Moonshot
Page 24
“It’s not bad. I don’t remember much from that stage of my life. And you don’t have to remember her to still love her.”
“I know.” I turned my head, watching the shadows as they moved across the leather. But did I?
“What happened to her?”
“She was having surgery. Something went wrong with the anesthesia.” I’d been home with a sitter. Dad had been in Colorado, playing. Neither of us there when she died.
“I’m sorry. Is it hard to talk about?”
I looked away from the shadows and up into his eyes. “No. But you’re the first person I think I’ve ever told.” I think he was the first who had ever even asked. When I was younger, people brought up my mother a lot. Nothing worse than a heartbroken girl being innocently asked where her mommy was. “My dad did a good job of stepping in,” I said quickly, my loyalties fierce. “A great job.”
“Are you going to tell him about us?”
I opened my eyes. “Us?”
“Well, yeah.”
It was a question worthy of sitting up, and I did, turning to him, my equilibrium off for a moment before I found my bearings. “I didn’t know there was an us.”
“I’d like there to be.” His voice was low and steady, like we weren’t having the biggest conversation of my life, like he wasn’t CHASE STERN asking me to be his girlfriend.
“You want to be my boyfriend.” Clarification was needed because this was huge, and if I was wrong, if I was misreading this, then I needed to reel my heart in before—
“Yes.”
“Exclusively.”
“Yes.”
I looked away from his eyes for a moment. “That means no other women.”
His mouth twitched into a smile. “Yes. I know what it means.”
“I’m not ready to have sex.” Again. I wanted to add the words, to give him some hint that I had, unfortunately, done that before, but couldn’t. Adding that would lead to questions. Answering those questions would mean facing my mistake head on. It was easier, especially in this new world, one where Chase wanted to be my boyfriend, to pretend that it never happened.
“That’s fine.” He reached for my hand, and I pulled away.
“No. You say that’s fine, but I’ve lived in a world of men for ten years. And I’ve seen almost every one of them cheat. There’s too much temptation—it’s not fair for you to be with someone like me, someone—”
“Ty.” He cut me off, his hand pulling at the back of my neck, bringing me forward, his mouth hard as it kissed the top of my head. “Shut up. I’m a big boy, I can handle some celibacy. Just please don’t tempt me too much.” He lowered his mouth, bringing it to mine, and we shared one long kiss, a kiss that had my heart pounding and nails digging into him, the muscles in his arm tight under my grip.
When the kiss ended, we were both breathless, and I pushed my hair back, trying to find my composure, my sanity in all of this. “I can’t tell my dad.” Not yet. Not when his opinion of Chase was lower than garbage. Not when I was barely eighteen, and Dad was finally giving me space. “If he knows, he won’t let me see you. I mean … not like this.” There would be curfews and limitations. He’d watch me like a hawk, and question me to death. Assuming that he didn’t forbid it altogether. I may be eighteen, but I was a Yankee employee. And I was his daughter, his world. For the moment, my life, and my decisions, weren’t exactly my own.
He studied me for a moment, then nodded. “It’s your decision. Just let me know when. But I’m yours. No other women. No drugs. I promise.”
I nodded. And when he pulled me onto his lap for another kiss, I felt his conviction in his touch, his taste, his reverent whisper of my name.
And just like that, five blocks away from the Marriott Marquis, we were official. Officially together.
Officially committed.
Officially screwed.
JULY
“Even once they made the Yankee connection, Ty wasn’t compared to the victims ‘til the fourth girl died. Then some criminal behaviorist finally made the correlation between the hot blondes and Ty. That was really when the investigation started to break wide open. And that’s when the protection detail started following Ty. For all the good they did.”
Dan Velacruz, New York Times
50
Cleveland
I hid my yawn behind my glove, the motion still caught by Higgins, fifteen yards away, in left field.
“Tired Ty?” he called out, reworking the glove onto his hand.
“Nope.” I scoffed, earning a laugh from him, his head turning as the hit went high left. Foul. Five innings in, and we were up by two. The remaining innings were crawling by, my eyes heavy, a nap calling my name. I’d been dragging all day, Dad all but pulling me out of bed that morning. My body wasn’t built for 3 AM bedtimes, a habit that my secret relationship with Chase was fostering. Last night we’d driven to his hometown, a quiet suburb forty-five minutes out of Cincinnati. He’d given me the grand tour, the final stop his high school.
The ball shot through the dark toward me, and I reached out, catching it barehanded, grateful for his light toss. Behind him, the dark lights of the stadium, the high school barely visible across a sea of grass. I stepped closer to him and threw it back, the toss short, him only fifteen feet away.
“It’s so odd,” he said. “That you’ve never been in high school.”
I shrugged, glancing over my shoulder. “I didn’t miss it.” I held out a hand, ready for his throw, but he turned, tossing the ball back to the dugout. I watched as he came closer.
“High school’s pretty great.” He looped an arm around my shoulders and steered me around, heading for the bleachers, his first step up on metal loud in the deserted dark. “I had some great moments here. I hate that you missed it.”
We sat halfway up, the metal hard and cold against my upper thighs, and I looked toward the buildings, a fortress of red brick that looked more like a prison. “What was so great about it?”
“It’s hard to explain.” He leaned forward, rubbing at a spot on his palm. “There’s this energy in high school. A sort of magic.” He looked over at me. “I see it in you, sometimes. The way you smile when you see something new. The excitement you get over something dumb. How your breath hitches when I lean toward you.”
“I know.” I turned my head, watching the shadows as they moved across the leather. But did I?
“What happened to her?”
“She was having surgery. Something went wrong with the anesthesia.” I’d been home with a sitter. Dad had been in Colorado, playing. Neither of us there when she died.
“I’m sorry. Is it hard to talk about?”
I looked away from the shadows and up into his eyes. “No. But you’re the first person I think I’ve ever told.” I think he was the first who had ever even asked. When I was younger, people brought up my mother a lot. Nothing worse than a heartbroken girl being innocently asked where her mommy was. “My dad did a good job of stepping in,” I said quickly, my loyalties fierce. “A great job.”
“Are you going to tell him about us?”
I opened my eyes. “Us?”
“Well, yeah.”
It was a question worthy of sitting up, and I did, turning to him, my equilibrium off for a moment before I found my bearings. “I didn’t know there was an us.”
“I’d like there to be.” His voice was low and steady, like we weren’t having the biggest conversation of my life, like he wasn’t CHASE STERN asking me to be his girlfriend.
“You want to be my boyfriend.” Clarification was needed because this was huge, and if I was wrong, if I was misreading this, then I needed to reel my heart in before—
“Yes.”
“Exclusively.”
“Yes.”
I looked away from his eyes for a moment. “That means no other women.”
His mouth twitched into a smile. “Yes. I know what it means.”
“I’m not ready to have sex.” Again. I wanted to add the words, to give him some hint that I had, unfortunately, done that before, but couldn’t. Adding that would lead to questions. Answering those questions would mean facing my mistake head on. It was easier, especially in this new world, one where Chase wanted to be my boyfriend, to pretend that it never happened.
“That’s fine.” He reached for my hand, and I pulled away.
“No. You say that’s fine, but I’ve lived in a world of men for ten years. And I’ve seen almost every one of them cheat. There’s too much temptation—it’s not fair for you to be with someone like me, someone—”
“Ty.” He cut me off, his hand pulling at the back of my neck, bringing me forward, his mouth hard as it kissed the top of my head. “Shut up. I’m a big boy, I can handle some celibacy. Just please don’t tempt me too much.” He lowered his mouth, bringing it to mine, and we shared one long kiss, a kiss that had my heart pounding and nails digging into him, the muscles in his arm tight under my grip.
When the kiss ended, we were both breathless, and I pushed my hair back, trying to find my composure, my sanity in all of this. “I can’t tell my dad.” Not yet. Not when his opinion of Chase was lower than garbage. Not when I was barely eighteen, and Dad was finally giving me space. “If he knows, he won’t let me see you. I mean … not like this.” There would be curfews and limitations. He’d watch me like a hawk, and question me to death. Assuming that he didn’t forbid it altogether. I may be eighteen, but I was a Yankee employee. And I was his daughter, his world. For the moment, my life, and my decisions, weren’t exactly my own.
He studied me for a moment, then nodded. “It’s your decision. Just let me know when. But I’m yours. No other women. No drugs. I promise.”
I nodded. And when he pulled me onto his lap for another kiss, I felt his conviction in his touch, his taste, his reverent whisper of my name.
And just like that, five blocks away from the Marriott Marquis, we were official. Officially together.
Officially committed.
Officially screwed.
JULY
“Even once they made the Yankee connection, Ty wasn’t compared to the victims ‘til the fourth girl died. Then some criminal behaviorist finally made the correlation between the hot blondes and Ty. That was really when the investigation started to break wide open. And that’s when the protection detail started following Ty. For all the good they did.”
Dan Velacruz, New York Times
50
Cleveland
I hid my yawn behind my glove, the motion still caught by Higgins, fifteen yards away, in left field.
“Tired Ty?” he called out, reworking the glove onto his hand.
“Nope.” I scoffed, earning a laugh from him, his head turning as the hit went high left. Foul. Five innings in, and we were up by two. The remaining innings were crawling by, my eyes heavy, a nap calling my name. I’d been dragging all day, Dad all but pulling me out of bed that morning. My body wasn’t built for 3 AM bedtimes, a habit that my secret relationship with Chase was fostering. Last night we’d driven to his hometown, a quiet suburb forty-five minutes out of Cincinnati. He’d given me the grand tour, the final stop his high school.
The ball shot through the dark toward me, and I reached out, catching it barehanded, grateful for his light toss. Behind him, the dark lights of the stadium, the high school barely visible across a sea of grass. I stepped closer to him and threw it back, the toss short, him only fifteen feet away.
“It’s so odd,” he said. “That you’ve never been in high school.”
I shrugged, glancing over my shoulder. “I didn’t miss it.” I held out a hand, ready for his throw, but he turned, tossing the ball back to the dugout. I watched as he came closer.
“High school’s pretty great.” He looped an arm around my shoulders and steered me around, heading for the bleachers, his first step up on metal loud in the deserted dark. “I had some great moments here. I hate that you missed it.”
We sat halfway up, the metal hard and cold against my upper thighs, and I looked toward the buildings, a fortress of red brick that looked more like a prison. “What was so great about it?”
“It’s hard to explain.” He leaned forward, rubbing at a spot on his palm. “There’s this energy in high school. A sort of magic.” He looked over at me. “I see it in you, sometimes. The way you smile when you see something new. The excitement you get over something dumb. How your breath hitches when I lean toward you.”
