Play Safe (Make the Play #1) (8 page)

I’m not a morning person. I’m a night owl. I walk around like a zombie for most of the day, only to get a second wind around nine o’clock at night. In fact, I threatened to quit playing baseball the first time we had a game at eight am. My mom, on the other hand, is up every morning at the buttcrack, so she’s never understood my aversion to mornings.

After last night, I wanted nothing more than to stay in bed all day. Truth is, I’m scared of seeing Josh at baseball practice this afternoon. Not because I think the wuss can hurt me. No, it’s because I’m scared I won’t be able to keep my emotions in check around him. All night I dreamt of beating him to a bloody pulp, and I’m a little worried I might try to turn that into a reality once we get out on that field.

The scent of freshly brewed coffee fills my senses as I head down the hallway. I’ve already showered and dressed, and a chill runs through me as I enter the kitchen. As if on cue, the heater kicks on. Mom sits at the kitchen table sipping coffee and picking at an English muffin. She’s dressed in a long skirt and floral top, her hair is in a loose bun, and her face is bright.

“Good morning,” she trills.

“Yeah,” I mumble, reaching for the coffee pot. I’d pour it straight into my mouth if Mom would let me. But I’d tried that before, and it didn’t go over well. So instead, I grab a mug and fill it to the brim. The coffee is so hot it burns my tongue, but I don’t care. If I’m going to have to face Emmy with Josh today, I’m going to need a lot of this stuff.

“Why don’t I hook you up to a coffee IV?” Mom teases.

“Is that a thing?” I banter back. “Because if so, sign me up.”

“You wish.” After one last bite of her muffin, Mom stands, wiping her palms on a napkin. She drops her plate into the sink, and turns to me. “Okay, I’m off to the shop. Have a good day at school and practice.”

“Hey,” I stop her before she can walk away. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah.” She knits her eyebrows together. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

“I know that it must have been hard having dinner with Josh last night.”

“He was fine,” she says evenly. That’s Mom. She doesn’t get rattled easy. “Besides, I get it. I know why he doesn’t like me. He’s protective of his family. I can respect that.”

“But why? It doesn’t make sense. What happened was before he was even born. You’re not hurting his family now.”

“I’m sure his mother has poisoned him against me since he was a little boy,” Mom says.

“But why?”

She shakes her head. “Let’s just say that Heather and I were very good friends once upon a time. After everything blew up, she harbored a lot of resentment toward me.”

“I still don’t get it.”

Stepping toward me, she pats my cheek. “Josh is hotheaded, Christian.” She shrugs. “And I know someone else who is just like that.”

I stiffen, hating that she’s comparing me to him. We are nothing alike. “What happened was so long ago. Don’t you ever get tired of people acting like it was yesterday? I mean, shit, whatever happened to forgive and forget?”

“Language,” Mom warns. She’s the only parent I know who doesn’t allow her teenage son to say a cuss word every now and then.

But I know better, so I mutter, “Sorry.”

Satisfied with my apology, Mom says, “This town doesn’t forgive and forget very easily. People around here have gotten good at holding grudges.”

I shake my head. “It’s stupid.”

“Yes, it is.” She smiles. “But I can’t change it. I can’t control what others think about me. I can only control what I think about me, and I’m content with who I am. I know I’ve made mistakes in life. Including one really huge mistake. But I’ve learned from it, and I’m a better person now.”

“If only everyone else could see that.”

“It’s okay if they don’t. Their opinions don’t matter to me.” Leaning over, she gives me a swift hug. “The only opinions that matter to me are mine, yours, and that of my closest friends.”

Mom has always seen the world through rose-colored glasses. Sometimes I wish we could trade. Just once I’d like to see through her lenses. But I don’t see what she does. To me the world is a much darker place.

“Now I really have to get going.” She glances down at my coffee cup. “Go easy on that stuff. I don’t need you having a heart attack at seventeen.”

“Eighteen,” I correct her.

“Not until next month.” She waggles her fingers at me. “You’re already growing up fast enough. Don’t rush it.”

I grin at her as she snatches up her purse and hurries toward the front door. After she leaves, I suck down the remaining coffee in my mug and then yank my lunch out of the fridge. When I spin around, I spot Cal pulling up in front of my house. Since Mom and I share a car, Cal drives me to school most days. But it doesn’t bother me. It makes sense for Cal and me to carpool. We’re always together anyway.

I race into my room to grab my backpack off the floor. Then I walk down the hallway and out the front door. It’s not until after I lock it that I notice her. She’s sitting in the passenger seat next to Cal. I inhale sharply. It’s not like Emmy never rides with us. Before she got her license she rode with us all the time. Even since she got her own car she sometimes chooses to tag along with her brother. Then again, she’s always been like that.

When we were kids it used to drive me nuts. How she would follow us around like she was Cal’s shadow. She seemed to be everywhere. We could never shake her. And she was annoying, always whining or needing help. I could never understand why Cal put up with her. In fact, he not only put up with her, but he encouraged her to hang out with us. It didn’t make sense.

Until the day I witnessed something that made it all clear.

It was a hot summer afternoon. Cal and I had spent all morning riding bikes around the neighborhood. It was the one day we had to ourselves because Emmy had popped the back tire of her bike earlier that morning. She had to wait for her dad to come home that evening before it could get fixed. Cal attempted to talk me into doing something different so Emmy could take part, but I insisted on riding bikes. Cal gave in, mostly because I had gotten a brand new bike a few days before. And he knew how much I loved riding it.

I had to take a break to go to the bathroom, but Cal stayed outside. When I headed in the house, I heard Emmy and her mom talking. They couldn’t see me because they were in Maise’s office, and I had come in through the garage door in the kitchen. But their voices were loud, so I could hear every word.

“Please, Mom, I’m bored,” Emmy whined, and I cringed. I heard that whiny voice in my nightmares. Holding my breath, I prayed she wouldn’t figure out I was inside the house. The last thing I wanted was for her to beg me to play with her. I’d finally gotten a break.

“Well, then, find something to do,” Maise instructed her.

“There’s nothing to do,” Emmy responded in that same whiny tone. “Cal is riding his bike so there’s no one to play with.”

“You’re a big girl. You can figure it out.”

“Can’t you take a break from your writing and play a game with me or something?”

I thought about all the games my mom and I played at home. We had a whole closet full of board games. But it was card games that Mom liked best. And I remembered her telling me that she and Maise used to play cards all the time when they were younger. I was sure Maise would take her up on the offer and then I’d be home free.

“Why can’t you use your imagination? Why do you always have to have someone to entertain you? When I was a little girl I didn’t need anyone to play with me. I made up worlds in my head. I could keep myself company. Why can’t you be like that?” There was disappointment in Maise’s voice, and it turned my stomach. My mom never talked to me like that. She always told me how special I was. How I was unique and amazing. “I swear, sometimes I wonder if you’re really my child. You’re nothing like me at all.”

“No, I’m not!” Emmy shot back. “And I hope I never am!”

“Don’t you dare talk to me like that, young lady.” I’d never heard Maise so angry. I cowered in the kitchen.

“When I’m a mom I’ll spend time with my daughter!” Emmy kept going. She had balls, I’d give her that.

“Not if she’s anything like you, you won’t, trust me.”

I winced at her words. A frustrated sob tore down the hallway, reaching my ears. Loud footsteps told me that Emmy was running back to her room.

“Emmy,” Maise called after her. “I didn’t mean it.”

A door slammed, and I flinched. Pressing my back to the wall, I waited for Maise to go after Emmy. But instead, the door to Maise’s office clicked closed. Then I heard the sound of typing on a keyboard. Was she really not going to make up with Emmy? Was she not going to take away the hurtful words? I couldn’t imagine my mom doing that. Rarely did she say something out of anger toward me, but when she did, she apologized immediately. Taking a deep breath, I pushed off the wall and trekked down the hallway.

I was dangerously close to peeing my pants now and I barely made it to the bathroom before I started going. Luckily it all got in the toilet. When I headed back into the hallway, Emmy’s sobs slipped under her doorframe. I wanted to ignore them. I wanted to get back outside to riding my bike, to hanging out with Cal. What I wanted more than anything was to go back to enjoying my Emmy-free day, but I couldn’t do that.

The little boy who always wished for a relationship with his own dad couldn’t get the sound of Emmy’s cries out of his head. I knew what it felt like to be rejected by a parent. And, let me tell you, nothing sucked worse. Now I understood why Cal never pushed Emmy away, and why Emmy clung to him like he was her lifeline. Apparently he was.

Taking a few tentative steps forward, I rapped twice on Emmy’s door. When she didn’t immediately answer, I rapped two more times, and then a third and fourth quickly. It was Cal’s secret knock. The door swung open. Emmy stood before me, tears streaking her face, her pigtails loose and messy. She didn’t say a word. Just sniffed, and wiped a hand under her nose.

“Wanna come outside with me? I’ll let you try out my new bike.”

“Really?” Her eyes widened. Already some of the sadness was leaving her eyes, the usual brightness returning.

I nodded.

She bit her lip, hesitating a moment. “But what if I break the tire like I did on mine?”

“You didn’t break it. You popped it,” I corrected.

When her eyes darkened, I regretted my words.

“But it doesn’t matter. Even if you break it, I won’t be mad. It’s just a thing. It’s not like it’s a person.”

A broad smile broke out on her face. “Okay. Thanks.”

The truth was that I didn’t want her to break my bike. It was the nicest thing I’d ever owned. And luckily she didn’t screw it up at all. But even if she had, I’d like to think I wouldn’t have regretted my decision. I may have only been a child, but there was wisdom in my words. The bike was only a thing. Emmy’s a person, and she’s more important than any material object ever will be.

“Hey,” Emmy says now, stepping out of the car when I approach.

I’m taken aback by the greeting. I wasn’t expecting her to get out of the car to say hi, “Hey,” I speak warily. “Where’s your car?”

“In the shop,” she explains.

“Tell him why.” Cal raises an eyebrow in her direction.

She wears a challenging look. “It needed maintenance.”

“Yeah. After being driven into a pole,” Cal interjects.

“A pole?” My insides tighten. “Are you okay?”

She holds her arms out. “As you can see, I’m fine.”

She’s fine all right. Her tight jeans and sweater hug her in all the right places, showing off every supple curve. Clearing my throat, I force my head away from her sexy figure. Not that it helps much. When I look up, my gaze locks in on her long silky hair, shimmering eyes, and plump kissable lips.

“The pole didn’t fare as well though,” Cal jokes.

“It’s no big deal,” she says in an exasperated voice. “I just grazed it with my fender when I was trying to park at the mall.”

“Yeah. At the mall,” Cal says. “And then after she crashed into the pole she still went in to shop.”

“It was the last day of the sale, and I really wanted this top.” She glances down, and my gaze follows.
I gotta say it was not a bad choice.

“We really gotta work on those priorities,” Cal says. As I continue staring at her top, I firmly disagree with him.

“When did this happen?” I’d never seen the top before. Trust me, I would have noticed it.

“Yesterday afternoon,” she answers.

“You didn’t say anything at dinner last night,” I point out.

“Would you? Probably didn’t want everyone to find out what a terrible driver she is.” Cal’s lips twitch at the corners.

“I’m so getting a ride with Ashley tomorrow,” Emmy says with a groan.

“Just don’t drive by the mall.” Cal guffaws.

Emmy shakes her head. Then she reaches down to grab her backpack off the floor. “Anyway, Christian, you can have the front.”

“No, that’s okay.”

“C’mon, we both know the back is too cramped for you.” She smiles. “I insist.”