~ Chapter Sixty Nine ~

Stacy closed the front door and stepped over the equipment bag laying on the floor in the entryway.  It wasn't as if Nick was pressed for time the next few months, one would think he could pick up after himself.  Then again, one would also think that seven months was enough time to unpack and get settled into a house, and he still hadn't managed to do that.  The video games and the clothes seemed to be the only things that were unpacked. 

She had more or less been unofficially staying at Nick's house since the end of the baseball season.  It made a nasty commute to work for her, but still, she wasn't too comfortable with the idea of leaving Nick alone.  Maybe she was being paranoid, or maybe she was just babying him a little too much, but she still had the nagging feeling that if she didn't, he'd go off the deep end and end up doing something they'd both regret.

Nick was home, somewhere.  His car was in the driveway, and his keys and sunglasses were both tossed on the end of the kitchen counter.  He wasn't on the floor in front of the TV, which meant chances were, he wasn't having a good day.  Lately he had been going through two moods, one where he'd disappear off by himself for hours, and the other where he practically clung to her side. 

He had a small batting cage set up in his backyard, complete with pitching machine.  Stacy had always wondered if it was a standard staple in the back yards of major leaguers all over the country, or if this was something strange that Nick did.  She could see the cage from the kitchen window, Nick standing in the box, bat in hand, swinging away as the machine shot baseballs at him.

Stacy let herself out the French doors leading onto the back deck, pulling her jacket around her as she crossed the yard to the side of the cage.  Nick remained focused on the white balls spinning in towards him, lower lip clenched between his teeth, swinging hard.  Stacy wasn't sure if he knew she was there and was ignoring her, or if he was so focused on the pitches that he had no clue what else was happening around him.

"How long have you been here?"  Nick didn't miss a swing, sending the pitch into the blue canvas at the other end of the cage with a loud pop. 

 "I just got here.  How long have you been out here?"  He looked as if he had been out there for quite some time.

"I don't know."  Nick swung again, sending a one hopper into the canvas.  "Today's been a pretty crappy day."  He punctuated this statement by slamming another ball into the canvas.

Stacy flinched.  Even being on the other side of the fence, it made her slightly nervous -  the speed his bat was moving, and the force the balls were flying away from it.  "What happened?"

Nick stopped swinging, the next couple pitches whizzing past him into the backstop.  "Where do you want me to start?"

"Chronological order is always nice."  Stacy offered.

She thought she saw a tiny smile flicker across his face, but she wasn't sure in the semi-light as the sun finished setting.  "Okay, I woke up.  Things went downhill from there."  He stepped over to turn off the pitching machine and started picking up the balls scattered around the cage. 

Stacy bit back a smile.  He still hadn't unpacked anything in the house, but he didn't leave the batting cage without picking up everything first.  "And after you woke up..." She prompted.

"Did you ever see Brian's apartment?"  Nick stopped tossing balls and straightened up to meet her eyes.

"No."  Stacy shook her head. 

Nick shrugged.  "He was kind of a pack rat.  I don't think he ever threw anything away.  And Kevin called me this morning, and he was trying to sort through all Brian's junk, and he wanted to know if I'd mind coming over."  He quit with that explanation and finished tossing the balls into the bucket next to the pitching machine.

"And you went over there?"  Stacy was more than a little surprised. 

"Yeah."  Nick shut the gate into the cage behind him and leaned up against the fence, taking off his hat and running his hands through his hair. 

"So... was it a good thing or a bad thing?"  Stacy pushed a little farther.

"I don't know.  Both, I guess."  Nick said in confusion, staring down at the black brim of the cap.  "I mean, it wasn't as hard as I thought it would be... but still..."  He trailed off, running his finger along the cap stitching. 

"Well, I think that officially qualifies as a bad day."  Stacy agreed.  Frankly, she was more than a little surprised that he had gone to Brian's apartment.  Ever since the season ended, he had carefully avoided all contact with anything that might involve Brian, excepting the team celebration last week. 

"I haven't even started yet."  He shrugged and started towards the house.

Stacy frowned and jogged after him.  She hated it when he did that.  They'd be in the middle of a discussion and Nick would just stand up and leave, without any warning or explanation.  She didn't know if he did it to try and regain his composure, or if he just didn't want to talk about the subject anymore.

He waited until he was sitting at the kitchen table, head propped on his arms, before continuing on.  "And I got home this afternoon... which needless to say, I was a little bummed out, ya know?"

Stacy had her head stuck halfway into the refrigerator as he was talking, trying to figure out if there was anything that looked remotely appetizing for dinner.  She wasn't quite sure if she had heard things correctly.  That had been a very open statement, coming from Nick.

"And then my Mom called."  Nick finished. 

"Ohh... not good?"  Stacy pulled the crisper drawer open.  "What happened?"

Nick shrugged.  "She called and picked on me for all the usual s---, and I got mad, and then she asked me if I was coming for Thanksgiving, and I told her no, and she hung up on me."  He straightened and eyed Stacy for a moment.  "There isn't anything to eat.  I need to go to the store."

"So, I see."  She closed the door and sat down across from him.  "Was that the end of your day?"

"Yeah, pretty much.  I spent the rest of it in the batting cage."

"Beating up a little white ball makes you feel better?" 

"Yep."  He stared back down at the tabletop, disappearing back into his own little world. 

Stacy sat and watched him for several minutes.  Even just sitting, who knew what thoughts processing through his head, he couldn't actually remain still.  She could hear his foot banging against the chair leg.  He raised one hand, absently running through the short hair on the back of his head. 

"You know when the last time I was over at Brian's was?"  He said finally, not quite making eye contact.

"No, I don't."  Stacy shook her head.

"After game five... when we had that fight."  He was staring directly at her now.  His eyes looked darker than their usual gray; they had more of an aqua tint to them.

"Is that where you disappeared to?"  She said in surprise.  "God, Nick, I was worried about you!  You were gone all night."

"Yeah, well... it doesn't matter now."  Nick shook his head.  "You're getting tired of putting up with all my crap, aren't you?"

"Well..." Stacy thought about it for a moment.  She wasn't about to outright lie and say it didn't bother her at all.  He could be frustrating, and more so than normal lately.   "I imagine I'm not nearly as tired of it as you are."

Nick stared at her, his face a combination of unhappiness and bewilderment.  "I was just thinking that.  How did you know that?"

"It wasn't too hard to guess." 

"Oh..."  He chewed on his lower lip for a moment, frowning down at his hands.  "I'm trying, Stacy.  I really am.  And I don't think it's making any difference."

Stacy pushed her chair back and circled around the table, impulsively giving him a hug.  "I think it is.  And things are going to get better.  Really.  I'm proud of you, Nick."  She was proud of him.  The longer she knew him and the more she learned about him, the more proud she became. 

Nick pulled her down until she was in his lap, arms still wrapped around his neck.  "When you first attacked my car, Brian's logic about the entire situation was that I got a cute redhead's phone number out of the deal."

Stacy frowned.  What did that have to do with anything?  And it was hardly fair calling it an attack.  He made it sound as if she had deliberately tried to hit his car with a shopping cart. 

"Boy, did he underestimate that one."  Nick finished softly.  "I got a lot more out of it than that."