Change of Heart (6 page)

“What are you studying?”

“Psychology. I hope to be a counselor someday.”

“You always were so smart, Casey. You can be anything you want to be.”

Despite the warmth his kind words send through my body, the smile leaves my face. “Right.” If he picks up on the change in my demeanor, he doesn’t say anything, and I kind of love him for that.

“You like California?”

“I do,” I tell him, silently appreciating the segue. “I really like being in the Bay Area. San Francisco is lovely. The Golden Gate Bridge is more beautiful in person than in pictures. There are so many great restaurants and things to do.”

He laughs quietly, “Sounds like you love it.”

“I do. What about you? How’s school? Baseball? I was surprised to see you home in the middle of the season.”

He sighs and rolls onto his back. I immediately miss his warmth and a chill runs through me as I get the impression that what I am about to hear isn’t going to be good. “School is great. I really like USC. I’ve had a lot of fun, and it’s nice being close to home.”

I roll over to face him, not believing the monotone drivel that just came out of his mouth. His eyes are closed tight and the pained look on his face brings me to a pause.
What isn’t he telling me?
“Baseball?”

He exhales and opens his eyes, staring at those same stars I was looking at before he came in. “I tore my rotator cuff during the playoffs sophomore year,” he finally says, shrugging his shoulders.

“Oh, Deck.” Baseball had been his dream growing up. His life. His future. He had lived for baseball. I wrap my arm around his body and lay my head on his chest. “I’m so sorry.”

“It is what it is. I’m over it. I’m not on the roster anymore, but they still let me travel with the team occasionally—when it doesn’t conflict with my classes.” He shrugs dismissively, but I know the gesture and the words are bullshit. The Decker I’d known would never be ‘over it.’ Baseball is his life. Or at least it had been his life. You can’t just erase that.

“No, you’re not over it…but it’s okay if you don’t want to talk about it. I understand.” And boy do I ever understand.

“I’ve moved on,” he continues. “I changed my degree program from business to exercise science, with a concentration in motor development. I’d like to go into physical therapy. Sports medicine.”

I smile, “That’s amazing, Deck. You’d be a great therapist.” And it would be a great way for him to stay connected to the sport he loves so much.

“Thanks,” he says, but it’s hollow. His inability to play ball has affected him more than he’ll admit, but I know better. I won’t push him though. I have no right considering there are things about my life I don’t ever plan to share with him.

“How long are you home for?” he asks, effectively changing the subject again.

“I’m not sure. The semester is almost over, but I’m hoping my professors may let me finish my classes remotely. I had only planned a temporary leave before…” I trail off, not wanting to say it out loud. Not wanting to say why my travel plans have changed. “Maybe I can find a local university that would be willing to proctor my exams. I don’t know. I just don’t want to leave Mom.”

“I think that, given the circumstances, and the fact that you’re probably still as good a student as you were in high school, they probably won’t turn you down.”

I nod against his chest, “You’re probably right.”

“Do you think you’ll stay through the summer?” He sounds so hopeful. I wish I could stay the entire summer. Hell, I wish I could manipulate time and make that summer after high school last forever so I could just be with Decker without all the complications that followed after I left town.

“I don’t know. I have a job and an apartment back in California. My job will hold my place for a little while, but not forever. And my roommate might get a little lonely if I don’t come back.” I feel him tense when I mention my roommate.

“I’m sure
she
will be fine.” He emphasizes the ‘she,’ and I realize that he’s probing. Is Decker Abrams jealous that I might have a male roommate?

I decide to cater to his unsaid question. “
Kate
, my roommate, probably will be fine.” I feel him relax. “But she’s my friend, too. We’re kind of all each other has out there.”

I feel him tense again. “You have people here, too, you know? You always have.”

I sigh, “I know.”
Not tonight, Deck. Please.

“Promise me you won’t run off without saying goodbye this time.”

I blink back the tears I’d thought had run dry. “I promise.”

He rolls onto his right side, facing me, and nudges me to roll over as well. Once I’m also on my right side, he pulls my back against his chest again and nuzzles his face between my neck and shoulder. I smile at the familiarity of it all. Decker and I have fallen asleep like this countless times in the past.

It’s too easy to fall into a routine with him. Way too easy. I have to watch myself and be extremely careful. I can’t put myself, or Decker, in a position where my leaving here will be as painful as it was three years ago.

Because the reality is, I will be leaving again.
 

Chapter Nine

Casey

The wake and funeral service for my father were the most difficult experiences of my life. Up until that point, I’d thought nothing would beat freshman year of college, but I’d been wrong. Of course, I never thought I’d have to bury my dad. Saying goodbye to my daddy forever was earth-shattering.

My mother and I had held each other on the front bench of the funeral home, then again later at the church. Mr. and Mrs. Abrams were on Mom’s left and Decker was on my right, holding us together and providing silent support.

Decker never left my side during the viewing or the funeral, not one time. And his presence had given me strength that I selfishly took. Everyone gathered for a small reception at the Abrams’ home after the services. My grandparents had all passed away when I was very young and my parents were only children, so those in attendance were distant aunts, uncles, cousins, and friends of my parents. The few friends I’d had in grade school were away at college, not that I’d kept in touch, so Decker was the only person there for me. He was my person.

I’m sitting on the Abrams’ front porch swing, trying to get some fresh air, when Decker joins me. He’d been by my side all day and night like a shadow, a very sweet shadow, I hadn’t even realize he’d stepped away. It just goes to show how much of a zone I’ve been in.

“Here,” he says, handing me a red cup filled with a dark liquid. I sniff it; it’s wine.

I giggle at the southern stereotype of wine in a red cup. My acquaintances in California would probably pass out from shock if they saw me drinking wine out of anything other than the appropriate glass.

“What’s funny?” he asks, sitting down beside me.

“Nothing. There are just some things I miss about home, you know?”

“Actually, no. I don’t know. I never really left home.” He doesn’t say it with an attitude, but it’s certainly implied and I grimace. He notices, “I’m sorry, Case.”

“No, you should be able to speak your mind, Decker,” I tell him.

“Not today of all days.” I’m not going to argue with that. But I’ve been home for three days already, so I know it’s only a matter of time before the dam bursts, and he holds nothing back.

The front door opens, and my mom steps outside. “There you are, dear.”

“Hey, Mom,” I say, standing up.

“I think I’m ready to head home. You sticking around longer?”

I shake my head ‘no,’ and sneak a quick glance at Decker. He’s looking down at his feet. “I’ll just see if Mrs. Abrams needs any help with anything before I head out.”

Decker stands up and puts his hand on my shoulder. “Don’t worry about it, Case. I’ll help Mom clean up.”

“That’s so sweet. Thank you, Decker,” my mom tells him. “Always such a sweet boy,” she pats him lovingly on the cheek before heading for the steps down to the front yard.

I turn to Decker, “I’d better go.”

He raises his hand to my face and brushes his fingers down my cheek. I lean into his chest and he wraps his arms around me, resting his chin on my head. He’s about six inches taller than my five-foot-six, the perfect height for this.

“Should I come by later?” he asks quietly. It’s almost as if he’s waiting for the night when I refuse him.

“Please,” I whisper, closing my eyes tight in an effort to block the need from my voice. Three days, and I’ve already come to rely on him as much as I did in high school.

He kisses the top of my head and then pulls back. “I’ll see you later.”

I nod in response and hurry down the steps to catch up with my mom, looping my arm through hers.

“You know, Decker can just use the front door.”

My heart skips a beat and I stop, jerking her to a stop as well.
What?

My mom looks over at me and laughs at the shocked expression on my face. “Casey, I may be old, but I’m not stupid. You think I don’t know he’s been sneaking in your bedroom window for years? Your father threatened to cut down that tree so many times.”

“Dad knew?”
Oh my God!
I am completely mortified. “Why didn’t y’all ever say anything? How come I was never grounded? Aren’t fathers supposed to chase boys away from their daughters with shotguns or something?”

“Casey…you were a straight A student and you never did anything wrong. Jeez, we wanted you to rebel, for crying out loud. To step outside the box and live a little. And you were with Decker. He was a good boy. He
is
a good boy, like a second child to us. Sure you two were sneaking around behind our backs, but you weren’t doing anything wrong.”

In an instant my shock at this revelation morphs into sadness.

“I’m sorry sweetie, I wasn’t thinking.” She unloops our arms and puts hers around my shoulder, pulling me in.

“It’s okay, Mom. It’s just hard is all. Being back…the memories…and dad.”

“I know, sweet girl. I wish I could say it’ll get easier, but I don’t know that it will.”

“Time heals all wounds…” I say, repeating what my therapist always tells me.

We approach our front door and Mom turns to me. “What do you say we pig out on some ice cream?”

I smile, “Frozen yogurt?”

“Right,” she winks. “Frozen yogurt.”

“I’d say you have yourself a deal.”

And that’s what we do. On the night of my father’s funeral, when we’re finally alone, my mom and I sit at the bar in the kitchen in our pajamas and scarf down bowl after bowl of frozen yogurt.

And despite my text that he can use the front door, Decker still climbs in my bedroom window.

***

I wake up the next morning to a smiling Decker. At least I think it’s morning. I look passed him and note that it’s still kind of dark outside. I wipe the sleep from my eyes and glance over at my alarm clock. The green numbers tell me it’s just before six.

“There better be a good reason for this,” I mutter grumpily.

His smile never falters, “There is. We’re going fishing!”

At his announcement, I sit straight up. My smile now matching his. “Well, why didn’t you say so?” I haven’t been fishing in so long. The last time I’d gone was with my dad and Decker, and I know this is Decker’s way of reminding me that I’ll keep Dad alive in my memories.

He laughs and raises himself from his squat on the floor beside my bed. “Get dressed, I’ve got everything loaded into the truck already. We just need to stop for bait.”

Letting out an excited squeal, I pop out of bed, run to my dresser, and hope there is something in there that’ll still fit. It’s been so long since I’ve been home, I can’t even remember what I left behind and I don’t think the yoga and lounge pants I’d packed from California will be appropriate.

“It’ll be a little chilly on the water, and the bugs might be bitin’ in a couple hours, so you’ll probably want to wear jeans,” Decker offers before he backs out of my room. I hear his footsteps on the stairs and then the silent chatter of him and my mother. I briefly wonder what she’s doing up this early, but shake it off and get back to my search.

After settling on a pair of straight-legged jeans I’d had in high school that are a little too big and a cream-colored Columbia fishing shirt, I grab my fishing hat off its hook in my closet and head downstairs. My dad had gotten me the hat when I was twelve. Once upon a time it was a light khaki, now it’s darker from years and years of use. There’s also a bunch of hand-picked feathery lures around the top. We never fly-fished, but I’d thought they were pretty so my dad hooked me up, literally. I smile at the memory of us in the bait and tackle shop picking out the prettiest lures as I twirl the hat around my fingers.

Arriving in the kitchen, I see my mom bagging up sandwiches while Decker is loading containers into a cooler.

“You were in on this?” I ask my mom, causing them both to look over at me in the doorway.

“Of course,” she winks. “Can’t have my baby going out on the water without sustenance.”

I roll my eyes, “Right. Can’t have that.” I move over to the cooler to see what’s on the menu for the day.

“Don’t worry, Case. We weren’t plotting behind your back. I just needed your mom’s help accessing the boat.”

I pause my movements. The boat. Of course we’re going out on my dad’s boat. Decker doesn’t have one, neither does his dad. They always went out on our boat. Why didn’t I consider that before now? I guess it was always just a given we’d go out on my dad’s boat…even when it was just me and Deck.

“Hey, now,” my mom says, stepping over to me and putting her arm around my shoulder. “Your dad would want you two out there on that boat. Nothing would make him happier than seeing it put to use.” And seeing me and Decker together again, that’s what her eyes are telling me. He never did fully understand why I didn’t make amends with Decker, even though he respected my decision.