Rounding Third (16 page)

“Did the Lynches invent some kind of love potion that only works on our girls?” my dad asks my mom.

But she never responds.

I disregard my dad’s comment. “She’s really happy. They’ve been talking over the years.”

Ariel smiles over to me, happy that I’m coming to her defense.

“Years?” My dad’s eyes examine my mother.

She vehemently shakes her head. “I had no idea.”

Ariel catches the fact that my dad thinks he’s the only one who’s been in the dark. “No one knew. Not even El.” She stands up and walks over to my dad.

He is hunched over the counter, the cold beer bottle resting in his palm, his head hanging.

Ariel places her hand on his shoulder, leaning closer. “I love him, Daddy.”

I watch my dad’s back rise and fall with heavy breaths. He’s never been one to have outbursts. He’s more likely to give the silent treatment.

“What do you want me to do, Ariel? Accept this? Accept the fact that your sister will have to be reminded her entire life?”

She glances back to me, and my mom’s head is in her hands, slow hiccups of breath struggling out.

Ariel’s eyes tear up, and this is all because of me. My parents’ distress, Ariel’s sadness. I’m to blame.

The picture flashes in my head. The secret relationship she’s had to keep. Well, not anymore. Ariel and Spencer can’t have anything else taken away from them because of their siblings.

“Dad, they’re great together,” I interject and he whips around.

“So are Crosby and Ella. Just like they used to be.” Ariel says.

His fist slams to the counter. “Enough.”

All three of us startle.

“The Lynch boys won’t come within one hundred feet of this house. I can’t control what you do up in Ridgemont, but I think I raised you better than to go behind our back. Your mother and I will never accept one of them into your life.” He takes his empty beer bottle, tossing it into the trash. “Now let’s have dinner.”

“No way. I love him and I’m not going to sit here like Ella did two years ago and throw him away. I’m an adult and you can’t control me.” She rushes out of the room, and her footsteps pound up the stairs.

“Will you be leaving us too?” my dad asks.

“No.”

“I just don’t understand why you want to torment yourselves?” He continues to talk to the toaster.

“I have a deal to make with you." the words blurt out before I truly think of repercussions.

"Deal? What sort of deal?" my mom questions and my dad turns around.

I’m sure my dad is way too angry to respond.

“I’ll stay away from Crosby as long as you leave Ariel alone about dating Spencer.”

God, the words “stay away from Crosby” transport me back to after the accident when everyone in this town thought it would be better if we separated and grieved on our own.

“No deal. You both stay away from those Lynch boys.” My dad moves to the fridge, popping the cap off yet another beer bottle.

“I’ll let her see him without you knowing, if that’s what you choose. We’ll hide their relationship, like some kind of unplanned teenage pregnancy. Or you can have one of your daughters away from one of the Lynch boys.” My heart flattens, like a bulldozer rolling it into a pancake.

My parents look at one another, and I keep my back straight to show I mean business.

“Accept Spencer.”

They both release heavy breaths, having a silent conversation with one another, weighing the pros and cons.

“You won’t have anything to do with Crosby then?” My father is the first to turn around, showing he’s contemplating my offer.

“Well, I have to be around him when I’m with the team. I can’t give up the internship. You have my promise though. I won’t date him.”

“Deal.”

“Mark,” my mom sighs.

“Katie, I’d rather one than both. Spencer was always a good kid.” He moves to his seat.

So is Crosby.

My mom gives me a long look and stares down to her plate.

“You have to be nice when she brings him home,” I add.

“Uh-huh,” my dad says, picking up his fork.

The conversation is over.

With a snap of my fingers, a miracle has been made, and the deal is done.

And my heart is obliterated.

I
hate this town
, and the fact that I decided to show my face again confirms how eager I am to move on with my life.

My fist taps on the wooden door, and a piece of flaking white paint falls to the rotten front porch. Slow and steady footsteps pad toward the door, and my heart races, like I sprinted for third after the second baseman made an error.

Taking deep breaths to make sure oxygen continues to fill my lungs, I wait.

Mrs. Ford glances out the dirty window, and the doorknob turns.

This is the moment I’ve feared most in the past two years. There’s no turning back now. The door opens, and there she stands. Her brown hair is speckled with gray, and her eyes are puffy from what I imagine has been years of crying.

“Mrs. Ford?”

She stares at me, and unless she’s lost her mind, she has to recognize me. I might have gained more muscles over the years, but I look the same.

“Crosby?” she asks. Wetness pools in her eyes.

An enormous second-guess occupies me, and I think this was a horrible idea. Panic says that I should tell her she’s wrong and hightail it out of here.

“Yes, ma’am.” My conscience presents itself.

She’s thinner than I remember, and there’s no joy in her face because I took any happiness away from her.

“Come in.” She steps to the side, opening her house to me, showing how remarkable of a woman she is.

She’s the one who taught Noah to be the best friend anyone could have. Man, he proved his worth a hundred times over.

“Would you like some lemonade or iced tea?” she asks, already moving toward the kitchen.

“I don’t want to cause you any trouble,” I answer, my head down, looking at the worn carpet instead of the pictures that adorn the walls.

“Take a seat, sweetie.” She nods toward the kitchen table.

I sit down, and when I place my arms on the table, it wobbles.

I’m surprised that a town that shamed my family into leaving hasn’t helped this woman in her time of need.

I wad up a piece of napkin and shove it under the leg while she busies herself with pouring two glasses of lemonade. She comes to the table, placing the two glasses down, and then grabs a pouch of cookies. She was always good at making everyone feel at ease in her home.

“What brings you to Beltline, Crosby?” she asks. When the table doesn’t wobble, she glances underneath. “Thank you.” She smiles politely.

“I wanted to check up on you. I should have come sooner, but my family moved—”

“To Colorado. I remember,” she finishes my sentence for me. She reaches over and pats my shaking hands. “It’s okay, Crosby. It’s just me.”

Tears sting my eyes.

“It looks like you need some things done to the house.”

She shakes her head.

“I heard Ridgemont got you. Congratulations. You need to concentrate on that.”

My eyes fly up from studying the pulp swirling around in my lemonade. “How did you know?”

“Your mother writes me quite often. She mentioned it in the last letter, stating she thought you’d make a trip down here at some point. Wanted to prepare me, I suppose.”

She nudges the container of oatmeal scotchie cookies my way. “I know they’re your favorite. Please.”

“I’d like to help you.” I stay on course because, if this conversation turns too sentimental, I’ll be sure to bolt like I always do.

“I’m okay, Crosby.”

How could she be?

“I’m sorry,” I say, and one tear drips to the stripped wooden top.

“Oh, sweetie. I never blamed you.” She pats my hand again, squeezing it to hers. “He’d have wanted you to move on.”

I nod, wishing I could have been more of a man and kept my emotions out of this. How pathetic am I? The mother who had to bury her son is consoling
me
.

I sit up straight in my chair and wipe the tears away.

“I’d like to fix up your house.”

“No, no. I’m good.”

“Please, Mrs. Ford. Noah wouldn’t want you living like this and I don’t either.”

She nods, relenting. “Only when you aren’t supposed to be at practice.”

“Deal. I can run to the store now?”

I move to stand, but she places her hand on mine. Still, I remember that warmth from when she’d have to put a Band-Aid on me after I’d hurt myself. Or the time I got sick at night during a sleepover, and she nursed me until my mom picked me up. She was my second mother.

“Let’s talk, and you can start next week.” She smiles.

I relax back down in the chair. It must be lonely here, on the outskirts of town, the closest neighbors being the Keatons, two miles away.

“Okay.” I bring the glass up to my lips and take a sip.

“Do you like your coach?”

“I do. Coach Lipton is tough but fair.”

“That’s good. You’re making sure you keep that elbow down, right? Because you always were one to look like a chicken out there.”

The fact that she can critique me two years later is humorous. When we were younger, she would get on Noah about his quick reflexes. I forgot how much she loved watching us play baseball.

“Yeah, I am. Brax is up there.”

She nods. “I knew that. His daddy is always bragging about him. The three of you were great ballplayers. Noah would be proud of you.”

My nose tickles, and my throat dries.

“He would always say, you and Brax had the true talent and drive to go long-term.”

“So did he,” I choke out.

She gives me a small smile.

I sit in the kitchen for another half hour, talking about baseball, laughing at memories of Noah with her. The tears threatening to leak eventually subsided. My shoulders started to relax in the chair. For the first time, I didn’t shy away from talking about Noah.

She checks her watch when the conversation slows. “Okay.” She pats the table with both hands and stands up. “I’ll see you next weekend. I’ll grab all the supplies from Creighton’s Hardware this week, and you can start painting the house.”

She takes my lemonade from my hands and dumps it into the sink.

After she shuffles me to the porch, she smiles. “It was wonderful seeing you again, Crosby. Until next week.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Ford.” I nod at her standing in the doorway.

Climbing into my truck, I glance up and down the street, praying no one spots me.

I back out, and a dark sedan pulls into her driveway. Not wanting to see anyone from my past, I press on the gas.

* * *

I
walk into my house
, screaming ringing from upstairs.

What the fuck now?

I climb the stairs two at a time. Ella’s standing in front of my door, and Jen’s at Saucey’s door while they’re yelling at one another.

Saucey smirks over at me with a look like a catfight is about to occur and to sit back and watch.

“I’m not living here,” Ella says.

“What did you want me to do? You were gone, and we need a place to live,” Jen argues back.

Ella’s nostrils flare. “Find another place. Why would I want to live here? Do you ever think about anyone else but yourself?” Those small hands find her hips, and she leans forward in case Jen can’t hear her.

“I tried, okay? But everyone beat me to the other places. It’s temporary. We’ll be here for maybe a few days,” Jen says.

Ella’s eyes narrow to slits. “It’s two weeks, Jen. They said we would be out for
two
weeks.”

Jen’s head wiggles around, like a dangling worm. “Two weeks is nothing. It will fly by.”

“Yeah, for you. You’re going to fuck Saucey until your vagina is raw. And I’ll be stuck on a couch.”

“We moved your stuff into Crosby’s room.” Jen smiles, as though that should appease Ella.

Truthfully, I’m appeased. I’m surprised Saucey would go for that with the bet and all. It’s like a sealed win for me.

Ella throws her arms in the air. “Great. Thanks, Jen.” She sounds condescending.

Jen rolls her eyes. “Where’s the appreciation? Sorry, Princess Cinderella not everyone is perfect,” she says.

Ella’s patience hits its boiling point where she loses control of her mouth, no matter how hard she tries to resist.

“
Ergh
.” Her hands fist into balls in the air. “You are impossible.” Her whole body tenses, and she catches me in the doorway. “
Ergh
!” She walks into my room and slams the door.

“You can thank me later,” Jen says. Then, she and Saucey step into his room.

I knock softly on my door, but Ella doesn’t answer.

Realizing it’s my room, I turn the knob and peek my head in. “Can I come in?”

“It’s your room.” She’s staring out the window.

Her books, suitcases of clothes, and her laptop are sitting in the corner.

“What happened?”

I slide onto my desk, placing my feet on the chair, waiting for her to answer me.

“The people above us flooded our apartment. The landlord wants us out for two weeks to fix the plumbing,” she says to the curtains. “Jen thought it would be a good idea to move in here. For obvious reasons. You know that her vagina and Saucey’s dick can’t seem to be apart from one another.”

I chuckle, and she turns around, her hands behind her back that is pressed to the wall.

“Crosby, we can’t.” She shakes her head, figuring there’s no way this situation will work.

“You take my bed. I’ll take the couch.”

“I can’t let you.”

“You can.” I nod, but her shoulders slump.

“Thank you,” she says.

And those two words are enough for me.

“No problem.”

“I don’t understand. She only cares about herself. You’d think she’d have used her Dean’s List brain.” She puts her finger to her cheek. “
Oh, that would leave Ella with Crosby and all their drama. That’s probably not a good idea
.” Her hand falls. “No. All she cares about is,
Ella and Crosby should fuck, so it’s okay. We’ll force them together
.”

I chuckle again, watching her in her classic fully animated self. This is the Ella I fell in love with.

“Well, if you want to fuck me, you know I’m open to the idea.”

She shakes her head, but the smile emerging speaks volumes. Remembrance of my hands up her shirt the other night surfaces, and I shift slightly to taper down my arousal.

“It won’t be out of the way to take you home after our date,” I say.

Her eyes cast down to her clothes. Her stiff back says there’s more to her trip than she’s telling me, but I’m not going to pry—mostly because I don’t want what’s in that town to affect us here. All there is for me in Beltline are a bunch of torches waiting to ignite me.

From the bathroom door, Brax runs into the room with only a Speedo on, and Ella gasps.

“What’s up, kiddos? We’re going down to the quarry.” He nods his head toward the door.

I look at Ella.

“Have fun,” she says, continuing to refold all her clothes.

“Oh, Cinderella, come on. As the prince of Ridgemont, I demand your presence. Plus, your ugly stepsisters were kicked out of the house this morning,” Brax says.

I laugh where Ella doesn’t.

“I’ll stick around here.”

Brax stretches his arms up in the air. “Boring. Come on. You can even invite that mermaid sister of yours, Ariel.”

“Go cover yourself up,” I say.

Instead, he does a circular grind with his hips, and Ella puts her finger in her throat, pretending to throw up.

“Come on,” he whines. “Like old times. Oliver has grabbed every last raft in this town, and two have your names on them.” He uses two fingers to point at us.

I nod for him to leave the room with the hopes that I can convince her more on my own.

He takes the hint.

“Five minutes, downstairs, in Crosby’s truck.”

My hands fly up from the fact that he volunteered me to drive.

Once he’s out of the room, I change seats to the edge of the bed, closing in on her.

“You need the stress relief,” I say.

She shakes her head. “Don’t bait me.”

“How about, you’re too chicken to jump off a cliff?”

“Yep, I am. You’re not going to win this one.”

“What if I kidnap you for the day?”

“I’d like to see you try.” She continues to fold each piece of clothing Jen obviously threw carelessly into her suitcase.

She’s too busy to see me come behind her and scoop her up into my arms. Her fists sting my skin, but I swing her over my shoulder, digging in her suitcase for a swimsuit. Thankfully, Jen is flighty and thought she’d actually need one because I get lucky when I search a pouch and pull out a nice purple bikini.

“This is wrong!” she screams.

“You need to have a little bit of fun,” I say to her. I dodge her kicking feet to make sure they don’t hit my goods.

“I have fun.”

I let her slide down the length of my body, my hands gliding over her legs and hips until her feet land on the ground.

“No, you don’t.” I shake my head. “Please.” I go with the puppy-dog act.

Her body relaxes. “Fine. For one hour.” She holds up her finger in front of my face. “Now, get out, so I can change.”

“Okay. One hour,” I lie. Once I get her out of this house, we won’t be coming back for a while. “I’m calling Spence.”