Authors: Sophie Lira
I don’t know how to handle things when we get inside my apartment. This is different than hanging out. While most situations lead to a stellar make-out session and maybe a copped feel, I need to tell her what’s going on with me. Not because I want pity, but because I want her to know.
“Want something to drink?” I open the door to my refrigerator, pulling out a beer.
“Just some water, please. I had a lot of wine.” Olivia kicks off her heels and sits on a stool along my counter.
Why does this feel weird? Why does it feel like I’m on the cusp of the first real relationship I’ve ever had and it’s about to explode in my face?
I nod over to the living room and she gets up, taking her glass of water, and sits on the giant couch in front of the TV. I sink back into the cushion next to her and she burrows her tiny feet under my leg, her chilled toes biting the skin through my jeans.
“Do you know anything about me?” The words spit from my mouth before I can think of a better way to bring it up.
She smiles, scooting in closer until she’s hugging her knees. Her bright green eyes come to life and are even more intense through all of her sexy black eye makeup. “Of course. I know you’re more charming than any guy should be. I know you’re kind and have a huge heart, and you’re patient.”
“You know I went to North Carolina, right?” I place my beer on the table and shift, pulling her feet over my lap and covering her legs with the blanket behind me. I know telling her isn’t that big of a deal, but it’s important for her to know the truth. Especially since she’s different than any other girl I’ve dated.
Also because the whole thing with Natasha is the only thing I can keep from her right now.
“Yeah, what about it?” She pushes herself off the couch and snuggles into my chest.
“I played baseball there and I was really good. On scholarship, All-American, the whole nine. I was being scouted by eight MLB teams, and then the accident … ” I trail off, rubbing the scar on my leg. I can’t even bring myself to look at her because I know she’s probably piecing things together.
“Kyle, I know.” She shakes her head with a small laugh. “I’ve known for a while.”
“Really?” She never even hinted at it, which shocks me more than anything.
“When I first met you, I thought you looked familiar, but I just brushed it off. But, after that second practice we had, I kind of Googled you because I couldn’t figure out why you weren’t playing anymore when you’re so good.” She laughs, taking another sip of water. “I promise I wasn’t being a stalker.”
“Why didn’t you say something?” At least I have friends outside of Cam who respected what I asked them: not to spread it around. I don’t need some sports reporter asking about a comeback or if I’m on some weird scholarship here. Or if I ever beat the shit out of Aaron Miller.
I would gladly say I did.
“Because I didn’t want to. It’s not why I like you. I also didn’t think you wanted to talk about it.” Olivia kisses my cheek and wraps her arms around my neck, squeezing me tight.
“I never really do. It’s hard, you know? No matter if I get artificial ligaments or spend every waking hour in physical therapy, I’m not going to play like I used to. Nothing is going to make my leg strong enough.” I think she feels the way I do. It shouldn’t have happened to anyone. No one should be jealous or pissed off or seek vengeance. She never told me she was sorry like everyone else did.
She shifts again, resting her head on my shoulder. “The look you had when you played, it was pure joy. When I saw the video, my heart shattered, Kyle. But I can see the smile coming back when you’re out there with all of us. Maybe one day it’ll be enough.”
Her never-ending compassion slays me every day. The words creep up my throat before I can stop them. “You know, the whole Spider-Man thing really started when we were playing against Vandy and the catcher, Aaron Miller, hit what would have been a two-run homer. I ran up the chain link fence, leaped, and caught the ball. I don’t know how I didn’t land face first in the turf or get impaled by the spikes.”
Olivia sucks in a breath. “Kyle, I didn’t want to bring you back to that day. You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to. I know what happened.”
“No, you really have no idea.” I can’t bring myself to look at her yet, so I keep staring at our hands. “The next year, when we played Vandy again in the preseason, I blasted the hell out of this ball and it bounced off the fence on the line. I don’t even think the ump knew what to rule the hit at first, but I kept running.
“The outfielder thought it was a foul. By the time he got wind that he messed up, I was running faster than I ever had before. He threw it, and by the time I rounded third I knew I should have stopped, but they waved me home. That was the only time I didn’t trust my instincts.”
Olivia sighs. “It wasn’t your fault. Please, don’t think that way.”
“Miller had this vendetta against me. Shoulder plowed me like a linebacker’s. My left leg got caught in his as I slid into home, and we both went flying. He went one way with my leg and I went another. I felt every ligament and bone snap.” I swallow. The pain haunts me every fucking day. Before I start hyperventilating, I take a second to level. She needs to hear this. I need to tell someone.
“Why would he do such a thing? I can’t fathom anyone being so heartless. To you, of all people, no less.” She wipes a few tears from her eyes as she stares at me.
“I have no idea. Jealousy, probably.” I startle as she wipes a tear off my face I didn’t even realize was there. “I whipped around and landed on home plate. Since he didn’t have the ball when he hit me, I was ruled safe … an in-park, grand slam. Do you know how often that happens?”
“Never.” She sighs, running her fingers through my hair. I always do this for her when I can tell she’s overwhelmed, but I never thought it would help me the same way.
“I had a raging infection from being in all the dirt and had to stay in the hospital for almost a month. Then, after finding out I’d probably never go professional, I was practically suicidal. I shut off and drank myself into a coma eight days a week, stopped talking to everyone.” I still can’t look at her. I feel like a part of her is judging me because I’ve been trying so hard to make her see there is good in the world.
“Kyle, please. You are so much stronger than you think. You don’t need to justify your past to me. We all have done things we’re not proud of. Everyone has vulnerability.” Our pasts are riddled with tragedy in completely different ways. I’ve never believed in fate before. Right now, I can’t think of anything else.
A huge weight lifts off my shoulders. Playing out there with her is more than enough, and my life is so much better because of her. But I think it’s way too soon to tell her that. “Are you mad I waited so long to tell you?”
“Not at all. It doesn’t define you. The person I like is the person you are.” She smiles.
I rest my chin on the crown of her head as she gets comfortable and wrap my arms around her, holding her as close as I can. “You know I was scared shitless when I made that bet with you before the first practice?”
“Why?” She glances up at me.
“Because I thought I was going to suck and I really wanted to take you out.” I laugh at the memory. “I do still owe you dinner and a few rounds of beer, now that I think about it.”
“You don’t owe me anything.” The words have a bit of edge to them, and when I glance at her, the corner of her jaw is pressing through her cheek. Her legs swing off my lap and she stands, never looking at me.
“What’s going on?” I take her hand and guide her back to me, her face growing redder by the second.
This has to do with him. It has to, and I’ll be fucking damned if I’ll let our relationship be dictated by anything this son of a bitch did. It makes me fucking furious that my simple comment about owing her a dinner caused that reaction. I want her to tell me what he did so I can stop thinking at any moment she’s going to leave.
She smiles, but her eyes are dull and her face turns an almost clear white. “I
really
like you.”
“But?” I hold my sigh as she sits next to me.
“Braden was horrible to me. He always said I owed him when he’d do things for me and I don’t want us to be like that. You’ve bought me dinner more times than I can remember, and you’ve been so patient with me. You don’t owe me anything.” She still doesn’t look at me. I can only imagine what she’s thinking about and it makes me sick.
I wait for her to say something else, but she doesn’t. The seconds turn to minutes, and I never think I’ll get used to how she fits against me, how we can sit without talking and still have it be meaningful. Her head nuzzles into the crook of my neck and I wrap myself around her, closing my eyes and taking advantage of the moment she’s in my arms.
Her lips are less than a millimeter from my neck and brush across my skin every time she takes a breath. I think we’re blowing past friendship. It might be too fast. We still have things on our plate that haven’t been shared, but I’m okay with that.
I’ve never been in a situation like this. All of my exes were superficial and petty. We never talked, never connected. There’s something that I’m drawn to on a level deeper than friendship. I think it’s everything about her and my need to help her through this shitstorm in her life.
***
The deep-green bleachers are still damp from this morning’s rain, but the scent of freshly cut grass and musty dirt still lingers in the air. The storm also cut the humidity and heat, making it comfortable enough to sit outside without getting swamp ass. I’m not sure I’m allowed to be here, but a baseball field is one of the few places that will always be home to me. Whether it’s a stadium, a high school diamond, or the crappy sandlot where we used to play softball, the turf is my sanctuary.
It doesn’t pain me as much as I thought it would to sit here and watch Tulane’s baseball practice. They’re not as good as UNC, but they’re not horrible. I’d kill to be back out there. I miss getting up for early practices and sitting in centerfield at six in the morning. I miss the structure of my life.
Olivia’s at work and I have nothing else to do. My doctor’s appointment this morning went as shitty as I expected. I’ve been skipping most of my classes—okay, pretty much all of them—and I still haven’t decided if I should stay at Tulane or drop out. It isn’t about the money. The school doesn’t feel right for me. I’m not sure New Orleans feels right. The only thing I’m sure about is Olivia.
The crack of another bomb to left has me following the projection, and I figure out where it’s going to land a few seconds before the guy gets there. My phone rings, pulling me out of my analysis of the outfielder’s efficiency. I sigh and answer as another hit bombs to center. “Hey, Pops. What’s up?”
“Are you at a game?” The shock in his voice is electric.
“Nah, just watching practice.” The ball bounces twice before it reaches the pitcher. I could have made it home in one throw.
“Wow, how do you feel about that?” A door slams in the background, and I know this is going to be one of those conversations.
“I’m not sure.” More baseballs crash off a few bats. The aggression release I had from batting could cure every problem in the world, but the bullshit swarming around me now would take a cannon.
“Why did you go?”
If things keep going in the direction they’re going, he’s going to meet Olivia eventually. He’s been in New Orleans a few times a month for as long as I can remember because his firm has an office downtown.
“I met someone.” The words blurt out, more liberating than anything.
“Oh yeah? That was quick.” He laughs. “I’m guessing it’s Natasha’s friend, Olivia, right?”
I cough. “Yeah, but, Natasha isn’t Cam’s friend, Dad. It’s … complicated.” He’d find out sooner or later about who really knew who. It was too much to explain Olivia in the moment, so I lied.
“Kyle, I’m not dumb. You know I’ll help when I can. So, how did you meet Olivia? What’s she look like? Does she go to school there?” My dad always likes to up the awkwardness with relationship talk.
“No, she doesn’t go to school. I don’t know. It happened. She lost her wallet at this takeout place, I paid for her dinner, and before I knew it, I was taking yoga.” Thank God my brain is private because it keeps looping her gorgeous smile and stellar ass on repeat.
“I bet you love that.” He laughs again, louder and laced with mockery. I stand and shuffle down the bleachers toward the exit.
“I need advice. Like, no bullshit.”
“Everything okay?”
I don’t know why I start pouring out everything about Olivia. I don’t know what else to do, what route to take with her. Obviously we have something pretty deep and I can’t let my suspicions go. After about ten minutes of back and forth, my head hurts. I need to see Olivia before I go to PT. I want this out of my head before then.
“Kyle, I don’t want to tell you the wrong thing.” He coughs, but I know it means
be careful
. “However, if you’re certain she’s in
real
trouble, call me. You’ll know I’ll do what I can.”
But what if it’s too late?
Chapter Thirteen
New Orleans’s Hottest Club is …
Olivia
Aubrey pulls open the screen door and runs into the lobby of the yoga studio. She plunks two cups of coffee on the counter and smiles so wide it almost touches her ears. “Well? You never called me after the date! That’s, like, rule number one!”
“Well, what?” I shrug, feigning innocence. It takes all my willpower and half of Helena’s good juju to keep the shit-eating grin off my face.
I am in mega, ultra, stupendous like with Kyle.
I don’t care how quickly the tables turned. Aubrey was right about everything. The way he makes me feel is unlike anything I’ve ever experienced. Every bad thought about Braden, his friends, and what I went through is the past. The people I’m with now are my new foundation.