"So when I handed her over to you?" Damian asked.
"We had a good laugh," Carter admitted. "Oh and while we're spilling our guts?"
Carter was spilling, Damian was listening, but he wasn't about to remind him and ruin the momentum. He wondered what else the rookie was about to confess.
"Yeah?"
He shook his head and actually looked sheepish for a brief moment. "I'm the one who led the photographers to Lacie's. I hoped you'd get caught with your pants down and get some negative press for a change."
The confirmation of something Damian had suspected all along should have infuriated him but, coupled with Carter's admission about Carole, Damian found himself in a forgiving mood.
"And instead they decided I'd rescued Micki and I was a hero. Must've pissed you off?
Carter nodded. "Enough that when you didn't show up for practice and Sophie Jordan Said you were doing rehab work at your island home, I called the airport and had them hijack your bags." Again, the other man glanced away, obviously unable to look his captain in the eye.
"What else?" Damian asked in a lethally low tone, his forgiveness now coming in short supply.
Carter rose to his feet and stumbled unsteadily. "Promise you won't hit me."
This had to be bad, Damian thought and winced before even hearing the news. "Just spit it out"
"I was the one who leaked the pregnancy news to the press and before you say I'm an ass, I'll do it for you. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to hurt Carole. I was just looking to get back at you." He rubbed the back of his neck. "Which doesn't make it any better, I know. But losing Carole taught me a lesson and I'm damn sorry." He hung his head.
Damian didn't know how much was drunken rambling, how much was truth, but at least Carter had developed a conscience. Enough to confess his sins, and those confessions had Damian wondering. And gave him legitimate reason to demand a paternity test from Carole without feeling guilty.
"Let's go get you sobered up," Damian said, not bothering to address anything Carter had admitted.
"You aren't going to kill me?"
Damian glanced at Carter's pale face. "Nah. I think I'll spare you. But if this repentant stuff is all an act and you pull a stunt like that again? I'll be using your balls for batting practice."
Carter grinned, a drunken grin. "Fair enough."
"Carole know about any of this?" Damian asked.
Carter shook his head. "But I'm going to tell her because, starting tomorrow, I'm turning over a new, responsible leaf. She's gonna see I want to be in her life even if the kid turns out to be yours."
Damian shook his head and prodded the drunken man toward the bank of elevators in the hall, all the while wondering if fate would be kind to Damian Fuller, the man who'd been given everything.
And hand him this one thing more.
MICKI OPENED A BAG of Tostitos she'd bought in the hospital cafeteria. She popped open a can of Diet Coke for herself and put Uncle Yank's can on his bedside tray for him to enjoy later. While he dozed, she curled up on the chair in his private room and settled in to watch TV. Despite her best intentions, the channel landed on WPIX and the Renegades came into view on the small screen.
The Renegades were in the field, down by two runs in the seventh, no outs, bases loaded. She watched a ball fly toward center field. She raised the volume.
"…And Fuller goes back, back to the far wall. He's there. He jumps. His hand hits the wall as the ball lands in his glove but he manages to hold on to it! Fuller prevents a grand slam but can he keep the number of runs down to a manageable level?"
Holding her breath, Micki leaned forward in her seat.
"Rodriguez scores on the sacrifice fly! Fuller throws to third and Baressi holds up at second base. Damian Fuller keeps the damage to one run."
Micki let out a long stream of air. "That was close."
"He's got some mileage left in him yet," Uncle Yank said from his bed.
She turned. "You're up!" she said, surprised.
"What do you expect when you blast the television like that?"
"How are you feeling?"
"It hurts."
She knew what the admission cost him. "Sophie's been making phone calls. We're getting you the best physical therapist there is. You'll be up and about in no time," she promised her uncle.
He nodded. "You're good girls. I don't tell you that often enough."
Micki smiled. "Yes you do." She rose, walked to the bed and leaned over to place a kiss on his cheek.
"Oh shit. Make it louder," her uncle said, suddenly agitated and pointing wildly toward the TV.
Micki turned and grabbed the remote, which was wired to his bed. She raised the sound but she'd already caught sight of Damian in the outfield, surrounded by his coach and trainers.
"…And Fuller is helped off the field. We don't know the full extent of the injury or if it's related to his last stint on the DL but as soon as anything comes our way, we'll report it back to you."
Micki hit the mute button once more. She met her uncle's worried gaze with one of her own. Her stomach plummeted because she knew, whether or not this injury kept him out of the game, Damian was going to take it as yet another sign that the career he loved was coming to an end.
“This can't be good," she said aloud.
Her uncle shook his head. "But you can't fight age forever," he said, thoughtfully.
Micki wondered if he was referring to Damian or to himself.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
DAMIAN'S SEVEN-DAY ROAD TRIP was cut short by a plane ride home to see Dr. Maddux and undergo a full battery of tests on his wrist, including X rays and an electromyogram that recorded the electrical activity of the nerve and muscle cells in his wrist. Maddux said he'd call him with the results, but it didn't take a damn machine to tell Damian that there was pressure on the nerve and swelling there, too.
Based on the tingling numbness and almost complete lack of feeling in his thumb, Damian figured it didn't matter much what the diagnosis was, his season just might be finished.
Not to mention what was left of his career.
He poured himself a second shot of whiskey and sat down in his favorite leather chair in his den. He left the plasma screen black, not wanting to flip channels and see what was happening in a world that for him was falling apart. How much more crap would be clumped on his head before it was all over? Damian wondered, feeling sorry for himself and not giving a good goddamn.
The doorbell rang and he ignored it. He wasn't in the mood for company, especially his sisters, the only people besides his parents that Rafael, the doorman, would allow up without calling first
The buzzer sounded a second time and then a third. Obviously Rafael had told them he was home. With a curse, Damian rose and headed for the door, intending to kiss whichever well-meaning sibling was behind it hello and then goodbye.
"Don't you realize when someone doesn't answer the door he doesn't want to be bothered?" he asked at the same time he pulled it open wide.
"Hello, Oscar," Micki said with a big smile.
He scratched his head, his slightly inebriated brain not comprehending her reference.
"Oscar the Grouch. Now let me in so we can talk " Without waiting for permission, she ducked under his arm and strode inside. “
He slammed the door shut behind himself. Micki was the one person he wanted to see and the person he'd been avoiding. He figured he'd dumped enough of his problems on her without adding his injury to the list.
He followed behind her, taking in the sweet curve of her rear end encased in tight denim and the hint of skin at her waist peeking out below the cropped top. Her hips swayed as she walked and his groin grew thick and hard with wanting her. At least some part of his broken-down body still worked.