Something More Than This (5 page)

CHAPTER SEVEN

Fourteen years ago . . .

The unfortunate thing about being a girl with two older brothers and living in a neighborhood with no other girls around your age is that you’re predestined to be a tomboy. If I wanted to go out and play, or do anything for that matter, I was a slave to whatever my brothers and their friends wanted to do. And I followed them around like a lost puppy dog, never quite knowing my place, always feeling somewhat out of the loop on everything, and certain that I was the butt of all their jokes.

So there I was on the top of the slide, feeling too old to get away with using it to begin with. My long legs were impatiently kicking out in front of me, looking for purchase on the slippery surface before gripping the sides, and with one final push, I let go. I slid down and came to a body-jarring stop before tumbling onto the ground, a move I had been perfecting over the course of the summer that saved me many a scratched or bruised knee. Instead of climbing back up the way I came, though, I stayed at the bottom of the slide, dragging my feet through the sand to make silly swirls and figure eights until my oldest brother, Simon, yelled out my name.

By now, my brothers had gathered a mostly familiar crew of boys from the playground, and they were all in a circle formation with a light buzz of energy floating in the air around them, as if they were going to perform some sort of religious ritual instead of throwing the pigskin around for an hour or two.

“Everyone,” Simon announced when I reached his side. “Katy’s my pick for running back.”

A low rumble of disapproval could be heard from all the other boys. This wasn’t the first time that I’d experienced this, so I was more than used to it. Instead of being intimidated, though, which was exactly how an eleven-year-old girl should feel when facing the firing squad of older boys, I stood there defiant. My hand was on my hip and the tiny chip on my shoulder was growing by the second as I looked at all of their faces, which didn’t hide at all how unhappy they were that a girl was going to be playing with them.

All except for one unfamiliar face.

He stood off to the side, partially obscured by another boy, but not enough that I didn’t detect the smirk on his mouth. And he was beautiful. The most beautiful boy I had ever seen in all my life, which at eleven years old wasn’t saying much. But to me, he was perfect.

He had chestnut brown hair that was in need of a trim because of the way the ends flipped up underneath the snug New York Mets baseball cap he was wearing. His eyes glistened in the sunlight: a warm hazel that made my heart melt. But it was that look, the one that said to me that he thought I wasn’t good enough to play with them, that did me in.

This was the first time I had ever seen him at the playground.

I made sure to pay attention when he introduced himself. “Conner,” he said, his voice like a melody playing just for me. And for the very first time, I was nervous of looking like a fool in front of all these boys. Well, not all of them, just him, really.

Before I knew it, a quarter was tossed, teams were lined up, and Simon was handing off the football into my eager hands as someone from the other team yelled out, “One Mississippi.”

By “two Mississippi” I was darting around the left side of the makeshift offensive line, my small feet running as if my life depended on it, down the sideline and clutching the ball to my chest like it was the Holy Grail. By “three Mississippi” I had made it halfway to the end zone and could see no opposition. By “four Mississippi” I heard the other team groaning and my team cheering me on to score a touchdown.

I didn’t get to hear “five Mississippi.”

That was because I had been tackled out of nowhere and was lying flat on my back.

At first, the shock of landing so hard caused tears to well up in my eyes. I squeezed them tightly shut and willed myself not to cry. Because even though I was obviously a girl, I didn’t want to be “like a girl” in front of all them. Once I had that under control, I noticed that it was eerily quiet. This playground that was usually bursting at the seams with activity had come to a complete halt. Then I registered a heavy weight across my legs, which was keeping me tethered to the ground. Its grip on me started to loosen, and that’s when I sat up and looked at what—or rather, who—had its hold on me.

Conner.

He was beaming with a smile as he let me go completely and stood up. It made his already beautiful face almost angelic to me. I couldn’t help myself; I goofily smiled back. And that’s when I knew I was in trouble.

A second later and ruining this very perfect moment, Jonathan arrived by my side, crouching down to make sure I was okay by checking and rechecking every one of my limbs until I shooed him away and reassured him that I was fine. Then Simon appeared. He stepped in front of Conner and shoved him hard until he fell to the ground, the smile now wiped clean from his face.

If it had been anybody else, I probably would have let my brother continue to berate him in front of everyone. To this day, I don’t know if it was because Conner played by the actual rules and tackled me rather than abiding by some unspoken rule that I was not to be touched. Or maybe it was all as simple as just the way he smiled at me afterward or the look on his face when I first noticed him. Whatever it was, I knew I didn’t want Simon to hurt him.

“Stop it!” I yelled. “Leave him alone!”

I stood up and brushed the dirt from my backside, then gathered up the courage to step in front of Simon.

“Get out of here, Katy,” he said. “I’ll handle it.”

He tried to sidestep me but I blocked him again.

“He was just playing the game,” I said. “He didn’t do anything wrong.”

“Are you serious? He could have really hurt you and you’re sticking up for him?” he asked incredulously.

I kept my chin up and stood my ground once more. This was going to be the one time that my brothers were not going to get their way, if I had anything to say about it.

“But I’m not hurt. The tackle was fair and square. And I’m fine. Honest.”

Simon looked over my shoulder to Conner and said to him, “You’re done. Go home.”

Before Simon turned around to walk back on the field, I said, “Then I’m not playing anymore either.”

“Katy, don’t be stupid.”

“You’re the one being stupid.”

There was a collective “ooh” from the crowd that had formed around us. They had never heard me talk back to either brother, and I found myself gaining more confidence with every uncomfortable second that passed. Simon gave Conner one last disgusted glance, then turned on his heel as the crowd parted to let him walk away.

“Suit yourself,” he muttered under his breath.

Not too long after that, the other boys followed him back onto the field.

No surprise there. Wherever Simon went, people just naturally followed.

“Are you sure you’re all right?” Jonathan asked, walking backward to join the rest of the boys.

I nodded and gave him a reassuring smile, which seemed to appease him since he left me and Conner alone.

Turning around, I immediately put my hand out to help him up.

“I didn’t need your help, you know,” he said and refused my outstretched hand.

“I know you didn’t.”

“Then why did you do that?”

He was standing up by now. The baseball hat had been pushed back farther on his head, revealing more of his handsome face. It was so difficult to get my mouth to actually move and form words. They were all bottled up in my throat as I stared at him up close, taking in every detail of his features and committing them to memory.

“Never mind,” he said and started to leave.

I couldn’t let him get away, so I ran up behind him until we both settled for walking side by side at the same pace. To his credit, he didn’t tell me to go away, nor did he walk any faster to lose me. Instead, he looked over at me and smiled shyly before quickly looking ahead again.

When we reached the entrance to the park, he said, “Listen, I’m sorry that I was mean to you before.” He jerked a thumb behind him toward where the other boys were playing again. “Thanks for sticking up for me back there.”

“That’s okay,” I said.

“You know, you’re pretty fast . . . for a girl.”

I beamed with a smile from ear to ear from his praise. “Thanks.”

The unforgiving summer sun was beating down on us as we awkwardly stood in silence. I dared to sneak a peek at him once more when he removed the baseball cap and ran a hand through his hair.

Conner pressed the button on the crosswalk, and then he pulled the cap back on tightly. “So, I was just going to go across the street and get a Gatorade or something.”

My stomach lurched in disappointment. That was my cue to get lost. Even at a young age, I knew when a boy wasn’t interested in me. “Oh, okay, I’ll just walk back by myself.”

He grinned and said, “You’re not gonna come with me?”

I didn’t answer because I wasn’t used to anyone wanting me around. I mean, my brothers obviously cared a great deal for me, but I was sure it got to be more of chore for them to be my babysitters.

“Come on, Shadow,” he said.

“Shadow?”

“Yeah,” he said and bumped my shoulder with his. “You’re following me like you’re my shadow.”

I gnawed at my bottom lip as the butterflies in my stomach swirled and swirled. Turning around, I glanced back to where my brothers were still playing football and made my decision.

“Okay, I’ll come with you,” I said, then hesitated before stepping off the curb.

Conner smiled and asked, “What’s wrong? You look like somebody stole your favorite toy or something.”

Shifting from foot to foot, I said, “Nothing’s wrong. It’s just that I don’t really know you. Like really know you, and my brothers might get mad at me for leaving, and—”

“My name is Conner Roberts. I’m thirteen years old. I just moved here from Pennsylvania a few weeks ago since my parents just got divorced, and this is where my mom’s from originally. I have an older sister, Maggie, who is in high school. I like Batman . . . a lot. I don’t have many friends yet and probably won’t have many now thanks to your brothers.”

He looked up to the vibrant blue sky as he thought about what he was going to say next.

“Oh,” he said with a spark in his eyes when he looked my way again. “I met my shadow today, and I’m hoping that she’ll be my friend and go with me to the store across the street.”

I couldn’t hide the smile that crept up on my face when he finished talking. I could only nod in agreement and follow him to the ends of the earth if he asked me. Instead, I settled on trailing behind him to the store, where he bought us each a Gatorade. Afterward, Conner walked me back to the park just in case my brothers were looking for me.

They were. And they weren’t happy.

But Jonathan, always the mediator, stepped in and tried to defuse the tension by asking for a drink of my orange Gatorade. It worked. Simon walked away before attempting to embarrass me again.

“Don’t worry about it, Katy,” Jonathan said and handed me back the bottle. “Just don’t wander off without telling at least one of us where you’re going, okay?”

“They’re just looking out for you,” Conner said as we watched him walk away. “My sister can be a little overprotective too.”

He smiled and asked, “So, same time tomorrow?”

“Sure.”

I didn’t think Conner would want to deal with Simon, so my hopes weren’t very high that I’d ever see him again.

To my surprise, the next day came, and there he was waiting for me at the park.

And the day after that.

We were like two peas in a pod after that first day, and he became so much more to me than just a friend or confidant . . . he was everything.

CHAPTER EIGHT

S
o that’s how I ended up giving Katy the nickname Shadow.”

Mimi smiles after Conner’s detailed retelling of the first day we met, bringing the memory to the forefront of my mind in vivid Technicolor.

“I like that nickname for you, Katy,” she says. “It kind of suits you perfectly, you know?”

“I liked it . . . I mean, I like it too. It’s been so long since I’ve heard it, though; it’s kind of strange hearing it now.”

“How long has it been exactly?” Conner asks.

I pretend to take a little longer to calculate the years, months, weeks, and days in my head, as if I have no clue the actual amount of time that has gone by since we last saw and spoke to each other. Not like I’ve been pining away for him or anything. However, in front of him, the last thing I want to come off as is someone who’s been doing exactly that for nine years and a month or two, give or take a few days. But who’s counting . . . apparently me.

“A little over nine years, I think,” I say, then quickly add, “I’m not sure exactly. Something like that.”

“Wow, has it really been that long? It can’t be,” he says, then takes a sip of his beer. “I’m trying to remember the last time we saw each other.”

Mimi’s face goes slack. She’s trying her hardest to keep a straight face and not break under the pressure. Thank God, for once she’s not blabbing like the loose cannon that I know she can be.

“Oh, barmaid,” a male patron calls from the other end of the bar. “Can we get a little service?”

Mimi curses under her breath and tells us she will be right back.

It’s not that I’m embarrassed by the letter anymore . . . well, maybe a little bit. It’s just that I don’t want to rehash that part of my past with anyone, much less
with
Conner. And if I know Mimi well enough, she will have colorful commentary about the letter and how I still have it, and then who knows where we’ll end up in that conversation.

I turn casually on my bar stool to face Conner, trying very hard not to be thrown off by the very handsome man he’s become in the years that have stretched between us. His hazel eyes especially . . . they were always my favorite thing about him when we were young. It always felt like he could read my mind before the words would come tumbling out of my mouth. As he gazes upon me now, it’s different.

Tugging some hair behind my ears and with a nervous smile, I say, “So.”

“So? I can’t believe it’s really you.”

“It’s really me.”

He searches my face for a few seconds, and the weight of his stare makes me want to look away, but I keep my attention trained on him. I watch as his expression shifts from simple curiosity to a beaming smile, as if he had found the missing piece to a puzzle.

“You grew up, Katy,” he says finally. “You look . . . different.”

“Like I said, it’s been about nine years, so yeah, you could say that.” My tone comes off as defensive.

He laughs. “I don’t mean it in a bad way at all. I mean you look like—”

“Like what?”

“A woman,” he says simply. “It’s kind of gross.”

My mouth drops open in shock until Conner laughs at my reaction. Then I start to laugh right alongside him. I playfully smack his upper arm. “Very funny.”

“Well, it’s true. I remember you being all gangly arms and legs and always fighting with your brothers.” He takes another sip of his beer and then runs a hand through his hair. “Wait, that’s not entirely true either. Just Simon . . . Jonathan was always pretty cool with me.”

I roll my eyes at the mention of my brothers. “Simon hasn’t changed much. He’s a cop now, by the way.”

“Really? That sounds like it would be perfect for him.”

“Actually,” I say, stopping to give a quick look around the bar and then the front door. “I’m surprised he’s not even here yet. He’s usually following me home or checking up on me at some point during the day
and
night.”

“Wow! So he’s still the same overprotective and overbearing big brother, huh?”

“Are we talking about Simon?” Mimi asks, propping her elbows on the bar. I nod and then she says, “He’s still the same asshole you remember him to be, I bet.”

“He was harmless,” Conner says. “He was just looking after his baby sister.”

I can’t help the twinge of annoyance I feel at hearing him refer to me as the baby sister. It shouldn’t, seeing as I’m older and know better. But the truth of it is that not only does Simon remind me of this fact regularly, but being around Conner again makes me feel that way too. Not in the sibling kind of way, but in that he’s always going to see me as the gangly girl he grew up with.

“Yeah, but I’m not a baby anymore, Conner.” Damn, there I go slipping into that defensive tone again.

But Conner doesn’t detect it. Or if he does, he doesn’t pay it any mind when he quietly says, “No, you’re definitely not.”

“Did you find out what he’s been doing? Where he’s been?” Mimi asks out of nowhere.

Conner smiles as I let Mimi know that I was working my way toward that but got sidetracked. “You might as well tell us at the same time, since she”—I point my finger at her—“won’t quit until I tell her everything.”

“Let’s see,” he says. “You already know I went away to college.”

“Where did you go?” Mimi asks.

I already know the answer: UCLA, located on the other side of the country.

When I was sixteen, Los Angeles might as well have been Russia when my best friend and crush moved there. Back then, I was so hurt that I never bothered to get an e-mail or physical address from him to stay in touch. On the other hand, he obviously knew where I lived and not once sent a letter or called to see how I was doing. Then, within a year of Conner moving across the country, my parents were gone, and the life I knew was over . . . so he kind of became an afterthought. And as more and more time went by, he was just someone I used to know. Of course, I wondered what happened to him and where he was every so often. But that was always quickly followed by wondering why he never reached out to me . . . at least until now.

“I ended up staying there after completing my undergrad and going to medical school. I’m in my last year of residency, then I’ll have another few years of a fellowship for sports medicine to complete before it’s all said and done.” Conner pauses and then thoughtfully looks at me. “It’s actually because of Shadow here that I became as interested as I am in sports medicine.”

“Me? How did that happen?”

Mimi groans. “Please warn me if we’re about to launch into another hour-long discussion on sports. If we are, then tell me right now, because I have side work I could be doing to get out of here on time tonight.”

Conner chuckles and shakes his head. “I take it you don’t like sports, huh?”

“Pfft! Having to listen to Katy talk about football nonstop is more than meeting my daily quota on sports, thank you very much.”

“Okay, we get the picture, Mimi,” I say, half laughing, half annoyed because she interrupted him as he was about to tell us how I, of all people, inspired his life’s calling. I pivot in my seat to give Conner my full attention again. “So, you were saying?”

“Oh right . . . sorry.” He puts down his beer bottle and then turns in his stool to face me. “You don’t remember, do you?”

“Remember what?” I ask at the same time Mimi does.

His mouth tips up in a teasing smile, and his hazel eyes twinkle with amusement while my mind starts racing, trying to remember exactly what he’s talking about.

Conner leans forward and says, “Come here, I’ll give you a hint.”

Nervous at being this close to him, but very curious, I meet him halfway in the space between our bar stools. Obviously not satisfied with how close I am to him, he leans a little farther. In that handful of seconds, I close my eyes and inhale. I actually freeze the moment in my head and smell him like he’s a fresh bouquet of roses or something. And in that instant of cataloging his scent, it brings to mind the brightness of the sun after a rain shower and how it makes everything more beautiful in the light of day.

A quick snap of Mimi’s fingers brings me out of my break with sanity. I open my eyes; she rolls hers and then points like a crazy person at the back of Conner’s head, which is poised by my ear. As if sharing a secret between old lovers, he speaks quietly, so only I can hear him.

“Knight in shining armor.”

“Excuse me?”

As he leans back and smiles at me, he says a little louder now so Mimi can hear him, “That’s your hint.”

Conner watches as I search my memories. Many of them are of us as kids goofing around and playing in our neighborhood park, where we initially met. Later memories are of me not knowing what to say and feeling awkward around him; the whole time, Conner was oblivious to how I was developing a whopper of a crush on him.

“I’m disappointed, Shadow,” he says finally. “I consider that moment to be one of my top five to this day.”

The realization hits me then, and I smile shyly as the memory replays in my head. “I remember.”

“For chrissakes, will one of you just say it already?” Mimi asks, exasperated.

“Shall I?” he asks me.

I shake my head and glance at Mimi, who looks as if she’s about to lose her mind if one of us doesn’t start telling the story.

“Hey, Bartender? Do you think you could spare us some of your time over here?”

This comes from the same guy as before at the other end of the bar, but this time his voice is infinitely more annoyed.

“You have got to be kidding me,” Mimi grumbles under her breath. “The nerve of people . . . interrupting me to do my job. I’ll be back, kids. Do not start without me.”

As she hustles to the take the drink order, Conner starts to laugh. “She’s pretty funny, Shadow. Where did you guys meet?”

“In high school during my sophomore year. We’ve been best friends ever since.”

He half smiles, and if I’m not mistaken, I notice a bit of a grimace. Which really kind of bugs me. Because he had his chance to remain friends but didn’t do anything about it.

“After my parents died, I was a bit of a mess. We all were . . . Simon and Jonathan included. I met Mimi almost right afterward. She has been nothing but loyal and honest and a true friend.” I stop and realize that this conversation all of a sudden took a turn down a more serious route than I intended. So I try to make things light again. “Well, except for that time recently where she told my old best friend who I haven’t seen in years that I would meet him tonight.”

“You didn’t want to meet me tonight?” he asks, his eyebrows pulling together in concern.

Placing my hand on his forearm gently, I say, “No, it’s not like that at all, Conner. Of course I wanted to see you. Are you kidding? It’s awesome seeing you again. But she kind of ambushed me and I was completely caught by surprise. It’s a great surprise, I promise.”

His smile unfurls slowly, like he’s just now seeing me . . .
really
seeing me for the very first time in years. “It’s really great to see you too, Shadow. And I’m so sorry I wasn’t there for you when your parents died. I wanted to be, I really did, but—”

“Okay, I’m back. Get to talking,” Mimi announces and puts a stop to Conner’s explanation. “I had to buy that guy and his buddies a shot each to shut them up for a while.”

“Well, I think I was twelve and—”

“You were thirteen and I was fifteen,” Conner says adamantly.

“Okay, so I was thirteen and trying out for the soccer team at my junior high school.” I then look to Conner, who is resting his chin in his hand while leaning against the bar. His eyes never leave my face as I start to get lost in the memory. “It was the third day of tryouts and there were maybe three or four of us that were vying for the forward position.”

“She was really good,” he says, looking at me.

“I’m sure,” Mimi says, then shushes him so I can go on telling the story.

“Anyway, there was this one girl, Christina Cox, who was one year older than me who always played a little dirty.”

“The little bitch,” Mimi says under her breath.

“Since she was older too, she thought the position should automatically go to her. So when the coaches kept putting me in during scrimmage instead of her, she got really irritated. Finally, though, she got in the game.”

“You should have seen this girl,” Conner says to Mimi. “She was taller and broader than I was. She looked like she played for the Soviet Union men’s hockey team and she was mean as hell.”

Conner and I start to laugh until Mimi gets me to start the story again. “So there I was, making my way with the ball, passing to this one and that one, and right before I line up to make my shot, Christina comes out of nowhere and takes my legs out from under me.”

“I told you she was a little bitch,” Mimi says.

“It’s not illegal to do that, but then she slammed her cleated foot down on my ankle when I was on the ground.”

“I was watching from the sidelines,” Conner says. “It was brutal. I have never in all my life wanted to hit a person of the opposite sex . . . except this one time. It took everything I had to just stand there and watch.”

“Oh my God! What did the coaches say?” Mimi asks.

“They yelled at her and kicked her out of the tryouts, but it made no difference to me because I was in so much pain. Then . . .”

Conner sits up proudly and pretends to dust off his shoulders. “Then her knight in shining armor came to the rescue.”

“The next thing I know, I’m being picked up off the ground by Conner,” I say, stopping briefly to relish the memory. He whispered in my ear that he was going to pick me up and that I should put my arms around his neck. “He carried me off the field to the sidelines, and when I thought he was going to stop and put me down, he just kept right on carrying me home.”

“It was like two miles, at least,” he says.

“Shut up. It was more like two blocks,” I say with a laugh. “Nobody was home, so Conner had to play doctor until my parents got there and took me to the emergency room.”

“Oooh, playing doctor,” Mimi says with a coy smile. “Smooth, Conner. Very smooth.”

A sudden flush of embarrassment hits me, but Conner shakes it off with a laugh. Then he looks over to me and winks. “Her mom’s the one who called me Katy’s knight in shining armor and said I had a great bedside manner.” He shrugs. “All I had done was get her some ice and make her keep her leg up on a pillow. I knew that it was probably a severe sprain, and the way she looked made me stay until her parents got there.”