Baseball and Other Lessons (Devil's Ranch Book 2) (21 page)

“Matt—“

“You don’t have to say anything, Jenn. It was way past time I explained to you what was going through my head back then. I owed you that.”

“Why didn’t you tell me all this before, Matt? We’ve seen each other plenty over the past ten years, but instead of just telling me the truth, you’ve let me be an angry bitch towards you—which has been kind of difficult, considering all the questions that have been asked about it.”

He shrugged. Looked away. Looked back at her. “Because it was easier to let you be angry. As long as you were pissed at me and keeping me at a distance, it was easy to tell myself that I’d imagined everything I’d felt that night, that I’d just been drunk or feeling some sort of home sickness.”

She’d tried to tell herself the same thing. “But you weren’t drunk that night.”

“It was self-preservation. Don’t you get that?”

Of course she got that—what did he think she’d been doing for the past month? Hell, for the past ten years?

She moved her hand back to the inside of his collar, needing to feel his solid strength. “I’m tired of fighting, Matt. I’m tired of manufacturing reasons to stay angry with you.”

“In all fairness, you’ve done a pretty good job at that.”

A choked laugh escaped. “Truce?”

“Truce.”

Even though there were still hundreds of things they needed to talk about—like the fact that he’d been thinking love, marriage and babies with her—she pushed all of those thoughts to the back of her mind and asked him the craziest, possibly the most destructive question she could ask.

“Can you stay here tonight? I really don’t want to be alone.”

Chapter Fourteen

Matt walked into Chase’s
house just after nine the next morning to find Chase in the kitchen by himself, spooning scrambled eggs onto a plate. His younger brother looked up and raised an eyebrow before returning to his task.

“You sure don’t look very happy for a dude who’s doing the walk of shame.”

This was one of those rare mornings that called for coffee. Matt ambled to the Keurig, grabbed a coffee mug, popped in a pod and hit BREW. “Do men even do the walk of shame? I thought that was solely in the domain of women.”

Chase shrugged. “I honestly don’t know.”

The coffee finished brewing and Matt picked up his now full cup. “I mean, seriously, it’s more like the walk of high fives.”

“The stride of pride?”

“Complete with the theme from
Rocky
playing in the background.” Matt sipped his coffee.

Chase shook his head. “You’re a piece of work, you know that?”

“You’re the one who accused me of doing the walk of shame.”

Chase took a seat at the island and dragged his plate in front of him. “Fair enough. So if you weren’t out having wild sex—and I’m still not sure if I believe that or not, by the way—where were you all night?”

Matt leaned against the kitchen counter, adopting a relaxed pose despite being anything but relaxed. There was no way in Hell he was telling Chase where he’d been all night; he was pretty sure his little brother would kick his ass five ways to Sunday if he did know.

“I met up with Owen at April’s last night. It got late. I wanted to give you and Jo some privacy so I stayed somewhere else. End of story.”

His brother pushed his eggs around his plate. “’Somewhere else’ sure does sound vague.”

“Why the twenty questions?”

“Just curious. You haven’t exactly been yourself here lately.”

Matt looked down into his coffee cup. “Yeah, well, getting hit in the head by a line drive and having your entire future on hold tends to throw you a bit off-kilter.”

Chase scooped up some eggs on his fork, but paused before eating them. “How is your head healing? It seems like we’ve barely talked the past week or so.”

“In your defense, you’ve been kind of busy with Jo and I’ve tried to give you two some privacy.”

“Thanks for that.” Chase set his fork back down.

Matt drew his eyebrows together. “Are you gonna eat those?”

Chase glanced at his plate and shook his head, sighed before saying, “I don’t know what’s going on. I was hungry, but as soon as I took a bite the texture was just off. I’ll find something else in a bit.”

Matt peered at his brother, couldn’t see anything that stood out to him as being out of place, and asked, “That been happening often?”

“Off and on, but it’s happened a few times in the past week. I guess I’m just going through a weird food phase. We all have them.”

Except not everyone had the health issues Chase had. “When’s the last time you saw your nephrologist?”

Chase glanced sharply at Matt. “I go in for a check up on Monday. Why?”

“I did some reading years ago when you first got your diagnosis. Apparently some people start having issues with food textures as their kidneys get worse, but it seems to be related more to the folks who are constantly puking.”

“Huh. I haven’t heard that one, but I guess it makes sense; if you’re throwing up all the time you probably don’t want to eat.” He got up and walked over to Winchester’s bowl, which he scraped his eggs into. “Why were you reading about kidney failure?”

“I was curious, but I was reading more about Vesicoureteral Reflux than kidney failure—that just happened to be a related subject that I decided to read up on while I was at it.”

Chase had been diagnosed with the disease as a child, but the doctors hadn’t figured out what was wrong until after they’d already performed six other surgeries looking for cysts and other issues. Once they’d finally gotten a proper diagnosis, they’d operated in an effort to reverse the reflux. Unfortunately, the first procedure hadn’t held and they’d had to perform a second one. Because of the multiple surgeries and the time spent undiagnosed, his kidneys had endured a lot of scarring.

When he was in his teens his doctor had warned them all that Chase would probably one day end up in kidney failure, which would require a transplant and possibly dialysis. Just after he’d graduated from college, Chase had found out he was in Stage 2 Chronic Kidney Disease, which meant his kidney function was definitely declining. A couple of years ago he’d been diagnosed as having Stage 3 Chronic Kidney Disease. Stage 4 basically meant he didn’t have much time before hitting End Stage Renal Failure, which meant a transplant, dialysis, or death.

Because his kidneys would most likely fail at some point in his thirties or forties and that the stress of high-level athletics could do more harm than good, Chase had chosen not to pursue a career in baseball, even though he’d been one of the best collegiate closers Matt had ever seen.

And he wasn’t just saying that because Chase was his little brother.

“So how have you been feeling here lately?”

Chase closed the door of the dishwasher. “I’ve been fine. A little tired, but I’m not getting enough sleep between work and Jo, and I’m not complaining about either.”

Matt wasn’t getting much sleep either these days, between worrying about his career and thinking about a certain redhead he’d left curled up in bed this morning.

“Speaking of, you’ve been looking pretty tired here lately yourself. Who’s got you tied up in knots?”

He allowed the change in subject. “What makes you think someone’s gotten me tied up in knots?”

Chase snorted. “Please. I know that look—I was seeing it in the mirror every day just a few weeks ago.”

Matt shrugged, hoping he looked casual rather than guilty. Why he felt guilty he didn’t know, but the feeling was definitely one he’d gotten to know a little too well here lately. Hell, if he were totally honest with himself, he’d been feeling guilty regarding Jenn for the past ten years. “No one’s got me tied up in knots. I just have a lot on my mind.”

“You any closer to an answer regarding your career after baseball?”

“Not a fucking clue.”

Chase shook his head. “How have you not thought about this before?”

Matt casually sipped his coffee. “Have you thought about what you’re going to do once Jo goes back to Austin?”

“Not a fucking clue.”

Matt tried to fight the smirk that stole across his lips, but couldn’t. “It appears I’m not the only one who’s been living in the moment.”

“Shut it, asshole.”

“Hey, now!” Matt held up his free hand. “I’m just your big brother who cares and wants to see you happy.”

“Since when have you cared about how happy I am, Matt?”

He set his mug down on the counter. “Do you really believe that?”

Chase shrugged. “You’ve always cared more about yourself and your career, and I get that to an extent. I could have been in a similar position and I’m not, but I have at least an idea of what the pressure cooker’s like. You’ve just always seemed to care more about Matt than anyone else.”

“Once upon a time I did care more about myself than anyone else. People change.”

Chase peered at him. “I don’t know that you’ve changed all that much, bro.”

“Believe what you want, but I have,” he placed his coffee mug in the dishwasher and started to walk out of the kitchen, tired and confused and feeling too many emotions to name.

“Seriously, dude? You’re gonna start this conversation and then walk out on it without even participating? Whatever. You keep talking about changing and being different but we both know it’s just bullshit.”

Matt whirled and stormed back to his brother, poked Chase in the chest as he said, “You don’t know what you’re talking about, Chase. Everyone sees what they want to see, and that’s my fault—I only let people see what I want them to see, so what else should I expect. I’m not good at expressing emotions or letting people in. You of all people should get that at least.”

Chase grabbed his finger and scoffed. “You? Not good at expressing emotions? You’re like one big emotion factory you dipshit. All you do is emote here lately, but no one has any clue why. You emote and then you spout weird philosophical stuff that would make Augie Garrido proud, and then you disappear for hours on end and come back once again emoting all over the fucking place. You’re right though about one thing, Matt—you don’t let people see you, to the point I’m not even sure who you are anymore and I’m you’re fucking brother!”

Matt snatched his finger away and glowered. “I do not emote all over the place.”

“Yes, you do. That’s not the point, though, Matt.”

“Well what is the point, then?” He barely refrained from yelling, the tension with Chase, the tension with Jenn, and the news of Tyler that he was still processing creating a pressure cooker inside of his heart.

“Who are you, Matt? Are you Matt Roberts, the Wranglers’ Ace and future Hall of Famer? Are you Matthew Roberts, son of Bo and Sarah Roberts and my brother? Are you Matt, the guy whose future is completely up in the air right now? Or are you someone else altogether?”

Weren’t those just the million dollar questions?

He took a step back, and kept taking steps back until he bumped into the island. “I honestly don’t know. It’s probably easier to list who I’m not.”

“Well then, start there.”

He blew out a stream of air, looked out the window over the sink and stared at everything and nothing. “I’m not the jerk you think I am, that’s for sure.”

“Fine. Fair enough. You’re not a jerk. I call you that mostly to razz you anyway.”

“I know. And I let you. But…I don’t know who I am right now, Chase. I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to pitch again, and baseball’s been my life for the past twenty years at least. Sometimes I feel like I don’t know who I am without a baseball in my hand, which is kind of sad and pathetic when you think about it.”

“Give yourself a break, Matt. Like you said, baseball’s been your life for the past twenty years. That’s a long time, and an old dog like you doesn’t learn tricks quite as easily as he once did.”

“Dude, you’re two years younger than me, therefore you’re in no position to talk about me being an old dog unless you’re willing to call yourself an old dog, too.”

Chase chuckled. “Sometimes I swear you should be an English teacher.”

Everything inside of him went still, got hot then cold in an instant. “Why would you say that?”

“Have you never heard yourself speak? Your grammar is sometimes better than Jenn’s, and if the two of you could ever get along you could probably team up and kick everyone’s asses at Scrabble and Boggle.”

He wasn’t about to tell Chase that he often played Boggle online and on his phone. He also wasn’t going to tell Chase that he and Jenn were getting along; that was something he currently wanted to keep to himself considering how new their truce was.

“I don’t think I would have the patience to teach English.”

“Maybe not English, but have you ever thought about coaching? I’ve seen you at summer camps with kids—you’re a natural and surprisingly a great teacher.”

Thoughts of Tyler suddenly flooded his brain. What would he have been like? Would he have been athletic and a baseball lover like him and Chase or would he have been bookish like Jenn? Would he have had Jenn’s red hair or his dark brown hair? Her green eyes or his hazel ones? Would he have gotten all the best parts of both of them, or all the worst parts?