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“What the hell have you done?” Jayson asks.
“I asked for a trade. Baseball is my life, and I’m going to make it to the bigs. I should have never taken my eyes off the prize.” I flip him off.
He throws his hands in the air and slings them back down slapping his leg. “What’s that for?”
“For telling me getting laid would—”
“Get you out of the slump.” He finishes my sentence, and hearing the wordslumppisses me off even more.
“No, it’s what youdidn’ttell me.”
“That you might fall in love?”
“Yeah.”
ChapterTwenty-Four
TALYNN
Our relationship is reduced to a bunch of high school baseball players Archer hired to pack Tackett’s stuff. Pack-n-go. I watch as boys wanting to be Tackett file out of his bedroom with his clothes. With each pass, I cry a little more.
“Archer, please can’t you make him talk to me?”
“No, but you can slip something in one of the boxes to help him remember the good times.”
I grab hold of his tie and pull him into me. Tears roll. Archer’s embrace feels like a brother’s love. It’s warm and authentic. “I’ll do anything to take his pain away,” I choke out as tighten my hold.
He pats my back before breaking the hug. “Talynn, he’s taking it out of my hands. Out of Megan’s and out of yours.” His eyes are full of pity and sadness. “He’s asked for a trade.”
My neck juts out and then out farther. “Whaaat?” My voice sounds like it’s caught in a wind tunnel. The words meld together, and I fall into Archer’s chest. “No. No, he can’t leave me. Archer you have to help me fix this. Please help me fix this.” I beg.
Megan finds us on the couch and joins the hug. “We’ll help you baby sis. I have a plan.” Then she draws me into her, and I lay my head on her shoulder. Then, I wipe my nose on her navy-blue power suit and a tiny excuse for a laugh leaves my throat.
“You better, because Hagan said Tackett had twenty supreme tacos delivered today as an early birthday celebration.”
Archer and Megan’s mouths drop open, and no words come out, only worry lines creep across their foreheads. Tackett and fast fooddo notgo together.
* * *
Operation Divorce is in full swing. Megan and Archer are pulling more strings than an orchestra. I don’t know if this will work but I have nothing more to lose. I live in an empty apartment. All my friends live somewhere else—except Tackett.
Today’s the day. Megan told Tackett that she was having Karla, a specialist is sports massage therapy, come see him today at Wilson’s house. Making it clear if he wants to be traded, he will have a full session, and because the Sharks need him on the field during the series with the Bladerunners which starts tonight.
The plan is Karla and I will switch places. But just in case he kicks me out, she’ll be on the newly rebuilt and securely attached patio.
When I walk in, Tackett is face down with a white sheet covering his butt and legs. She’s also put a mask on him which is used for relaxation. It’s not really a massage therapy tool, it’s aget-in-the-same-room-as-Tacketttool. Soft alternative music plays in the background.
Karla has set up in what appears to be an office, because there are built in gray bookshelves on one complete wall. The other wall has custom cabinetry and bookshelves above it.
The wooden counter has some an aromatherapy jar plugged in, and I notice a small vat of oil heating.
I dip the spoon into the oil and put a drop on my hands and rub them together. Psyching myself up, I vision Tackett smiling at me.
I press my hands down on his back and begin with compression movements to increase the blood flow. I reposition the sheet to get to his glute and hamstring. When all of the muscles are warm, I start kneading his muscles. If I get busted, it’s going to be now, because he always responds with this-feels-so-good moans. He could be asleep because he hasn’t uttered a word.
This type of massage stretches the muscle fibers and eases muscle tension.
Suddenly, he says softly like he’s talking to himself, “Maybe Icanreplace her. This feels good.”
