Game On (31 page)

I nod. “A no-hitter.”

Her eyes widen. “Dude, not just that—a no-hitter
and
a home run. That's, like, a blessing from the baseball gods.”

Emma latches onto my leg. “
Home run
!” she screams. “You got a home run! I saw it!”

“And a no-hitter,” I tell her. “Don't forget that part.”

Brett slaps my back, and Jay and Braxton are chanting some crap about “Bulldogs for life” while our parents file in for their hugs, because of course. But the entire time, I've got a soft, warm hand in mine, and I'm not letting that go, thanks. Sorry, family.

They all head to the lot, leaving me and Bri trailing behind. When I said I wasn't letting go, I mean I'm
really
not letting go. Not until she gets in her car and threatens to chop my arm
off
with the door. But I'm technically not allowed to leave, so we've got plenty of time for threats. By the time we reach the lot, everyone else is already clear across, nearing their vehicles.

I hear the cleats clicking against the pavement before I hear, “This is damn cute. I should've brought flowers.”

Yeah, even he can't bring me down right now. But just like that, Bri's brightness is gone—she moves in a step closer, her smile falling into a deep-set frown as we slow to a stop.

“You all right?” I ask.

She swallows audibly. “There's a reason I've done my best to stay away from him over the past couple months, you know.”

“Yeah. Because breakups suck.” Matt's footsteps move closer as I study her face. “Bri?”

Matt stops in front of us, grin in place. He clasps his hands in front of him. “Good game, Perry. Gotta give credit where it's due.”

“Can we go?” Bri says, tugging on my hand.

We should go.
I
should go. Because me plus Matt Harris plus parking lots don't equal the best track record. So, taking a deep breath, I back away. It's slow and I can't break my gaze from Matt and I nearly trip over my own damn feet, but I let her lead me away, further toward the lot.

Matt tilts his head to the side, following us. “You know, I really do wish I liked you, Perry.”

“Funny. I don't really give a shit whether or not you like me. I
am
tired of seeing you near my girlfriend.” Bri stops short. I glance down, meeting her questioning gaze with one of my own. “Wait. Girlfriend?”

That smile of hers reappears for a split second. “Yeah,” she says with a slight nod. “I'm okay with that.”

“
See, this is what I just don't get, Bri.” Matt steps toward us. “I don't understand why the hell you'd be hiding behind this guy. I mean, I knew you weren't the brightest crayon in the box, but—”

I hold up my hand for him to shut the hell up when Bri spits, “Why? Why do you give a shit? Because it makes it harder to boss me around? Or because you can't just grab me like a ragdoll when I piss you off anymore?”

Matt's face twists. “Screw you,” he says. “I barely touched you. If I'd wanted to hurt you, you would've known it.”

What the actual fuck.

My heart stutters to a stop as I look down at her. She's not paying me any attention—her glare's locked on the guy in front of us. There's no way he—no. He's a jackass, and he's a loudmouth, but he wouldn't actually put his hands on a girl.

Right?

“Tell me you're joking,” I manage to say. For the love of all that's holy,
please
tell me this is some twisted joke.

“It happened over Christmas vacation.” Her voice trembles, but her stare doesn't falter for a second. “At his parents' lake house. He got pissed over God-knows-what. I tried to walk away, to cool down. He grabbed my wrist. Snatched me back.” She takes a deep breath. “And no, you didn't leave a bruise, or even a mark. But that's not a thing you can do to people, Matt.”

The noise of the bystanders around us grows, but it's nothing more than a dull roar. I look back to Matt, the guy I've known since freakin' kindergarten. To the guy I've played ball with since we were punk kids on the t-ball team. To the guy that I've always kind of hated, but now, I'd be more than willing to take his head off.

My
pulse pounds through every damn inch of my body. Blood floods my head, thumping like a drum in my ears as I start forward. Bri's clammy hand tightens around mine and she tugs, urging me away. And somehow, by some grace of angels above, her “Don't” breaks through my haze.

Shaking my head, I break Matt's glare long enough to let her lead me away again. I can't do this again. I can't. Not while we're here, in front of the whole town, in front of our families. I can't do it in front of her. So I turn. Fix my eyes on my truck. Grip her hand as tightly as I can.

Matt clears his throat. “It was one time,” he calls after us. “And you forgot to tell him that you deserved it.”

Hell. No.

I stop. “Go,” I tell Bri.

“Eric—”

As much as it kills me, I let go of her hand. “Go,” I repeat, and spin on my heel, facing Matt. “Say again, to my fucking face, that a girl half your size deserved your dirty-ass hands on her.”

He closes the distance between us. “I don't know who the fuck you think you are,” he says. He stops in front of me, so close I could break much more than that nose. And it's tempting—so damn tempting. “You are, and you always have been, a waste of space. You're nothing.”

I shrug a shoulder. “The girl who dumped your sorry ass thinks I'm a whole lot of somethin'.”

I feel his fist before I see it coming. My jaw stings like a bastard, but I duck and ram into his stomach, taking him to the pavement. One second I'm re-breaking that precious nose, the
next
I'm on my back with 200 pounds of center fielder on top of me. And there goes
my
nose. Grabbing his arms, I force him over, getting in another punch before someone yanks me off.

Blood trickles over my lips as I shake off whoever grabbed me. Officer Concord helps Matt to his feet, half his face already swollen. No tellin' what mine looks like. Don't really care.

Coach Taylor moves in front of me, his eyes telling me everything I need to know:

Don't say a damn word
.

~

Coach Taylor sits on the other side of his desk, his head in his hands. The only noise comes from the A/C, which is pumping into overdrive. Bri's in the chair beside me, our fingers intertwined in the middle. Officer Concord took Matt to the hospital himself, thanks to his complaining about a headache and hollerin' about some concussion shit. All I can do is thank my lucky stars that Bri ran to get Coach. He saw it all. So no matter whatever Matt says, he can't pin this on me. No one can. Not this time.

Coach blows out a breath. Leans forward onto his desk. Finally looks at me. “Damn it, Eric,” he says. “I don't know what the hell to say. Between you and your brother, y'all are gonna take down our tournament. Do I need to be on the lookout for Grace next year? Is she planning some Perry Trifecta?”

“Coach—”

He jabs his finger onto his desk. “I want you to tell me, right here and right now, why I shouldn't have let the cops haul you off. Because despite what I saw with my own eyes, y'all's audience is gunnin' for
your
head. You just took down this town's center fielder and class president for the second—”

“He grabbed Bri. Grabbed-her, grabbed-her.”

Coach's
mouth snaps closed. His eyes widen. He straightens and looks from me to Bri, and back to me. “Eric Perry, I swear to all that's holy that if you're lying to me—”

I lean forward, resting my elbows on my knees. “Look at my face, Coach. Do I look like I'm lying?” When he says nothing, I add, “You and I both know that I'm not a liar. I know what you told me back in January. I know this could screw me over. Don't you think if I was gonna screw up my future, I'd make it count this time?”

He stares at me for the longest minute of my life before turning to Bri. “I want you to tell me what happened, and I want you to think really, really hard, and make sure you get this right.”

And she tells him. She tells him about that night, at the lake house. About all the shit he's spewed to her over the past few months. About what he did in the parking lot today. About how I started to walk away—she swears I did—but he didn't just step over the line; he jumped.

His gaze remains on Bri, intent as he says, “Why didn't you tell me this earlier?”

“I didn't think it mattered,” she replies quietly. “Since it happened before, you know, everything else.”

Coach leans back, rubbing his face. “Oh, it matters. It matters a lot.”

“He's gonna get away with it, though,” I say. “Isn't he?”

Coach looks back to me, his eyes tired, but determined. “You two trust me?”

More than just about anyone. “Yes, sir,” I say along with Bri.

He nods. “Then you let me take care of this.”

~

The ride home is silent, aside from the wind whipping through Brett's Jeep. He follows closely behind Bri, making sure she gets home okay while our parents and sisters practically ride
our
bumper. One good thing about my brother is that he knows when I need to talk, and when I need everyone and everything to just shut up for a few minutes.

Bri pulls into her driveway, and the Jeep crunches over the gravel in ours. She slides out of her car, hanging on to the door as she watches me. But Dad appears at my door, blocking my view. He tilts his head toward the house. “We need to talk.”

I knew that was coming.

“Come on over to our place, Bri,” Momma says. “It won't take them long.”

Bri follows everyone as they file into the house, glancing at me over her shoulder before leaving me and Dad alone on the porch. The front door closes, and I sink into one of the wicker chairs as he does the same. Minutes pass before he finally says, “People are gonna talk even more, you know.”

I nod slowly, keeping my gaze fixed on the field across the road. I'm used to people talking. The difference is that now, I don't really care. Not anymore. But there's something hidden beneath his words, something he's not saying: I'm not the only one people are going to be talking about. The whole family's going to get dragged into it.

“Sorry I'm kind of an asshole,” I tell him.

“Then don't be an asshole.”

I glance over in time to catch him grinning. Chuckling, I shake my head and sprawl my legs in front of me. “How do you do it?” I ask. “Put up with these crazy people who love to talk crap about us?”

He sighs. “Everyone's fair game in a town like Lewis Creek. What matters is how you handle the spotlight when it shifts to you.”

If
I'm being completely honest, there are parts of this town that aren't awful. It's where I was born and raised. It's my home. But over the past year, everything's gone to shit. Even when I'm winning games, even when people are throwing out free food and handshakes and cheers, they don't trust me. Even though my brother was a powerhouse player, they spend more time talking about his love life instead of his batting average. And even though my sister's got a voice that could put any singer in her place, all they see are her dresses and her skin.

So no, parts of this town aren't awful, but some parts are downright evil. Brett once told me that this place is hard to shake, and now, more than ever, I believe him. But I can't wait to give it one hell of a try.

“I'm not going to Campbell, Dad.” He meets my gaze. I guess now is as good of a time as any to break the news. “I'm sorry. I know you were hoping and praying, but it's not for me.”

He nods. “You do know it's up to you, right? I'd only be upset if you didn't make the decision for yourself.” He pauses. “So if it's between Clemson and Winthrop, I'm going to guess…” He trails off, eyeing me. “Winthrop?”

I can't hold back my smile. “Yeah. I'm thinking Phys Ed major, and they've got a minor for coaching. So I can coach one day. Be around ball while helping some kid not turn out like me.”

I'm only half-joking. And judging from the sudden soberness of his face, Dad can tell. His eyebrows pull together as he stares at me, almost like he's trying to figure something out. He leans onto the arm of his chair. Looks me dead in the eye. “If you hear anything I say today, anything at all, make it this: any parent on God's green earth should be damn proud of his kid turning out like you.”

Chapter
Twenty-Eight

Bri

The Perrys' house is the exact opposite of mine, and today, I'm more grateful than ever. It's homey. It's comfortable.

It's full.

Mrs. Perry scurries around the kitchen, filling glasses of tea for all of us while Eric and his dad talk outside. In her words, “sweet tea solves everything.” Ice plinks into glass after glass behind me as I sit at the kitchen table. The TV in the living room flips on, the sound filling the house as Grace and Emma settle onto the couch.

My knee bounces beneath the table as I chew on my thumbnail. I don't even know what to think right now. I
think
I'm supposed to be grateful for what Eric did. And I guess I am, but more than anything, I'm scared. I'm scared that Eric just screwed everything up because of me. I trust Coach Taylor, but exactly how much can he make disappear? Especially when half the town got a front-row seat.

Something cold taps my arm. Mrs. Perry hands me a glass of tea, which I grip tightly so she doesn't notice the tremble in my hand. “Thanks for having me,” I say.

She gives me a tight smile. “I figured you wouldn't want to be alone after a day like today.”

She figured right.

I set my glass on the table, condensation already pooling at the bottom. Brett strides into the kitchen, flashing me a smile before grabbing two glasses of tea from the counter. After giving
his
mom a quick kiss on the cheek, he heads back into the living room while Mrs. Perry sits beside me.