Innings and kissing- Chapter 8

It was a chilly Februrary morning, when Stacey was sitting on her couch, watching the rain fall on the city’s skyline. She was thinking about the last few months, and found herself smiling.

She and Brett have spent every possible minute together. Between his practices and her errands, their time is limited, but they always find a way to make it work. He leaves her notes and roses on her car, she packed him care packages for away games. Stacey couldn’t have been happier.

Her thoughts were interrupted by a phone call, “I miss your ass so much.”

Stacey smiled at the woman on the other end, “I miss you too, Macy.”

“I’ll be in New York in a few months.”

“Really?”

“Yes, let’s say, June-ish,” Macy replied.

“Okay, I’ll call you later to make plans.”

“I’ll be waiting! Give that hunky piece of meat a kiss for me! Love ya,” she yelled before hanging up.

“Well she is definetly a breath of fresh air,” Stacey muttered to herself, when she heard the lock being
jumbled.

When the door opened, Stacey’s eyes glittered. Brett’s hair was messy around his beautifully carved face, there were dark sweat stains in his white long sleeve t-shirt and his dark blue excersize shorts were low on his hips.

“How was practice?” she asked, when Brett kissed her and rested his head in her lap.

“Like every other day,” he said, closing his eyes.

She felt his muscles tense, “You up for a nap?”

He opened one eye, “You know if I step into that bed with you, sleep will be the last thing on my mind.”

Stacey licked her lips, “Then let’s get to it.”

He groaned and his brows creased, “We can’t, my parents said they needed to talk to me.”

“Your parents?”

“Yeah, and you’re going with me,” he said, standing up and dragging her with him.

“Don’t I get a choice?” she said, wrapping her arms around his neck.

“Hmm, nope,” he said, leaning to kiss her pulse.

“Persuade me,” she said, inching his shirt off.

“My parent’s will have to wait,” he said, stepping out of his clothes.

Brett stood in the doorway of his childhood room. He heard Stacey’s laughter coming from the downstairs living room. His father was telling the story of how Brett used to take money to the local store in hopes of buying a sibling.

He walked into the room and he immediately thought back his adolescent years. The mahogany bunk bed was still there, the dark blue paint was still the same. He walked over and sat on the bottom mattress. The flannel was still there and so was the piece of chewing gum one of his ex-girlfriend’s left stuck to the wood. He walked over to the desk and opened the cupboard. Several car and sailing magazines were there, along with several stolen Playboy issues.

He came across the only drawer that was accessible with a key. Brett reached under the desk to find the small key still taped to the side of the storage box. He opened the box and found honor roll certificates, notes from girls, avoiding the other useless items, he wanted to find the two things that actually mattered to him.

Reaching the bottom of the drawer he felt relief when he found the two polaroid pictures he locked up years ago. One was of his parents, his dad stood tall above his mother. She was looking up at him, with all the love in the world, while his arm was around her shoulder and he was looking away. The other was a picture of his mother. Her dark hair was damp around her face, her eyes looked warm, and she was holding a blue bundle in her arms. She was smiling down at her son, she was smiling down at Brett.

“Brett, honey, come down here,” called his adoptive mother from the bottom of the stairs.

He placed the pictures in his wallet, and ran down the stairs.

Stacey sat in the seat next to Brett’s, admiring his profile as he looked out the cab window. His hand was swallowing hers, squeezing it, as if he would float away if he didn’t hold on to her. Her free hand was on his thigh, not a lasvicious gesture, but a desperate one. He turned to look at her and it took everything in her, to not crawl into his lap and craddle him. The bleakness in his beautiful eyes frightened her, she had never seen someone look so desolate, so utterly broken. There was no life in him, he was colorless as death and the shadows showed in the sharp angles of his face.

When they learned that his parents had invited them over to tell Brett his original mother was slowly wilting away, his manerisms changed. He became cold and distant, he hadn’t looked her in the eye. Not when he was explaining that his biological mother hadn’t spoken a word to anyone since her husband was killed in a mining accident. How he was forced to raise himself, how Becca and Carrick adopted him and moved him to the states. He wasn’t the Brett she knew. This man, this man had no soul. This wasn’t the man she had fallen hopelessly in love with.

She looked in the direction in which he was looking and saw endless rolling hills of green. It was a breathtaking view, and she closed her eyes for a moment. When she opened them to a shift in movement, she realized she had fallen asleep and they had pulled up a lonesome, little, white building.

Rubbing the sleep away from her eyes, she stepped out and instantly shivered. It was chilly and the expression on Brett’s face only made the cold seep into her bones. The tan door was opened by a small stubby woman and Brett greeted in her in his native tongue. The language of his country was such a beautiful sound to Stacey, she had recently fallen asleep to Brett speaking Gaelic. Stacey walked through the door behind Brett and her gut dropped. There was a small, frail woman in a cot in the corner of the bed. Her hair was dark as night, but her skin was white as snow. She looked a like a plant that was slowly wilting away. There were several tubes running in and out her body, and the slow hum of electrical machines made Stacey want to bolt, but she stayed for the sake of the man standing in front of her.

“You’ve had a long flight,” he said, in a whisper, ”Get some rest.”

“It’s okay, really,” she responded.

He looked her in the eyes and she understood he needed to be alone. She kissed his cheek and gave his hand a small squeeze. Picking up her bag she made her way to the nearest room.

Brett switched off the lights, after excusing the home nurse to her room. He opened the window and saw the ambulance that was waiting there, waiting to take his mother away. The doctors that had been filing in and out all day had said it was a matter of hours before she died. Closing the shutter, he pulled a chair beside the bed and watched her.

He didn’t look at her through the eyes of a son, like he knew he should. He looked at her through the eyes of a man who was watching a woman slowly ease towards death. Almost as if God himself was trying to give him a message, she eased her eyes open the slightest bit. Through the narrow slits of her eyes, he saw the green and blue irises of her eyes, a color that resembled his so much. She didn’t make a sound, a movement or even flinch at the sight of her son after not seeing him for thirteen years. She just smiled ever so slightly. The corners of her mouth twitched before she struggled to reach out to him.

He took her hand in both of his, “Mama.”

She closed her eyes and he felt all the fight leave her body. He felt the force of death come and take her soul. He felt every ounce of pain travel from her body to his, and it made him flinch.

“Mo buachail lomhora,” she whispered.

My precious son.


The words made a shiver run up all thirty-three bones of his vertabrae. Those three words were the only words he’d heard in sixteen years and they were the last he would ever hear. They made his heart ache and his stomach drop. He wanted to run, wanted to bolt, he wanted to go back home. Far away from this place, the place that caused him nightmares as a child, the place where his troubles began. The place that turned him into this monster, but instead he stayed. He watched her brow jump and her eyes crease before he saw her chest rise and fall for the last time.

“Goodbye,” he said, and kissed her hand, and cried out all the years of sorrow that had built inside him.

Stacey looked the doors to Chookie's a week after the funeral was held in Ireland. She later learned that Brett’s mother passed away just hours after they had arrived. Her death was expected, the funeral had been planned for the day after. Surprisingly many people showed up to the service, payed their condolenscnes and left. After the burial, they caught the next plane and came back to New York.

Walking the few block to Woodhill, she realized she hadn’t seen Brett in four days and it was taking a toll on her. Her days were long and constanly filled with worry for him. Greeting her doorman she made her way towards the elevators and pressed the button for their floor. Earlier that year, Brett had given her a copy of a key to his apartment, and she had thrown it in her bag, considering they had spent most of their time at her place. Digging through gum, femine products and a hairbrush, she found the key attached to a reciept.

As soon as Stacey had the door open she heard glass shattering in Brett’s room. Making her way there, she felt her knees give away and quickly caught herself with the door handle. The only light was coming from the millions of lights flickering on the city skyline. A heavy wave of hard liquor flooded her senses and she searched the room for Brett. Her eyes came across the shinky buckle of his belt in the dark areas of the room.

Her heart was breaking at the sight of his tear stained face. His eyes were wide, watching her every move. He was shirtless and barefoot, and she prayed the glass around his feet wouldn’t cut him. Bourbon had spilled in puddles around him. He was wearing his rosary, and that was the thing that struck her as odd. He never wore it to bed. She dropped her purse and slowly entered the room.

“What are you doing,” he managed to put together, through a drunken haze.

“I was about to ask you the same thing,” she said, tentively.

Anger flashed in his eyes, “GET OUT!”

She flinched, “No.”

He laughed, a horrid laugh. A sound laced with years of pain and torment in it.

“Get out, or else,” he said, looking at her.

“Or what,” she asked, inching towards him.

“Look at me,” he said, flicking his hands at his body, “I’m twice your size, I could destroy you.”

“You would never hurt me, Brett,” she said, quietly.

“So naive, I always admired that about you,” his voice was dark and evil, “You think life is such a wonderful thing. New flash sweetie, it’s a fucking nightmare.”

She reached him, but didn’t touch him, scared of how he would react.

“You know,” he slurred, reaching for her hair, “you’re really pretty.”

His dark green eyes toned down to a soft green, and she breathed a sigh of relief.

This was good, this was progress. Distracted drunk Brett was much better than angry drunk Brett. She cautiosly stepped near him, wrapping her arms around his bare chest. His skin was cold to the touch and she helped inch towards the bed.

“Your hair smells like apples,” he chuckled, “I like apples.”

He was supporting his entire weight on Stacey’s shoulders, but she had to make it to the bed. Finally reaching the bed, she flopped his bed. Knowing he hated to sleep in clothes she unbuckled his belt and pried his jeans off.

“Hey,” he exclaimed, “If you wanted to get lucky, all you had to do was ask.”

She smiled and reached across his body to cover him the sheets. Tomorrow would be a new day, tomorrow she would be mad, but right now she needed to make sure he was okay. She bent over and kissed his forehead. She cleaned the mess in his room and made sure the glass was gone. He was watching her through a cloud of alcohol affecting his body. She stepped out of her heels and undressed, pulling herself on the bed.

“I love you,” he said, before shutting his eyes.

Her body froze and her heart raced, she had waited so long to hear those words, but right now they meant nothing. He couldn’t profess his love for her in a drunken state of mind, she dismissed them and placed her body into the spot next to his.

Brett’s head was throbbing and the need to pee was nagging at his body to wake up. Stepping out of bed, he saw the room teeter to one side and then the other. His clothes were in a heap on the floor and his vision was too blurred to see the time on the clock. Cold air ran the length of his naked body when he stepped out of the bathroom.

He walked up to the glass wall and watched the dark sky behind the city line. The giant clock on one of the buildings showed it was 3:42 a.m. God, he was getting too old for this shit. Pieces of last night were coming to him in flashes. He remembered getting hammered, he also remembered smelling apples. Stacey came into mind and he remembered watching her cleaning up something from the floor. Probably glass or his own vomit. He was such an ass. The hair on his arms raised when he sensed he was being watched. Turning around, he saw Stacey’s naked body sitting up in his bed.

“What are you doing here,” he asked. His voice cracked due to the lack of moisture.

“I was sleeping,” she said, gesturing to bed, “Then I felt you get up, and I woke up.”

She pulled her legs from under the bed, lights bounced off her body.

“Did you,” he couldn’t find the words.

“Did I undress you, and pick up the broken glass, did I wipe tears from your face,” she said, “Did I save you from stomach poisoning, did I manage to haul your body to bed after you screamed at me to leave you alone, did I get scared when you threatened to destroy me?”

He stared at her, he didn’t know what to do. The fact that she was still here managed to pause his breathing. He was ashamed, he never wanted her to see him like this.

“The answer is yes,” she whispered, wrapping her arms around her waist.

“Stacey, leave, please,” he asked. Anger was boiling in his blood. For himself, not her. If he could kick his own ass, he would. He refused to make her a victim. He refused to cause her more pain than she had already endured.

“Why,” she said, stepping towards him, “so you can let your past win you over and destroy yourself?”

He stepped back, he was afraid of touching her. He was full of adrenaline, he didn’t have the power in him to be gentle. Her words sunk in and hit him like a blow.

“How can you stay here, how could you want to,” he said, “you know my power, I’d kill myself before I hurt you.”

“That’s what I’m afraid of,” she said.

Stacey watched his body. His erection was portruding out in front of her, his hair was messy, his blue eyes were wild and alive with emotion. She reached up to cup his face and he leaned into her touch.

“I love you, Brett,” she said. The words she was longing to say were finally out in the open.

“Stacey, I, I don’t know,” he murmurred, his eyes going wide.

“Sh, it’s okay, you don’t have to do anything about it.”

He watched her, his eyes flashing from fear to longing. His hands went to her bottom and he kneaded. She saw desire fill his eyes, but his words were still too fresh. The threat still clung in the air.

“Brett, I, I can’t,” she whimpered.

His hands stilled and he stepped back, turning away from her, “Leave, Stacey.”

“What, no!”

“I’m a monster,” he yelled, tears spilling from his face, “Look at me.”

She dove for his body, molded them together. She was trying to absorb his pain, she slanted her lips over his, her hands went into his hair and he was crying into her mouth. She walked backwards towards the bed and felt the heavy duvet. Stacey pulled the duvet over their bodies as she took them to the ground. She cradded his head beneath hers, wrapped her arms around his back and showered his face with kisses. His limbs twined with hers, he was holding her so close to his body. His buried his face in her throat and dreamt of brighter places.

Stacey woke up at the same time the sun was rising to the sound of Brett’s thunderous heart beat. Her back ached at the marble floor beneath the thick comforter. Brett was on his back, one arm beneath her head and the other resting on his stomach. His face was youthful in his sleep. This was the man she loved, this was the man who comforted her through her mother’s hospitalizations, this was the man who saved her, this was the man who changed her life.

She slid her hands down his body and for the first time since they had been together, he wasn’t as hard as steel crowbar. She stroked his length, making him swell up at the touch. His words of threat still lingered in the air, but the fear of losing him to his demons was much worse. He stirred and opened his eyes, looking at her, pain in his pale blue eyes.

“Stacey, no,” he said, his arm tightened around her shoulders.

“Let’s forget,” she said, rolling onto him.

Her moves were gentle, tender, apprehensive. She raised herself above him and lowered onto his erection. His hands went to her hips, and gently gripped onto her instead of his usual rough handling of her body. He sat up, bringing her body with his and wrapped his mouth around her nipple. His cheeks hollowed and sucked before he moved to kiss her chest and throat, whispering apologies against her skin.

He was scared. Brett realized this was the first in all of their times together, that they were gentle with each other. Approaching their bodies with a carefulness that wasn’t there before. With all the lines they had crossed before, they had yet to cross this boundary. Love.

They had fallen in love. Two people with fucked up pasts managed to over-come their fears and had given their souls to one another. There were emotions were coming into play, this wasn’t physical anymore. This was something much greather than both of them could imagine. He rolled her over, thrusting his hips in and out of her, stroking a pleasure spot deep inside her, never breaking eye contact. He leaned to kiss her and the realizaton had hit him like a train on a track.

“I love you, Stacey,” he professed, in between kisses.

He leaned up and looked down at her hair splayed across the blanket. Her brown eyes were glowing with emotion. He was bigger inside her than he ever remembered. The hand she had on his back moved to the quivering muscles of his ass, urging him to go deeper, and faster.

Stacey struggled for a breath, Brett’s plunging hips were precise and fast. She heard his words of love through the cloudy haze of pleasure sedating her. Their releases were powerful, moving their souls to places they had no idea existed. Their chests heaved together, the air around them becoming warm with breath. He laid on his side and turned her body to face him, brushing the damp hair from her forehead.

“I love you,” she said.

“Forever,” he breathed.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Stacey sat in her fiance’s lap, listening to babies crying in incubators and nurses buzzing around. She saw different jungle animals painted across the walls, along with pictures of infants and pamphlets about pregnancy, wondering how Alexa’s labor was going.

“Ma’m,” called one of the nurses, “You have to sign in.”

Stacey and Brett turned their heads to the clicks of stilettos hitting linoleum. The power house, Macy Cunningham, appeared with in seconds of the words. Her long brown hair flying around her, her dark brown eyes narrowed at the male nurse.

“Did I ever tell you how scary the resemblanse between you two was,” Brett whispered in Stacey’s ear.

Stacey giggled and looked to see Macy’s reaction to being called ‘Ma’m’.

“Listen here, sweetie,” she said, her hips cocked to one side, “Next time you call me Ma’m, I’ll have your ass for breakfast.”

The male nurse towered over Macy, but she was relentless, “You still have to sign in,”

She took the clipboard and scribbled her name as quick as possible, “If I missed the birth of one of my best friend’s kid, I swear.”

She handed the clip board back to the nurse before pulling her Ray Ban’s on top of her head. Her gaze settled on Stacey and she walked as fast as her heels would let her.

Stacey stood up and hugged her child hood friend, “How was your flight?”

Macy smelled of her trademark, bombshell perfume, “Never mind the flight, let me see the rock.

Macy took Stacey’s left hand and observed the oval cut diamond on her ring finger.

“Look at this sucker,” she whistled, “Oh, hey Brett.”

Brett stood and hugged her, “Hey, Mace.”

“Excuse me, Sir,” called the male nurse once more, “I can’t permit you entrance without registration.”

The deadly silent and amazingly hot Caleb Walker squeezed his enourmous body through the door.

“Listen to me carefully,” he said in a quiet voice, “I just traveled 2500 miles to see one of my brother’s kid’s be born.”

He pointed a finger in the nurses’ chest and raised his aviators, “Call me Sir again, I fucking dare you, I eat kids like you for breakfast.”

“Fuck the paperwork,” the male nurse exclaimed, walking out.

Caleb made his way to the observing by standers, “Brett!”

The two men embraced each others back, and caught up quickly.

“You might want to pick your chin up off the floor,” Stacey whispered into Macy’s ear. Making Macy blink rapidly and curse softly under her breath.

“Stacey,” Caleb called out, giving her a huge bear hug.

“Hi Caleb, how was the flight down here,” she asked, smiling.

“Weather down West was shitty so my flight was down for a while,” he said in a deep voice.

“Must’ve given you a rash considering you schedule your entire life,” Brett murmurred.

“Watch it, Daniels, I woke up grumpy today,” he said, with a grin on his face.

“That’s everday, Walker.”

Stacey cleared her throat and both men turned to look at her.

“Caleb, this is Macy Cunningham,” she said, poiting to each of them, “Macy, this is Caleb Walker.”

Everyone went silent as the two shook hands.

Macy felt her world tilt on it’s axis, and Caleb felt every cell in his body come to life. Elecricity crackled in the air before they heard a familair voice.

“Not sure if anyone gives a shit, but I just had the most beautiful baby girl,” Nick called, dressed in pink scrubs.