5. Dropping Hints like Taylor and Cake to the Face

FIVE

15 months after Buffalo

"Alex Wong, KING5 Sports, I have a question for Mr. James." The journalist announced himself before addressing me. "As someone who's watched your journey through baseball over the last few years, what do you have planned next? You've led this team to the playoffs. Does life even get better than this?"

No, it fucking didn't. I was high on life and never wanted to come down. I was playing the best baseball of my life and I knew it. The rest of the world did too, so I didn't bother denying it.

"Thank you for the question." I let out a practiced chuckle and tried to put on my easy going, cool-guy facade. "I've dreamt of this my whole life, and I can't wait to make it come true."

Brett elbowed me in the side. "With the help of his team. We're all very excited to see where the rest of the season goes. We know we're lucky to have the Parker James on our mound."

I cracked a smile as the room filled with laughter. The fuckhead always had to humble me.

Jesse Walker, a rookie pitcher, spoke up. "He forgets he's not the only player on the team sometimes."

I ignored the idiot who'd only been with the team for a couple months. "In all seriousness, my team is the best. They make me look good and always have my back out there."

The next few questions were aimed at my teammates. A female reporter spoke up, and I internally groaned the moment I heard her voice. I knew this woman, Rebecca… something. When I first came to Seattle I was excited to play baseball professionally, but heartbroken. I'd gotten a little drunk one night and mistakenly opened up to her about the transition to the pro league without knowing she worked for a Seattle newspaper.

"Do you have any plans for the offseason Mr. James?"

It was a loaded question. She was mad I blew her off. I wasn't interested in her in the first place when we met. I told her it wasn't personal, but apparently it had been to her. Especially when she ran an article about me hooking up with multiple girls in one night after I rejected her. It wasn't the best start to my professional career, but my agent took the image it painted and ran with it. I'd unintentionally become baseball's bad boy without kissing a single woman since Del broke my heart.

"Yeah, I'm excited to reconnect with some old friends."

"Anyone specific? A lucky lady now that you and Kerrie are over?" She practically growled the question.

"They know who they are." I looked into the camera, before pushing back from the table. "Gotta get to the offseason first, though. Right now I'm fully focused on taking home that trophy. I hope you have a peachy day, everyone. Thanks for being here."

My team got up and followed as I headed to the locker room.

Brett clapped me on the shoulder. "Who do you think you are, dropping hints like that? Taylor Swift?"

"Peach is a major Swiftie. That can only help my situation."

Peter brushed past me on the way to his locker. "Who isn't a Swiftie at this point?" He slung his bag over his shoulder and pulled the keys out of his pocket. "See you at the rink?"

"Yeah we'll meet you there," I replied while shoving clothes into my bag.

A rookie outfielder piped up, "You aren't coming to the afterparty? What about all the chicks that are coming to get a chance at a single Parker James?"

I shook my head. "Help yourself man. I have a birthday girl to celebrate."

"You took that cake to the face really well." Josie, my friend Noah's wife, cackled as she handed over some napkins. Their daughter Anabell had a smash cake for her first birthday and let's just say I think her dad needed to get a paternity test done. The little thing had an arm like a cannon, more suited for baseball than hockey.

"Don't even think about it—" Noah was cut off by a chuckling Peter.

"I'm sure that's not the only cake Parker handles well." The scrawny ginger I met in the minors now towered over me, but hadn't mentally matured whatsoever. Being constantly surrounded by male athletes hadn't helped the situation either.

But I'd be lying to say the comeback wasn't on the tip of my tongue as well.

Noah wasn't impressed. "Could you at least try to tone it down in front of my wife and child?" He left the table mumbling under his breath, "Neanderthals."

Peter crossed his arms and leaned back in his chair while I cleaned off my face. "He acts like he didn't meet Jo at a club while she was dancing on the bar top." He shook his head. At 21, his face still held that boyish charm, enhanced by the countless freckles dotted all over it. You'd never expect the predatorial calmness that fell over him in game situations.

"Jo is not afraid to smack the shit out of you herself if you keep running your mouth."

Peter lifted a shoulder. "True. So what, or rather who, are you going to do in your time off?"

My eyes flicked over to Brett, the man who'd become my best friend over the last few years. We were lucky to move up to the majors together and we'd been inseparable since—in the media, as a pitcher/catcher duo, and off the field. He and Peter shared the apartment below mine. Brett was the one person I could tolerate being in my business all of the time.

Except when he opened his big mouth and blabbed said business.

"Hey don't look at me, I didn't tell the runt." His slow, southern accent made him sound genuine even when he was lying. Women loved it.

"Okay, rude." Peter looked thoroughly offended even though the nickname wasn't new. "I overheard."

I let out a heavy breath. "If no one tells you, maybe you aren't supposed to know then, kid."

He cocked his head to the side. "Huh, never thought of it that way. So what are you going to do back at home with Del?" he asked, completely undeterred. "Finally get some p?—"

Noah walked over with a cake-covered Anabell held out in front of him by her armpits. His brows were raised so high it looked like he was trying to fry Peter by shooting lasers out of his eyes.

"Pudding," Peter finished. "You know since you can slack off a little on your diet." He winked. My friend wouldn't know the definition of subtle if you threw a dictionary at his head. Hell, I wouldn't bet my life that he could spell the word.

Noah spoke up from beside me where he was trying to undress the wiggly birthday girl. "Right, Parker the monk is going to go wild and crazy this offseason." He scoffed like it wasn't even a possibility.

"Whatever. You guys are the only ones that know."

Brett felt the need to chime in. "Yeah, us and the people who noticed you didn"t acknowledge Kerrie's existence once the cameras weren"t around." He was downing handfuls of baked potato chips like someone was going to take the bowl away from him.

Noah's oldest daughter Stassie tugged on the pant leg of my jeans. "Unk P, skate with me." Stass was three and knew how to get her way with me. She looked at me with those big brown puppy dog eyes, and I was a goner.

"Stass, you know I can't skate. Remember last time?" I mimicked the way I fell when she convinced me to try at the beginning of the summer at a family skate night.

She giggled and wrapped her arm around my leg tighter. "I help you. No be scared, P." She let go and flexed her arms hard, showing me she was strong.

I sighed and picked her up. I'd never be accused of being whipped when it came to anyone other than Del, but Stass was giving me a run for my money.

"Parker, this is a bad idea." Brett called from the rink where he was spinning Jo around like some kind of ballerina on ice. "Remember your contract?"

"We have the same contract and you're skating," I pointed out as Stass and I walked up to get a pair of skates from the counter.

"Yeah but I have skill." He took Jo's hands and skated backwards, pulling her along behind him. "You have to be suave."

"I can be suave."

Once my skates were tightened all the way and Stass checked them for me and gave me a thumbs up, we were on the ice. Stass was like a little water bug, flitting around and yelling for me to chase her. I gripped the side of the rink like the lifeline it was.

The cold bit into my skin as I watched Noah swoop in and steal his wife from Brett. I didn't understand how these bastards were skating in t-shirts and shorts. At least Jo had the good sense to bundle the girls up. My long sleeve and jeans were as much for the frigid air as they were to protect me from the ice. I knew what it felt like to fall on bare skin and wasn't eager to repeat the mistake.

"P!" Stass squealed from center ice. She was making grabby hands at me and sticking out her bottom lip.

Peter came up behind her and mirrored her actions. "Yeah Uncle P," he mocked. "Don't be a p?—"

"Peter!" Several voices around the rink scolded him before he could finish the sentence.

"Come on Parker, you can do it." I knew he was goading me, and he knew I wouldn"t chicken out in front of all these people. They were my friends, but half of them were my teammates and looked up to me on the field. I could also never say no to Stass. She had me wrapped around her little finger the moment we met.

We were supposed to have the rink rented out for the evening, but the schedules got messed up and there were high school kids messing around as I tried to slowly weave through them. I was ten feet from Stass when I was hit from behind and thrown forward onto the ice. My head connected with the hard surface, and my vision went black for a few seconds.

Brett was saying my name, and I winced as I opened my eyes to find him standing over me. I blinked twice and eventually the light wasn't as jarring.

"Bud, you okay?" He hauled me upright again.

Blood pounded behind my eyes, and I held my head in my hands. "Fuck, that wasn't very suave huh?"

He didn't laugh, no one laughed, but I looked up to find my friends surrounding me. I expected Peter to at least join in but he was even paler than normal.

"P okay?" Stass was in tears and her little voice tugged at my heart. She was pulling at her laces and trying to get out of her skates. Noah helped her, and she jumped into my lap as soon as she was free. Her mitten-covered hands held my cheeks, and she turned my head from left to right, checking for wounds. I winced again when I felt the burn in my right shoulder. My flannel was ripped, and I could feel blood starting to run down the length of my arm.

Jo skated up and bent down. "What happened?" She quickly handed Stass back to Noah and made everyone move back. She was in full nurse mode.

Brett spoke up. "He hit his head. I think he was out for a little bit."

"I'm fine, Jo, I just need to get up and get off this damn ice." I tried to lift myself up and let out a hiss when I put pressure on my injured arm. "Fuck."

Jo didn't let me move another inch. She softly checked my head for bumps and started asking annoying questions. "Can you tell me your name?"

"Parker Fucking James."

She didn't laugh. "What day is it Parker?"

"September 26, Ana's birthday." I rubbed the back of my head. "If you make me sing my ABC's backwards you're just going to find out I'm not as smart as you thought. I can't do that on a normal day."

"How's your shoulder feel?"

"Like shit. How does it look?"

"Painful." She peeled back the fabric of my shirt and ripped the rest of the sleeve off. "You're going to need stitches."

"Can't." Stitches meant no pitching next weekend and I wasn't sitting out. Telling my coach meant a lecture and fine at best or being kicked off the team at worst.

"I understand, Parker. You don't have a choice though." A worker came over and handed Jo a first aid kit. She cleaned me up and I inhaled sharply when she tightened the makeshift bandage to stop the blood flow. "I think you need your head checked too, but at minimum you'll need stitches."

"Fine, but I'm not going to the ER."

"I'll call Doc." Brett skated away with his phone held to his ear.

"Okay boys, get him up." She backed away and reached a hand down to Stass, who watched me with a glassy gaze. I squeezed my eyes shut when Peter stupidly tried to lift my arm over his shoulder. "Careful with him!" Jo chastised.

They followed behind us and I heard Stass whisper, "No more ice for P."

Since the moment my vision went dark, I couldn't escape flashing lights every time I left my apartment. There was no announcement made, I just wasn't on the line up or allowed on the field. The country wanted an explanation but they got none. My fans were pissed I wasn't playing, my coach was pissed I'd been reckless, the media was pissed because they couldn't get the story, and I was mad at the world. I had my whole career ahead of me and I'd royally fucked it up in my second season in the MLB.

Paparazzi were waiting outside my apartment building so I had Brett sneak me out in his car from the underground parking garage. I was thankful for his dark tinted windows as I sunk down into my seat.

"Are you sure this is a good idea?" Brett asked, rubbing the stubble along his jaw.

"No." He wasn't the only one questioning my decision to go home and spend some time with my family. They still didn't know why I hadn't played in the game yesterday. No one did besides the owner, GM, my friends, and my coach that put me on the list without pay. I could still hear the damning words that played on a loop in my head.

"We don't need a liability leading this team. Go home, get healthy, and we'll see if you're worthy of this team in the spring. Ditch the media persona while you're at it too. See if you can find the humble, talented man I recruited while you're home."

I wanted to hit something. I wanted to scream. He looked at me with so much disgust I wondered why I didn't hate myself more. There were parts of my life that were amazing. I had a supportive family back home and one here that I'd made for myself. My life was good. I was successful and playing well. I didn't have any complaints until I went home alone and stared at the dark ceiling wishing I was somewhere else with the one person who made me feel at home.

I knew 20 stitches in my pitching arm was a big deal. I knew there would be consequences, but I didn't think I'd be dismissed like this.

"I guess it must be pretty bad if you'd rather face your demons back home than stick around here."

"Demon," I said. "Singular."

"Del looked more like an angel to me, but what do I know?" He tried to lighten the mood with a joke, but my mind was elsewhere.

"You've never seen her mad."

"What did you do to the poor girl?"

"I let her run."

I used to love flying. I never hated the chaos of the airport until that moment when I was waiting for my luggage to make its way around the carousel.

Even though I had the brim of my ball cap pulled down so far I could barely see, I felt eyes burning into my side, assessing and trying to decide if it was me or not. So far no one was sure enough to come up and ask. I had specifically picked a seat in the front of the plane so I could settle in and hide myself while everyone piled in, then be the first person off after landing. I was used to people watching my every move, but not here. I hadn't been home for a couple years and the fact that it felt foreign was unfamiliar.

The small airport had less commotion than Seattle-Tacoma International, yet somehow I felt more exposed waiting for my luggage with this small group of people huddled together by the exit.

I readjusted the shoulder strap of my backpack for the tenth time and attempted a glance around me. Yep, at least three people were watching me.

A teenage girl caught my line of sight, and I could see recognition flash in her eyes. "Hey are you?—"

"Nope." I turned to see my suitcase wind around the conveyor belt, reached for it, and made a beeline toward the exit. I spotted my mom waving me down next to her white Subaru, but then was cut off by a line of paparazzi waving cameras in my face and backing me up against the wall of the building.

"Parker! Are you home until next season?"

"Are you injured?"

"Anticipating a trade anytime soon?"

"Why didn't you play in the last game?"

They fired off question after question to get a reaction out of me. I was used to it by now, but they shouldn't have been here. It was a set-up, and I wasn't interested in playing this game.

I pushed through the flashing lights and clicking lenses until I reached my mom, whose jaw had fallen slack. She quickly recovered and helped me throw my luggage in the back before climbing into the passenger seat and letting me drive. We didn't speak for the first ten minutes. I stared out at the road in front of me, but I caught Mom stealing glances my way every few seconds.

"Are you okay?" I felt guilty she had to witness that.

Her mouth gaped. "Am I okay? Honey I'm more worried about you. That was crazy. I saw them waiting there but I didn't know what was going on."

"It was a set-up. I need to call my agent when we get home. He needs to stop doing this."

"Why would Jerry set you up like that?"

"I'll explain later. Is everyone at home?"

"Yeah. Holly and Dad are making supper. I figured we could go out and celebrate your homecoming tomorrow."

"Sounds perfect, thanks for picking me up.

She looked off into the distance. "It's going to be weird having a family dinner without Del." Her voice was small, like she wanted to talk about it, but was afraid she"d upset me.

"Come on, Mom. Don't start."

"I just don't understand what happened."

I fucked up big time and she didn't want me anymore. That"s what happened. I was excited to be home, but knew it would come with battling issues I'd been trying to ignore for over a year.

"But you're here now. Can't you fix it? It's not just you who misses her. Lorelai won't answer my calls, and no matter how polite she is when we run into each other, it's forced."

I ignored her ranting. I loved my mom, but I couldn't do this "20 questions about Del" thing the moment she got me alone.

"Fine." She crossed her arms and settled into her seat. "How long are you home for?"

I sighed. "A while. Might have to fly back for an event here and there, but most of the winter."

"Plenty of time to beg forgiveness for whatever you did." She said it under her breath, but I knew she meant for me to hear.

I gripped the steering wheel hard enough to turn my knuckles white. "Don't wanna talk about it, Ma."

I didn't have to look to know she was rolling her eyes at me. "What can we talk about?"

"Someone other than me."

She jumped into talking about my sister, Holly. Updating me on school things. I already knew all of it, since Holly and I talked every day. I let her continue anyway, relieved to have the interrogation over.

Dinner was full of questions I wanted nothing to do with. I played nice aside from ignoring everything they asked about Del. Holly and Mom wanted to watch a family movie, but I used the excuse that I had to get up early and had had a long day.

The talk of Del had me wired and pacing like a tiger in a cage. The coldest shower possible wouldn't get rid of my hard-on. I gave in and gripped myself in a tight fist while leaning against the cool tile with my free hand holding myself up. That weekend at the hotel came back in flashes like it always did in my dreams, conscious or not.

Del's legs wrapped around my waist while I pinned her to the shower wall. She was tired, but I couldn't get enough. I needed her one last time before her flight home. Her breath mingled with mine while I gripped her hips to slide my cock through her wet, open pussy lips. She fisted the hair at the base of my skull and her mouth fell open with a groan. She was insatiable once she got a taste.

"I'm going to miss you."

"Me or my cock?"

A naughty grin spread across her features. "Both."

"I need you to come one more time."

"Then stop playing with m?—"

Her words were cut off with a moan when I shifted her hips over me and inched inside her. Feeling her stretch around me would never get old. Seeing her this way wouldn't either. She didn't hold anything back with me. Her forehead met mine, and we breathed heavily until I was fully seated. Her dusty blue eyes bore into mine, and I'd never felt closer to another human, never felt more seen. Her plump bottom lip was pulled between her teeth, and when she squeezed around me my eyes rolled back.

"I swear you were made just for me." I suctioned my lips to the sweet spot I'd found on her neck and angled her hips so I slid over her clit with every thrust. "Be a good girl and come, then I'll fuck your mouth."

"Parker." Her words were a mix of curse and prayer.

Her cunt started to spasm around me, and I clenched fistfulls of her ass to hold myself back while she shattered.

Del took direction so well—when she was turned on. She was a fucking sight to see on her knees, looking up at me with kiss-swollen lips. I ran a thumb over the parted juncture, loving how the bottom one was fuller than the top. Her blonde hair was drenched, darkened from the warm spray, and plastered down her back. The makeup I'd watched her carefully apply this morning ran down her perfect cheekbones in black streaks. A fucking vision.

"You're so fucking pretty on your knees, Dellie. You were such a little slut coming on my cock." I didn't know how I held out long enough for this. I traced my fingers over her jaw, her neck, the smooth hollow of her collar bone.

She braced herself with one hand on each of my quads, nails digging in slightly.

"Make that slutty pussy feel good for me." I handed her the teal vibrator she loved so much.

On her knees, tasting herself on my skin, she reached down and pressed the toy against her clit. I could feel her hum around my cock, and it made my knees buckle for a second before I caught myself.

I unloaded against the white tile and then sprayed it off with the showerhead. The guys could call me a monk all they wanted, but Del's ghost haunted me in a way that would never fit a celibate lifestyle.