The Lies We Tell Read online

  Maybe I should have denied it. But I didn’t.

  Maybe I didn’t want to lie to her.

  Or maybe I was pissed she saw through me so easily.

  Chapter 5

  Becca

  The first week went by fast. I stayed busy and the rush from working with big leaguers made the days seem short. I mostly did physical therapy with the catchers, stretching them out before practice and patching them up after practice.

  I was also able to get baseline physicals done on almost everyone as well.

  Not Chase, though. He never came to see me. He never needed anything. I even asked the other interns if they had seen him, but no one had helped him with anything all week.

  That was impossible.

  Being an athlete required taking care of their bodies as thoroughly as possible. In Chase’s brief history report, he consistently sought before and after care for muscles and joints.

  His change in routine didn’t go unnoticed by just me, either. Gary approached me asking what procedures Chase had been given and I had no answer for him.

  “Get him in the shop, give him that check-up. Tell him we need a new baseline,” Gary demanded.

  Sure, Gary, that sounds super easy.

  But the rest of the team was supposed to be here tomorrow, and games started the day after that. So, it was now or never.

  I eased into the locker room and looked around for Chase. He was sitting at a table with a few pitchers, and Kace, playing cards.

  “Hey, Chase?” I called out, not wanting to approach their table.

  They all looked my way. Chase had his eyebrows raised; no doubt surprised I dared to bother him.

  “I need you in the training room.”

  He didn’t move, he just turned his head back to the game and said, “I’m good.”

  I wasn’t sure how to go from there. My plan was for him to just say, "Ok," and follow me. I should have known he would make this hard. Kace was peeking up, no doubt analyzing how I would approach this.

  “Actually, Turner, you don’t understand,” maybe using just his last name would sound more authoritative. Not that I held authority over him, but I need to sound confident and strong. I was not going to let him be the reason I failed at this job. “It wasn’t really a question.”

  They all looked back my way, heads turning like they synchronized it, with surprised looks on their faces. And no one more surprised than Kace. That’s right, I got this.

  “Actually, Princess, you don’t understand. I don’t need any PT. If I do need it, I will let Gary know.”

  Oh no he didn’t. Where did he get off calling me Princess? Not in this context and not in that tone.

  Kace must have seen the shift in me because as I stomped toward their table, I heard him mutter, “Oh shit.”

  I leaned in close to Chase, closer than I wanted to, and….sniffed. I freaking sniffed. But oh he smelled so good, like clean earthy musk. He hadn’t been to work out yet for the day and was still dressed in athletic shorts and a t-shirt, which he wore every day to and from the hotel.

  What the hell was wrong with me? I was losing my train of thought. And he noticed because whatever he saw on my face empowered him to smirk at me.

  Nope. Nope. Nope.

  I backed away quickly, “You stink.”

  That may have been the biggest lie I ever told. It was the first thing I thought of, I didn’t know what else to say.

  He smirked like he knew I was just trying to save face, but he didn’t call me out. Instead, he shrugged and said, “Go away, then.”

  At this point, our interaction had become a show for the others. Cards were dropped and all eyes were on our exchange, waiting for what was coming next.

  I waited for a beat, contemplating my next move. I wasn't losing this battle.

  “Ok, then. I will see you out there in 15 minutes," I finally said.

  “Out where?”

  “The field. If you won’t come to me, I will come to you.”

  “That isn’t necessary, Princess.” More of that patronizing nickname.

  “Actually, it is, Pancake.” Pancake? Really Becca? Fucking Pancake? OK. So name-calling wasn't my strong suit. I would work on those.

  He laughed at my nickname but still shook me off. “What is it you don’t understand? If I am fine, I am fine. You’re new here, but that’s the way this works. I have been doing this longer than you’ve known what a boner is, so back off.”

  Kace started to move his chair and stand up. He probably drew the line at one of these guys talking to me this way and using ‘boner’ no doubt, but that was locker room talk and I could handle it. Chase was trying to scare me off by being crude, but it wouldn’t work, and Kace was not about to blow my cover.

  “Ok, Butter Boy, I will just write what I see in the report Gary asked me to turn in.” I cringed at my new nickname try, but hell, pancakes and butter were freaking delicious together. What else was there?

  I know, I know. I still vowed to work on my name game.

  But Chase hardly acknowledged the name this time. His face went white and he started shifting uncomfortably. He knew I saw him; he knew I noticed his struggle. I let it go all week because I had guessed he was seeing one of the other interns or trainers about it. Instead, as it turns out, he was just a pompous idiot.

  I left it at that and turned around, stomping toward the doors back to the training room. I grabbed my phone and shot Ali a quick text.

  Becca: Tell Kace to stand down, I got this.

  Ali: Got what?

  Becca: Just deliver my message and I will fill you in when we talk tonight.

  Ali: oooooooooo kkkkkkkkkk

  I slipped my phone back in my pocket and walked into the training room. All the other interns were wrapping ankles and elbows.

  Manny was waiting on me at a table, needing my help stretching out. He was Chase’s backup but would be the new starter if something ever happened to Chase. Which was looking pretty promising considering I may poke his damn eyes out.

  Manny and I started his routine. Stretch, pull, rub, bend, repeat. He was a nice enough guy but seemed cockier than he should have been, and it made me want to roll my eyes the whole time we worked together.

  After Manny, one of the other guys approached with a blister. Another with a sore neck. Another with a fever that had to be sent back to the hotel and quarantined until he was better.

  Before I knew it, two hours had gone by and it was time to head to the field for the days’ workout. I packed a waist pack full of small medical supplies—ointments, band-aids, and gauze—and snapped it onto my waist. By the time I was ready, the entire training room had been cleared out. I took one last look around for anything I may need and headed for the door.

  As I made my way out, Chase made his way in, so I stopped.

  “You win, Princess.”

  I ignored the nickname. I considered ignoring him, as well. I should just follow through with my threat. It obviously bothered him and bothering him seemed fun at this point.

  “Gary is on the field,” I mentioned, in case he was looking for him.

  “I’m not looking for Gary. What do you need me to do?”

  “Gary wants a check up on you to start the season. He hasn’t seen you in here all week. That’s my job.”

  “Well, I did tell you I was fine, didn’t I?” He looked at me like what he was saying was the truth and I should just accept it. But we both knew damn well it was a lie.

  “Yes, but unfortunately, I can’t write in a report: Said he’s fine.”

  He sighed heavily, “Get it over with.”

  “Did my threat to follow you to the field scare you that much?” I quipped.

  “Nope. What do you want?” Liar.

  “For you to stop calling me Princess,” I deadpanned.

  He smirked, “Ok, Cupcake.”

  “I mean it, Dickhead. I am not losing this job opportunity because of what I lack between my legs. And your little nicknames are demeaning he
re.”

  “As opposed to…?” he led.

  “As opposed to what?”

  “You said my nicknames are demeaning here, where would they not be?”

  Oh, for the love of carrot cake.

  “You know what I mean, asshole.”

  “How come you get to name call?”

  “Because your job isn’t on the line,” I fired back, practically yelling. Why was I giving him this much insight? He didn't need to know that shit.

  He didn’t respond. He only straightened his stance and looked off at something random on the wall to his right. He wasn’t looking at me, so I looked at him.

  Since I had left him in the locker room, he had changed into his uniform. I wouldn’t be human if I didn’t notice the way it hugged his muscular body. He had a tattoo peeking from below one of his sleeves. A scruffy and strong jawline that was ticking in frustration. His hat was on, pulled low over his dark brown eyes. His hands were on his hips.

  I tried not to drool as I waited for him to say something. As Gary had said, ogling the players was "inappropriate". But surely, he didn't mean Chase, too. Because Chase was a man among boys as far as I was concerned. Despite his sour attitude and ability to make me want to stab him, he was super easy on the eyes. I would have had to be blind to not ogle a little.

  He was a veteran player that had been in the league since I was 14. Even though he hadn’t spent all those years with the Kings, I saw him on all the sports channels. I had always been a fan.

  Although now that I knew him personally, I was reconsidering my loyalties.

  Cam and Kace never told me much about him--just that he was always giving them good-natured shit. Since I had been here, though, I didn’t see anything good-natured about him.

  “Ok,” he finally said.

  “Ok?” I snapped my eyes up, confused what the question was. Oh yeah, his baseline.

  “Yep, let’s do a physical and then be done. Deal?”

  I hesitantly nodded, wondering why a damn physical was such a big deal to a ballplayer. Shouldn't he be used to this?

  “Now?”

  “Tomorrow.”

  “I have to have the report in by tomorrow,” I stressed.

  “Then I will meet you here, tonight. But not now. Ethan is in the bullpen waiting on a catcher.”

  “I’ll be here,” I said nicely as he walked out.

  When I took this job, I don’t think I anticipated unruly players being an issue. Especially veterans. Most athletes wanted to take care of their bodies, and trainers were the catalyst to help them see that through. We were the good guys.

  So, I absolutely, 100%, fully expected to find Chase in that training room after everyone else had cleared out that night. I never doubted for a minute he would show up knowing he needed me just as much as I needed him to be successful.

  Only, it was now 10 pm. I had been waiting since 6 pm.

  I missed dinner.

  I was tired.

  I had been working for 16 straight hours.

  My clothes were rumpled.

  My feet hurt.

  My brain was on the blink.

  And that bastard still wasn’t here.

  I didn't know what made me think he would show, that I could trust him to help me--to help him. But I knew one thing for absolute certain:

  Chase Turner was a stupid, fucking liar!

  Chapter 6

  Chase

  “Dad? What are you doing here?” I was called out of the locker room after practice by security. They told me someone was outside the door “claiming to be my father."

  Well, they weren’t wrong. My drunk ass dad was definitely here, in Florida, at the stadium.

  “Can’t an old man come to see his son play?”

  “No dad, they can’t. Not when they can’t put down a liquor bottle long enough to function," I snapped, anger coming off me in waves.

  “Nonsense. I haven’t dranken in 3… whole…. minutes,” he laughed, with a slur in his words.

  “How did you even get here from Atlanta? I paid my housekeeper double to help you and keep an eye on you. Why come here?” I was leading my dad away from the locker room door, walking down a corridor that the grounds crew used hoping to hide from anyone that may pass by.

  “I drove your fancy car,” dad shrugged.

  That made me lose it. “You drove? You thought a 7-hour drive was a good idea?”

  “Your car is fine, son.”

  “I’m not worried about the car!”

  “I’m fine, son.”

  “I’m not worried about you, either!” I yelled. “You could have killed someone. Maybe you already did! Where is the damn car?”

  “I had trouble parking it, so I left it in a safe spot.”

  “Where. Is. The car?” I repeated evenly, my tone was almost lethal. I didn’t even know which of my five cars he had. I had flown down here with a few of the guys to avoid the hassle of having a car here at all. I should have brought all the keys with me, though.

  This was a mess. I didn’t want this to infiltrate my game. I wanted to keep this separate and deal with it. I needed to get him out of here as soon as possible and mitigate the damage. I didn’t even change my clothes or say goodbye. I grabbed my dad’s elbow and pulled him toward the exit.

  Luckily, I had kept my phone in my hand when I walked out, so I had it with me. I ordered an Uber and we were at a hotel across town in no time. I got him settled into a room where he passed out and I made arrangements to get him back to Atlanta first thing the next morning.

  I didn’t have a mom, she died a few years back, which is why dad drank in the first place. I didn’t have siblings. I didn’t have cousins or uncles. No living grandparents. It was up to me and me alone to handle my dad.

  Up until the end of last season, he was a functioning drunk. That didn’t mean it was right, but that did mean he was his own problem, not mine. Now, I didn’t know what to do with him.

  All I knew was I was going to put him on a plane in the morning and have my housekeeper pick him up at the airport. I was going to have to triple her salary.

  Once I made sure dad was nice and passed the fuck out, I called another Uber to drive me around and help me find my car. After an $86 fare and a $300 tip, I found it. Dear old dad had brought my Maserati Levante—not my most expensive car but definitely my favorite—double parked it at a grocery store close to the hotel and the stadium and put a dent on the front driver's side fender. It didn’t look like the damage happened here, which made me both relieved and worried. Chances were, I would never find out what happened because he wouldn’t remember.

  I tried the door and it was still unlocked--the keys still in the ignition. Lovely.

  I guess I should have been thankful it was still here at all.

  I hopped in and cranked it up, looking around at the inside to assess the damage in there. Luckily nothing stood out except receipts from five different liquor stores that laid in the console. I angrily tossed them in the back to get them out of my sight.

  I decided I would just take the car to the hotel for now and use it. I could drive it home after spring training was over. Hopefully, no one would question how it got down here. But if they did, I would just lie and tell them I had it brought down.

  I still needed to get back to my dad, but something told me I had plenty of time to get to my hotel room for a shower and to change before he even thought about stirring awake. Hell, it was already 10:30 pm, he was probably going to be out of it for the rest of the night.

  I used the hot water of the shower to loosen up my muscles and ease the tension in my shoulders. The stress of the day was so heavy that I had almost forgotten I had knee pain at all. The shower was helping. I was finally letting the drama of the day go when I heard a pounding coming from the main space of my hotel room.

  Then the noise was gone.

  Then it was back.

  Someone was at the door and it sounded urgent.

  For the love of all things bas
eball please don’t be about my dad.

  I grabbed a towel and without drying off, I threw it around my waist and ran for the door. I opened it quickly, ready to pull my dad into the room.

  But it wasn’t my dad.

  It wasn’t even about my dad. It was Becca. And she was pissed.

  Worse than pissed.

  “Oh shit,” I muttered. It was just now dawning on me; I was supposed to meet her tonight. She was still in her work clothes, her hair was in a messy bun-type style, her shoes were in her hand, and her eyes were fervor with anger.

  I don’t think I had ever seen anything sexier in my life.

  “Oh shit? Is that all you have to say?” she yelled, breaking my lust-filled trance.

  “Keep it down,” I warned.

  “Do you not realize what it is like to be a woman in this business? Do you not realize how small matters like ‘not turning in a simple check up on the team’s number one catcher’ affect me? This is a man’s world and I have to be respected to be successful and you are fucking it all up. Gary wants a report to start the season, I told him no problem. But guess what, Princess? You’re screwing this up for me.”

  I was holding my towel with one hand but pulled her into my room with the other hand, shutting the door so the whole complex didn’t hear her. She stumbled from my sudden force and once she righted herself, she realized I was in my towel and she was in my room.

  “What are you doing?” She asked like she wasn’t the one that knocked on my door and yelled at me.

  “I was showering before lady goliath showed up at my door, so this is what you get, Crazy Kingkiller.” I had a hard time keeping a straight face. She didn’t like Princess or Cupcake, but her Crazy Kingkiller didn’t seem to sit well either. I don’t even know where the hell I pulled that name out from. I just know I refused to call her Becca. Becca made her too tempting.

  “I’m outta here!” She yelled.

  She started for the door, but I grabbed her elbow and whirled her around. “Oh no you don’t.”

  I was playing with fire. I was so damn hot for this woman that it made me two kinds of mad. I was naked and she was over here losing her shit on me and the combination of all that was bound to make this entirely too challenging.