Starless Nights (Hale Brothers Series Book 2) (7 page)

Boxing would probably also do the trick but then I would be hitting with my fist, and just the thought of that makes my stomach roll.

“Come on, superstar! Is that all you’ve got?” Nate yells at me from across the net. He loves to try and taunt me, get me all riled up, but little does he know, this morning—my emotions are maxed out.

My eyes connect with him, I’ve completely lost focus of what he said, and the only word that sticks is
star.
My mind switches to Leila and I grit my teeth. I should have known that it doesn’t matter how big the city is, I can’t escape her.

Leila is everywhere. She’s in my past, my dreams, my daily thoughts, and all over the world around me. When I see candy, bikes, strawberry blond hair, park benches, a beach towel, glittery things, holiday decorations, just about anything, it someway somehow has a memory attached to her. And the very worst one . . . the stars.

We spent hours studying the stars, the constellations, different seasonal patterns, and the Greek mythology tied to each one. Night time was our secret time, and for six years, I spent almost every night lying outside with her telling stories and sharing dreams.

The nights without her have been the hardest. At least now, by living in the city, the glow from the building’s lights drown out and blur the darkened sky, removing any possibility of seeing them, and for that I am thankful. Regardless I still find myself looking up, and with the stars gone, it is a reminder that she is too.

Nate and I continue to play through the sets. I should be focusing on the game but I’m just going through the motions and running through memories of her. This is what happens when I see her, smell her, touch her . . . the memories come flooding in and I’m trapped remembering a different life. A life that I wanted and now don’t have.

When we were kids, after school she would come and watch me practice. Once I started competing, she would sit in the top row behind whatever bench I was placed at and cheer me on. When she moved, I found myself still looking for her in the stands, even though I knew she wouldn’t be there. And once she returned, every match I played, I always looked for her just hoping one day she might show.

“Hale, get over here!” Coach’s voice echoes across the courts and snaps me out of my mind. Playing on autopilot, I have no idea how much time has passed.

Walking to the benches, I pick up my towel to wipe my face. Coach is standing near the entrance to the locker rooms and his hands are on his hips. His lips are tightened into a thin line and panic rips through me.

It doesn’t matter that we are the same size and I am technically an adult, will I ever be able to shake the fear that a middle-aged man causes me?

I’m nervous. He sees it and frowns. “Yeah Coach?”

“What the hell has gotten into you today?” He waves his hand toward the courts.

“Sir, what do you mean?”

“Kid, you are on fire. Keep this up and you could go all the way.”

Even though Dad has been in jail and gone for over a year, I still expect the worst. After ten years of emotional abuse, being told how awful and worthless I am, his compliment catches me off guard. “Thank you, sir.”

“Same time tomorrow, kid. I’ll be expecting a repeat performance.” Coach pats me on the shoulder and wanders down the tunnel to head to the offices.

Nate skips up next to me and eyes me with uncertainty. My brows furrow down. Why is he looking at me like that?

Nate and I met my first day here on the courts. I had called the coach to let him know that I had arrived early and he had me paired with him in the sports complex at seven the next morning.

The match was grueling and just what I needed. Instantly we became friends.

Nate was born and raised in the Bronx. He knows all there is about the city, and has spent the last couple of weeks playing tour guide to Matt and I.

“So, what’s her name?” he smirks at me.

“What do you mean?” I break eye contact to walk back and grab my things.

“I’ve been slapping the ball around with you for three weeks and not once have you played like you did today. So, I ask again, what’s her name?”

Running my hand through my hair, I contemplate how much I should tell him. He doesn’t know her and sometimes I think that it might be nice to talk about her with someone who is completely uninvolved with our circle of friends.

“Leila,” I let out with a sigh.

“Ah, what did she do this time?” He smiles at me knowingly, only he
really
has no idea.

“What you should be asking is what hasn’t she done?” My tone lets him know that I am completely displeased.

He chuckles. “I didn’t think that you had a girlfriend.”

“I don’t.” Walking away from him, I’m hoping that he’ll end the questioning.

He continues to look at me though; I can feel his eyes boring into the back of me. “Huh.”

“It’s nothing. Just some girl from my past.” If only that was true, more like past, present, and every second in between.

“Doesn’t seem like the past after the way you played today.”

“Well, she’s in the past and I met her new boyfriend today.”

The thought of Leila with a boyfriend makes my stomach ache. My father’s voice comes crashing through my mind.

No one will ever want you. Even that little girlfriend of yours left you, she didn’t want you either. When are you going to learn and how many times do I have to tell you, you are nothing special and no one will ever love you.

For the most part, I’ve convinced myself that he was wrong, but seeing them together this morning instantly made me remember how I felt when I was fourteen and she moved away. I believed him then. After all, if my father couldn’t even love me, why would she?

Nate grabs onto my arm, pulling me from that depressing thought, to get me to stop walking. “Hold up, she lives here in the city?”

“Yep, goes to Parson’s.”

“Huh.”

“You’ve said that twice now.”

“All you’ve ever talked about is your brother and his girl. Not once have you mentioned a
Leila
. I’m just wondering how we get this girl to come around more often, especially after today.”

“We’re not friends.” I was wrong. It would not be nice to talk about her to someone. The way he said her name, in a curious, yet mocking tone, it makes my stomach continue to ache. He doesn’t understand the history between us and never will. Having her around would make me nervous.

“Really?”

“Really.” My tone lets him know that I am done with this conversation.

His eyes narrow one more time and then he shrugs.

“Well alright then. Let’s get cleaned up, pick up Matt, and go grab lunch.”

“Lunch sounds good. Matt will be excited to see you.”

He grins at me.

“What’s the plan for tonight?”

“Don’t laugh, but Matt’s kind of got this thing for running. He found a 5k dash that runs through Central Park at night. I told him I’d run with him. Kid’s pretty fast. You should join us if you think you can keep up.”

Nate laughs. “Just because you can kick my ass on the courts, doesn’t mean you’ll beat me in a foot race. Challenge on!”

“It’s not me that you need to worry about.” I slap him on the back.

“Oh, this is going to be good. You’re little bro is awesome. I’m going to be sad to see him go.”

“Yeah, he is awesome, and me too.”

“Oh hey! Did you know that female kangaroos have three vaginas?”

The comment is so unexpected I throw my head back and bust out laughing. “What are you talking about?”

“Well, I hear you spouting off all these random things all the time, so I thought I would share one that I know.” Nate smiles at me.

“That’s interesting and gross at the same time. Why am I not surprised that the fact you know revolves around the female anatomy?”

“What can I say, on the subject matter, I’m pretty much an expert.”

“The only part of that statement I’m going to agree with is
whatever you say.
Did you know that cold showers are healthier for you than hot ones?”

He grins back at me.

Walking in to the locker room, Nate punches me on the arm and we part ways to get cleaned up. Standing under the shower, all I can think about is how I told him Leila and I aren’t friends. This actually physically hurts me and it also reminds me of the look on her face the first time I told her she wasn’t my friend. I’ll never forget that look.

Following the encounter Leila and I had on the beach, I avoid her every time I see her, regardless of whether it’s on the beach, at the café, at a party, or once school started. I act like she doesn’t even exist, but she does.

Every morning I look for her. I tell myself that I’m not going to, but then I do. It’s as if my brain goes on autopilot and no matter how many pep talks I give myself, the minute I pull into the school parking lot I am looking for her.

On this particular day in October, the warning bell rings for Homeroom as Drew, our friends, and I head for the front door. I immediately spot Leila walking from the other direction. Her head is down and she doesn’t look as collected as she usually does. Something is wrong with her.

Throughout the day I see her and each time she looks worse than the time before. I know that I shouldn’t, but seeing her this way, looking so distressed, it makes me feel very uneasy.

Coming out of the guys’ locker room, I see her ahead of me in the hallway. Her posture hasn’t changed all day. Walking faster I catch up to her and wrap my arm around her shoulders pulling her close to me. She cringes, but just a little, and my side unexpectedly heats up from the contact. Quickly and silently I steer her into the school’s dark room for photography, close the door, and lock it.

“What’s wrong with you today?” I ask her as I fold my arms over my chest and lean against the counter. She’s watching me very closely. Her eyes are swollen with dark rings underneath them.

“I’ve been back now for five months and you haven’t spoken to me one time. Why should I tell you anything?” She’s angry and she’s right. I wasn’t thinking. I just reacted when I saw her in the hallway. Not once in this little move did I remember that I haven’t talked to her for almost three years. Anger and embarrassment hit me at the same time. I should walk out but seeing her eyes fill with tears, I just can’t.

I don’t say anything back to her. There’s nothing to say. Her eyes leave mine and the tears roll down her face.

Emotions of the heart are a funny thing. It doesn’t matter how badly she has hurt me, seeing her like this, it crushes me and causes me to temporarily forget everything.

I gently pull her to me and she steps between my legs. Both of my hands wrap around her head as I tilt her face so she’ll look at me. Her crystal blue eyes are so clear, watery,
and beautiful
. Using my thumbs, I wipe away some of her tears.

My heart is pounding in my chest. Being this close to her, touching her, makes me feel weak in the knees. I hate this physical reaction to her and want to grit my teeth.

For a split second my eyes leave hers and drop down to her mouth. Her lips are parted and look so inviting. No, clearing that thought, my eyes travel over her face and back to her eyes.

Watching me warily, slowly she leans forward and lays her head on my chest. I wrap my arms around her and memorize how it feels to hold this Leila, the sixteen-year-old Leila, who has curves, is gorgeous, and no longer mine.

“You are so much taller,” she says quietly.

Silence lingers in the air between us. I’m afraid to move, breathe, or talk, because even though we are here for her, no matter how much I hate to admit it . . . I need this too.

“My grandmother died.” Her voice catches on the last word, my chest instantly aches.

I tighten my hold. I’m not ready for her to pull back.

“I didn’t know that you were close to her.” I don’t ever remember her talking about any other relatives besides Aunt Ella and her cousin Chase.

“I wasn’t until we moved to Atlanta.”

Atlanta.

“That’s where you were, in Atlanta?”

She hears the tone shift in my voice and stiffens underneath me.

“Yes, we moved in with her.”

“Why?”

“Because, we had nowhere else to go.”

For some reason it never occurred to me that they didn’t have another home to go to. The plan prior to the fire was to move over to the mainland. I had just assumed that’s where she was. All this time, I thought she was somewhat close when she wasn’t.

“Oh. Well it’s nice that you got to spend some time with her.”

“I did. She was a wonderful woman. She taught me how to sew and we spent hours and hours together looking at fabrics and patterns.”

“That’s cool, I guess. What did you make? Like blankets and pillows or stuff?”

She sighs, “No, clothes.” Her hands slide down my chest and she lightly grabs onto my waist. Having her hands on me, almost makes me incoherent.

“For who?”

“Me. I outgrew all of mine and we couldn’t afford any more. My grandmother always loved sewing but her hands became too shaky over the years and eventually she had to give it up. I was lucky because she had kept everything and had an entire room filled with beautiful leftover fabrics.”