man."

I nod for a moment before I can find my voice. "Heather was beautiful."

I look down and finish peeling the label off the bottle before sticking the paper inside. "But I never should have married her. For a lot of reasons, but the biggest one being I didn't love her." I scrub my face with one hand.

"Still, that doesn't mean she?—"

"Leave it, Nate. You're right. But I drove Heather to do what she did. It was my fault."

I look out toward the backyard where the waves are starting to grow and the wind continues to pick up. "Look, I'd love to continue spilling my guts to you, but I have work to do before the storm comes in. Plus I gotta get some food."

I stand and Nate follows.

"I'll help you."

I shake my head. I need his help, but I need to have some alone time more.

My head has to be right before Eden arrives. "Nah, it won't take me long, but I need to get started."

"You sure? I can work on the garage while you get the guest house. Or I can go pull the boat up out of the water."

I laugh. "The boat's on a hydraulic lift, and the guest house has hurricane shutters. All I need to do is the garage, and I think I can handle it. Go home and leave me alone."

"Fine, fine. Can't say I didn't try."

After he leaves, I get to work covering the windows of the detached garage where I house a couple of toys I still own from my baseball days—my Harley and a 1965 Corvette.

I drive screws into plywood, and the mindless work has me thinking back to what my life was like a few years ago.

It's fall and if we're still playing, it means we had a great season and are in the playoffs.

Signing autographs.

Fending off the women.

But in my last year before retiring, it hadn't been as carefree.

My late wife turned heads, and when I saw guys flirting with her, I'd had my suspicions she hadn't been fending off the guys at all.

But honestly, I'd been too wrapped up in my career to pay attention.

I had one love at the time, and it wasn't Heather.

Baseball has always been a demanding and greedy mistress, about as greedy and demanding as Heather had been .

Not to mention I gave my heart away a long time ago and never got it back.

Eden's face swims into the forefront of my mind's eye.

She'd been the only woman I'd loved more than baseball.

And yet, that isn't exactly true either, is it?

I worked my ass off to be the best in the league, one of the best in history some said. Baseball had been the one love that never let me down. It had always been there.

Until it wasn't.

I have more money than I'll ever be able to spend, a beautiful house in a small slice of paradise, and my life is my own. Isn't that what most people would call living your best life?

The reality is those are just things that don't really matter.

I learned too late that the things that do matter are gone. My wife is dead, the love of my life hates me, and the range of motion in my arm has left me with the ability to swing a hammer—but I'll never be able to throw my trademark fastball again.

I'd come to Cape Sands to get away from my life and anything that reminded me of what I'd lost. Here, there is peace. No one bothers me for the most part.

My celebrity lost its luster about six months after I moved here. After a while, you just become one of the locals. It's a small island with some tourism, but mostly, it's quiet.

Just perfect for a bastard like me who isn't fit for love of any kind.