Playing Catch: A Baseball Romance (14 page)

“What’s wrong with me?” She rested her head on the steering wheel and thought about the man who’d taught her how to be a whore.

“What’s a whore?” Her four-year-old self asked him. “Does a whore wet her panties all the time?”

He laughed at her while flinging her panties into the washing machine. “Yes, a whore wets her panties and gets a spanking.”

“I’m sorry.” She rubbed her eyes, biting her lips. “I don’t want to get spanked.”

“What do you call me?” His voice grew rough and he turned her around.

“Papa. Please don’t spank me.” She squeezed her eyes shut. “I’ll be a good girl. I won’t be a whore anymore.”

“Oh, you’ll be a good girl all right.” He grabbed her by the arm, hoisting her tiny body into the air and whacked her so hard she swung, dangling like that hangman in the children’s word game. “But you’ll always be a whore. All the pretty girls are whores, and you’re the prettiest of them all.”

Mirror, mirror on the wall, who’s the prettiest of them all? Jeanine. She’s the prettiest whore in your kingdom, and you must get rid of her. Toss her out before it’s too late.

Whack. Whack. Whack.

“Please, Papa, I love you. I love you. I’m sorry. I love you.”

Tears rolled down Jeanine’s face, mingling with cold sweat. She wasn’t four anymore, and no one was going to make her say she loved him. No more.

Except she had loved them, every one of her foster fathers. She’d run to them and cling to them, and had been the good little girl, wearing her pretty dresses and holding their hands. She’d kiss them for pictures and smile and tell everyone how happy she was that she had a father—that she wanted to stay.

Only she’d been moved from home to home to home, because the mothers hated her. Just like her own mother who’d left her at two months old.

“Damn. I’m so fucked.” Jeanine fished her cell phone from her purse. The urge to call Kirk bowled her over, and she shuddered, cold to the bone. He’d seen through her and had caught a glimpse of her secret. He’d suspected based on her out of control behavior, and now, he was giving her space, friend-zoning himself. There were no text messages from him. No missed calls. Nothing, except the comforting thought that he knew where she was through the tracking app. He cared enough to let her spend the night at his place when she was scared, but this morning, she got the distinct impression he’d regretted it. She’d played the tease on him, had him get her off, and hadn’t returned the favor—all because she couldn’t talk herself into mindlessly fucking anyone anymore.

But … that was Kirk. Not anyone. Kirk was the one she liked—the guy who cared.

Not anymore. Not after I left his balls blue.

Maybe she needed a little help. If she could get past her issues, she could allow Kirk to make love to her.

Make love? Where had that come from?

Jeanine tapped through her phone and brought up the contact for Dr. Leslie Sparks, Psychotherapist, specializing in Anger Management, Domestic Violence, and Sexual Addictions.

Her finger shook as she keyed in Dr. Sparks’ number. It was late in the evening. No one would be at the office. She could leave a message—for Tina’s sake. After all, Dr. Sparks helped victims of domestic abuse and Tina showed all the signs and symptoms. Denial, evasion, escape, followed by excuses for the perpetrator.

“Hello, this is Dr. Sparks,” a female voice answered the phone.

Jeanine’s breath caught in her throat. What could she say to the doctor? She’d know Jeanine was lying. That was how shrinks were. Nothing got past them.

“Is anyone there?” The doctor’s voice was mellow and pleasant.

“Yes …” Jeanine croaked. “I’m calling for a friend. She needs help.”

“I can definitely help. What does your friend need?”

“I suspect she’s being abused. She moved in with me and said her boyfriend kicked her out because she lost her job. I think she’s scared of him.”

“Did she tell you she’s afraid of him?” Dr. Sparks asked.

“No, not in so many words, but she went back to him already. I thought I should help her.”

“That’s awfully good of you,” the doctor reassured. “Is she in any immediate danger?”

“No, I don’t think so,” Jeanine answered quickly. “She’s fine. Everything’s fine, so far.”

“But you’re worried about her, is that right?”

“Yes, I am. I’m afraid she’s in denial. She doesn’t want to see a problem.”

“Most of us don’t, or at least we cover up for those around us. It’s a survival mechanism, because we don’t want to expose our weaknesses.”

“That’s true. I think she was abused growing up, but I can never get her to talk about it.”

“It might be better for her to talk to me, but you can’t set up an appointment for her. She has to be willing to take the first step.”

“She doesn’t want to.”

“Then, there’s nothing we can do for her, unless she’s in imminent danger,” Dr. Sparks said.

Nothing we can do for her
, Jeanine repeated in her mind. Did this apply to her too? Was this why Kirk had backed off? There was nothing he could do for her. Not that he didn’t want to help.

Jeanine swallowed sour bile and took a deep breath. “Dr. Sparks? Maybe there’s something you can do for me. I’ve been told I’m a sex addict. I do a lot of one-night stands, but lately I met a man and I want to change.”

“I’ll be glad to help you. Let’s set up an appointment. I’m glad you’re taking the first step.”

“I’m not even sure what’s wrong with me. I just know I need to change. I want to be normal, and I don’t think my sexual response is normal.”

“At least you’re self-aware enough to see the problem,” the doctor said. “Half the battle is won already.”

“I hope so. I really, really hope so.” Saying those words lit a tiny flame in Jeanine’s heart. Maybe she still had a chance. Maybe George Simpson hadn’t stolen her childhood and all her dreams. Maybe someone would love a pathetic creature like her. Maybe she could finally stop pretending everything was okay. Maybe she could live again. Maybe she would love again, this time, with someone her own age.

With someone who wasn’t fucking abusing her.

K
irk didn’t think
he was qualified to be a sex addict any longer. The night before, he hadn’t been interested in the hot party women he’d met, and several times, he’d driven by Jeanine’s apartment, fighting the urge to knock on her door and check up on her.

He hadn’t called or texted her. That was to his credit, but there wasn’t a minute that went by that he didn’t want to see her. The night she’d spent at his place had been too short, and he should have tried to keep her. But wouldn’t that make him a wuss? A chump to be cheated on?

For all he knew, she’d recovered from her sex freeze and had been out on a booty call. Not that he was tracking or anything. He was only driving by in case the stalker was in the vicinity.

Kirk had a game later in the afternoon, but he’d taken a break for an appointment with Dr. Sparks. Since he didn’t stop at Jeanine’s, he continued straight to the doctor’s office and arrived a few minutes early.

“Dr. Sparks will be with you shortly,” the receptionist said to Kirk and handed him a clipboard. “Please fill out this questionnaire so the doctor can be aware of your concerns.”

“Sure, thanks.” He checked his watch. He didn’t have much time before he had to be at the clubhouse. The guys were already ragging him about coming in late and leaving early, but this was important.

Clutching the packet of letters, he took a seat and glanced at the books on the doctor’s bookshelf and the diplomas on her wall. Not only was she a specialist on sexual addictions, she also dealt with anger management and domestic abuse. He took his time answering the detailed questions that probed his sex life and his feelings about his activities. Maybe Jeanine could benefit from some counseling. She definitely had issues dealing with sex, and judging from what he’d read, it was likely she’d been abused, although she’d never admit to it.

A few minutes later, the receptionist called for Kirk to enter the doctor’s office.

“How nice to meet you, Mr. Kennedy,” Dr. Sparks said, shaking his hand. She took the questionnaire Kirk had filled out and sat behind her desk. “I understand you wanted to see me about your sexual addiction?”

“Actually, I have a question about a friend. She’s having trouble with impulse control, and I suspect she’s been abused as a child.”

The doctor frowned, drawing down her eyebrows. “I’m afraid I can’t talk to you about your friend. But please, tell me about yourself. I understand how people are reluctant to open up about such an intimate topic and oftentimes use a ‘friend’ as a prop to start the conversation.”

“Sure, I get it.” Kirk wiped his hand over his forehead. “So, let’s talk about me. I have a very awkward relationship with my mother.”

He went on to inform the doctor how he’d caught his mother having sex with a lot of men and wondering if that was the reason he was unable to settle down, to commit to one woman.

The doctor nodded, agreeing. “I think you’re figuring out some of the reasons you react the way you do. The sexual addiction is definitely a symptom of unmet needs. Maybe you’re looking to get back at your mother every time you ‘catch and release’ as you indicated. Rejecting someone before they reject you.”

“I believe you’re right. I used to think it was a good thing I never got involved. I had freedom from nagging, no one to answer to, and definitely no diaper changing and late night feedings.” He chuckled to lighten the conversation. “Except I met a writer who pointed out that I also didn’t get to cuddle the same woman, night after night, and that no one really cared about me.”

“I’m guessing you met someone you’d like to know better,” the doctor said, making a note. “And she’s important enough for you to want to change.”

“Yes, she is, except she’s got a big problem. She’s just like me, unable to get attached to anyone, and I suspect she’s been abused.”

“Is she getting help?” Dr. Sparks’ face filled with concern.

“I asked her to, but I’m giving her space and not hovering over her to make sure she’s seeing a therapist.”

“That’s wise of you. Not many men are able to have such well-defined boundaries. That’s actually a good thing for her recovery—knowing that she has to take the initiative and not lean on you for direction.”

“She’s a very independent woman,” Kirk said. “We’re not really in a relationship yet. We’re just friends right now.”

“Sounds smart. I do want to caution you that recovering from sexual addiction, especially if caused by abuse, takes time and there will be setbacks along the way. Being friends takes some of the pressure off, and allows her not to be confused about your motivations.”

Kirk breathed deeply and nodded. “I only want what’s best for her, although I have to admit I’m interested in her.”

After the doctor gave Kirk a few exercises to do at home, mainly writing things down and recognizing triggers, Kirk brought the envelope full of letters onto the table.

“There’s one more thing.” He pulled out the letters. “My mother sent these letters to me. Could you read a few of them and tell me what you think?”

“Sure. It might help me understand more about your relationship with her.” The doctor took the envelope but didn’t pull out the letters.

“Actually they’re not from her to me. It’s something I found disturbing and I don’t know why she sent them to me. Could you read them now? I need to know what you think.”

She glanced at her clock. “We only have a few minutes, and I’d rather have time to formulate my response.”

“I understand, but I need your reaction to know what I should do about these.” Kirk’s knee jittered under the table. If what he suspected was true, Jeanine was in worse shape than she’d let on.

“I would need to study these further,” Dr. Sparks said. “Let’s talk about the relationship your mother had with your father. Shall we?”

“Maybe next time.” Kirk stood and took back the letters. He was more interested in the doctor’s reaction to the letters, but at the same time, he didn’t need her to confirm his suspicions. Jeanine had been in a Stockholm syndrome-like relationship, and if these letters were real, and not something made up to spook him about her, then whoever had written them was a very sick man.

J
eanine blew
into her hands and took a deep breath to keep from hyperventilating, as the elevator beeped its way up to Dr. Sparks’ office. She was going to do this—get the help she’d denied she needed. Now that she’d met Kirk, she couldn’t stand the thought of being anything less than one hundred percent. That episode in his bedroom had been appalling. How could she tease him like that and fail to deliver? She’d always been good about giving and getting when it came to sex—an even exchange.

What must Kirk think about her now? A sizzling chill gripped her limbs as the elevator came to a stop. Maybe the reason he wasn’t calling or texting her was because he wanted nothing to do with her now that he knew she came with baggage. A guy like him could have any woman he wanted, and with the competition to get onto the team roster and be the Rattlers’ regular catcher, he didn’t have time for her and her issues. He was used to getting his rocks off and any woman would do. She was right to retreat to being friends with him.

She straightened her shoulders and tossed her hair back. It wasn’t good to get too dependent on what he thought about her. If he was finished with her, at least he’d gotten her to see her need for help. She had that to be grateful for.

The elevator door opened and her heart stuttered.

Kirk was standing on the other side about to enter.

“Hey, how’re you doing?” He smiled and waited for her to step out.

“I’m … I’m on my way to see a therapist.” She walked from the elevator with her posture straight and tall. She’d read somewhere that pet birds disguised their discomforts very well, to the extent that their owners were unaware if they were ill, mainly because in the wild, they couldn’t afford to let predators know their weakened condition and single them out for attack.

“That’s wonderful.” He extended his arms for a hug. “I just had an appointment.”

Her heart was already fluttering from the impending appointment, but seeing Kirk so friendly and welcoming had her sighing inside. She stepped to him and melted into his arms.

“I’m so glad to see you. I missed you.” She spoke to his chest, her eyes closed against the heat of his body.

“I missed you, too. You don’t know how many times I wanted to stop by your bar and visit.” He kissed the top of her head.

“I have to do this on my own.” She exhaled and backed away to look at him. “I hope you don’t think I’m unrepairable.”

“You’re not beyond repair.” He touched her cheek. His simple gesture warmed her heart more than any reassuring words he could have given her.

“Thank you, Kirk. That means a lot.” She wanted to close her eyes and lean into his hand, wished he would kiss her, and maybe, just maybe, take her away down the elevator so she wouldn’t have to speak to the doctor—at least not today.

But he released her and gave her a tiny push toward the doctor’s office. “Go before you’re late.”

“Will you wait for me? Maybe we can have coffee and compare notes.”

“I would love to, but I have to be at the clubhouse.” Kirk rubbed his hand across the back of his neck. “I’m playing this afternoon.”

She touched his forearm to keep the connection longer. “I’ve never seen you play.”

“Then, you’re in for a treat. Can you get away from the bar to attend the game?” His eyes twinkled as he dug tickets from his pocket. “I always have a few handy. Here, home plate seats.”

“I’ll take two.”

“Don’t tell me you have a date.” He peeled out two printed tickets.

“My sparring partner, Skye. She’s been hinting about meeting some of the players.” Jeanine gave Kirk a wink. “Not that I’d introduce her to you, because I’m kind of wanting to keep the best to myself.”

“Smart cookie. I’ll see you after the game for autographs.” He flashed her an arrogant smirk and jabbed the elevator button.

Jeanine kept her grin pasted on her face as she turned the corner down to the doctor’s office. Had Kirk blown her off? She’d better be careful about laying claim to him. Guys like him didn’t like clingy women, and heck, she usually wasn’t possessive. Her stomach growled and clenched in on itself, calling her on the lie.

Okay, so she’d been fishing, wondering whether he’d been going out with other women, and yes, hoping for a compliment that he also considered keeping her for himself, too.

Get a grip. The man’s a player and getting treated for sexual addiction. He’s got commitment issues. Why would he want to settle for a basket case like me? Especially one who can’t finish what she starts?

She pushed the door open into the reception area for Dr. Sparks. The receptionist was speaking to another patient, so Jeanine grabbed a magazine and stood a fair distance away. Her heart thudded like a nail gun and her stomach turned queasily. Was she truly ready to talk about herself to a therapist? This was going to hurt.

But then, George was out of jail, and in her heart of hearts, she knew he’d contact her one way or another. He’d taken a plea, telling the press that he hadn’t wanted to expose her by going through a trial. He’d said he was sorry, but not sorry for loving her, and that when he got out of jail, she’d be an adult and that she’d wait for him.

Had she done exactly that? Was that why she couldn’t find a normal man and build a life with him?

“Miss,” the receptionist said. “Do you have an appointment?”

“Yes, I do. I’m a new patient. My name’s Jeanine Jewell.”

“Great. Nice to meet you, Miss Jewell.” The receptionist handed her a clipboard with a pile of papers. “Please fill out this questionnaire and the doctor will see you in half an hour.”

“Sure, thanks.” Jeanine’s mouth dried up as she grabbed a pen and perused the questionnaire. The first few questions weren’t too bad, but the ones on the second page were intrusive.

Are you or your partner concerned about your sexual behavior?

Were you sexually abused as a child or adolescent?

Do you often find yourself preoccupied with sexual thoughts?

Have you felt degraded by your sexual behaviors?

When you have sex, do you feel depressed afterwards?

Has sex (or romantic fantasies) been a way for you to escape your problems?

Do you ever think your sexual desire is stronger than you are?

She hated checking yes, yes, yes, yes. Damn, she was a mess if her sexual desire was stronger than she was.

Jeanine had always prided herself on her strength. It was all she had. The strength to not be a victim, to survive until she was old enough to save money, put herself in college, and buy a share of a business.

She was strong. She had to be stronger than something stupid like sex.

But then, around Kirk, she was a weakling. So weak that she’d practically thrown herself at him. So weak that fear crawled up her throat at the thought of Kirk turning away from her. If he’d been the one to freeze up on her, how would she have felt?

Jeanine scanned the rest of the survey full of questions dealing with sex with strangers. She’d never done some of the more risky things like cruise public restrooms and parks looking for sex with strangers. And yuck, she’d never had sex with minors or joined sex clubs and engaged in sadomasochistic acts.

Had George ever taken a survey like this? Had he gotten treatment in jail? Maybe they’d let him out because he was reformed.

Would he contact her and explain why he did the things he did? Did she want him to?

Jeanine hurriedly finished the survey, checking yes to the question:
Do you believe casual or anonymous sex has kept you from having more long-term intimate relationships?

This was the reason she came to Dr. Sparks. She wanted to be normal, but at the same time, being normal was scary. Who’d want to be in a long-term intimate relationship with her?

Certainly not Kirk Kennedy.

A dark cloud draped over Jeanine at the casual way he’d handed her the tickets, as if she were another one of the groupies who followed him around for an autograph and a one-nighter.