by Tara Sivec
Of course I’ve never truly believed the things he says to me, but that doesn’t stop it from hurting any less. Laura Bennett always taught me to know my worth. But words can cut, and when you’ve been sliced over and over for fifteen years, sometimes it’s hard to see past the scars and remember who you are. I don’t know how to handle a man who spends hours with glitter and a glue gun for me just so I don’t have to stress out about it. And I don’t know what to say to a man who always looks at me with a smile even when I’m telling him to eat shit.
Shepherd takes a step toward me, which moves him out of the shadows caused by the dugout and into the bright afternoon sun. All my confusion and emotions that make me want to do nothing but cry dry up instantly as a loud bark of laughter suddenly flies out of me, followed by a full solid minute of hysterical giggling.
“What’s up, Twilight?” I finally manage to spit out through my laughter, making Shepherd’s confused smile by my amusement turn into a frown.
“All right, that’s the third time today someone called me that,” he complains, crossing his arms with a huff that just makes me start laughing even harder. “Someone also called me Edward at Island Brew. What the fuck is going on with everyone today?”
At this point, I’m bent over at the waist while I gasp for breath, grabbing my phone out of my pocket and clicking on the camera app, switching it so it’s in selfie mode. Holding my phone out and up in front of Shepherd’s face, it only takes a second for him to see what the entire town has seen today while he’s been out and about.
“Son of a bitch,” he mutters, turning his head from left to right. No matter which way he turns, he’s still standing in direct sunlight. And he still sparkles.
“Do you not have a mirror in your cottage?” I snort, bringing my phone back, locking it, and shoving it back in my pocket.
“It was dark when I left this morning,” he grumbles.
“Well, that will teach you to use so much damn glitter. It was in my bottle of Tylenol,” I tell him, raising one eyebrow at him.
“Sorry. I had a headache after FaceTiming my sister for the second time so she could remind me how to use the Cricut.”
All I can do is shake my head at him, unable to keep my smile contained.
“Thank you. For everything you did last night and for taking Owen home. You have no idea how much that helped me.”
Shepherd takes a few steps toward me until there’s only two feet separating us. Part of me wants to take a step back, because he’s not making it any easier on me stopping myself from wrapping my arms around him, but now I can smell his yummy cologne, and my feet won’t let me move.
“Don’t ever thank me for helping out with shit people shouldn’t have piled on your plate in the first place.”
My heart starts beating faster, and I forget we’re standing out on a baseball field at a public school. It feels like it’s just the two of us and no one and nothing else matters but right here and now.
“I’m so sorry, Wren,” Shepherd whispers, my hands starting to shake in my back pockets and tears starting to prickle the backs of my eyes. “Hurting you was the last thing I ever wanted to do. I thought I was doing the right thing, but it was stupid, and selfish, and I’m so sorry. I have missed you every minute of every day I haven’t been able to talk to you.”
And just like that, I’m yanking my hands out of my pockets and closing the distance between us. As soon as my body slams into his and my arms go around his waist, Shepherd doesn’t hesitate to wrap his arms around me, keeping me held firmly against him. Turning my face to the side, I close my eyes and rest my cheek against his chest.
“Apology accepted,” I finally reply softly, listening to the quickly beating thump-thump-thump of Shepherd’s heart against my ear, perfectly in tune with my own rapidly beating heart. Feeling the weight of his strong arms around me and his warm, solid body pressed tightly against mine for the first time, nothing else matters and everything finally feels right in my world. “It’s fine.”
“I’m pretty sure the last week has proven it’s not fine,” Shepherd says with a small laugh that rumbles through his chest and against the side of my face, making me squeeze my arms tighter around his waist and breathe him in. I feel him rest his chin on top of my head, and I smile against him, just enjoying the feel of being in this man’s arms when I’ve been dreaming about it almost all my life.
“I’m sorry I was so weird.”
I feel his chest bounce with laughter again, and he slowly starts rocking our hug from side to side, shifting his arms around me and hugging me tighter.
“I like it when you’re weird.”
We’re both quiet for a few minutes, still wrapped up in our hug with his chin still resting on top of my head.
“I’m sorry,” he says again quietly.
“Stop.” I laugh softly, clasping my hands together against his lower back when I finally pull my head away from his chest so I can look up at him. And regret it immediately.
I’m several inches shorter than him, but even with our height difference, I’m still closer to his mouth than I’ve ever been before. All I’d have to do is push up on my toes, and my lips would be on his. I try not to, but I can’t help it. My eyes flicker down to his mouth, and something that sounds like a groan rumbles deep in Shepherd’s chest, forcing my eyes back up to his. A muscle tics in his jaw as he stares down at me, no longer rocking us from side to side.
“Believe me, I get it,” I finally speak, needing to break the silence. “I saw it on the news. It was very sweet and romantic. I’m happy for you.”
It was stupid, and over the top, and ridiculous, and I want to puke on the front of your shirt right now.
Lost in the feel of Shepherd’s smell, Shepherd’s body, and Shepherd’s arms around me, imagining it was just the two of us and nothing else mattered, it completely escaped my attention that this entire time, we’ve been standing right on home plate. Exactly where Alana Caldwell stood wrapped in this man’s arms and then sealed their new, exclusive relationship with a kiss. It’s not the same home plate, but it reminds me it isn’t just the two of us, and it never was. All of the butterflies flapping around excitedly in my stomach suddenly turn to nausea.
“No, you don’t get it,” Shepherd tells me as I try to pull back out of his arms, but he holds tight and doesn’t let me. “Go to dinner with me tonight. Let me explain.”
This time, I unwind my arms from around his waist, bring them between us, and shove against his chest as hard as I can until he final releases me and I take a few steps back.
“There’s nothing you need to explain.” I laugh instead of cry, waving him away with my hand as I take another much-needed step back from him. “Believe me, I get it. You apologized, and I thank you for that. I know we can’t go back to the way it used to be, but at least now we can be civilized when we see each other.”
I don’t know how I manage not to throw up in the dirt when I say those words, but I do. I even punctuate them with a smile.
“Okay, I’m obviously not doing this right,” Shepherd mutters, running a hand through his short hair in frustration. “I want you to go to dinner with me tonight. As in a date. With me. Tonight. Maybe I should have led with that.”
If this was a year ago and he was standing right in front of me, looking so adorably nervous, I would have jumped up and down screaming in joy. But this isn’t a year ago. And this is some bullshit.
“Are you kidding me right now?” I mutter, holding back the urge to shout at him.
Barely.
“I’m so bad at this,” he complains, taking a step toward me while I take another one back before I punch him. “I’m trying to say I’m not with Alana anymore. She broke up with me. So it’s cool now! We don’t have to just be civilized with each other.”
He punctuates his words with a small laugh, and that sound is louder than a gun being shot right next to my ear and does just as much damage. My vision tunnels, I see spots, and my legs no longer want to
support my body, but for some reason, they do, and I don’t know how I’m not curled up in the fetal position in the dirt right now. Everything I’ve always wanted is happening right before my eyes. Shepherd Oliver wants to date me! But it’s all bullshit, and I’m so tired of trying to shut everything off when someone cuts me.
“Well, aren’t I just the luckiest girl in the world that you got dumped,” I whisper when my brain finally catches up to what is happening right now and I remember how to speak. I shake my head at him as the stupid tears I told myself I wouldn’t cry spill over onto my cheeks. “Shepherd Oliver is on the rebound and wants to date little ole me.”
“That’s not what I—”
“God, do you have any idea how long I’ve waited to hear those words from you?” I ask, cutting him off and swiping angrily at the wetness on my cheeks. “Since I was thirteen years old and you told me I looked pretty when you stopped by the Dip and Twist.”
I watch as his body jolts in surprise, and I don’t even give him time to fully recover from what I just said before much more than tears start pouring out of me. Fifteen years of word vomit comes out right along with them.
“But you were the outgoing, popular jock surrounded by people, and I was the boring, quiet girl who blended in with the wallpaper, who always forgot how to speak when you were around,” I sob as Shepherd’s mouth drops open in shock, and I take another step back from him. “I wanted you in high school, and every time I watched you play on TV after that, and I still wanted you a year ago through every single one of those messages, and it’s no coincidence I decided to get drunk and have a one-night-stand for the first and last time on the very same night you were drafted to play for Washington, so you can just go to hell with asking me out now because you got dumped! I’ve waited more than half my life for you to finally see me and finally want me, and I’m so glad it’s cool now and she broke up with you, but I deserve better than to be someone’s second choice just because he’s bored and lonely. So no, I don’t want to go to dinner with you, and I don’t want to date you, because my mother raised me better than this. I deserve better than being someone’s fucking consolation prize, no matter how goddamn good he is with a glue gun.”
I don’t even care when a sound comes out of Shepherd unlike anything I’ve ever heard before that almost brings me to my knees and stops me from walking away. Part sob, part growl, part someone just stabbed him with a knife. It’s painful and it’s heart-wrenching and it perfectly matches the look on his face that I don’t care about either, as I turn around and walk away, leaving him in the dirt behind home plate.
“Wren!”
I hear Shepherd shout my name, and I pick up the pace, flinging open the gate and exiting the field.
“How in the hell could you have ever been a consolation prize, when I didn’t even know you were a goddamn choice!”
My feet stutter at his words when I reach the sidewalk, but I quickly recover and keep right on walking. Because maybe I do still care, but I just can’t handle it right now.
CHAPTER 8
Shepherd
“You caught my heart.”
Official Shepherd Oliver: Testing, testing, is this thing on? Hey, all you cool cats and kittens!
Official Shepherd Oliver: Okay, probably not the time for jokes. I don’t even know if you check your messages on here anymore or not, but I have to try something. You won’t answer my texts or my phone calls. There was a small, contained fire in my driveway last night, and now I can’t find my new Nike hoodie, so I’m assuming I can’t ask Tess about you. And Birdie said she really wanted to talk to me, but sister code prevented her from doing so. I’m trying to give you some space. Otherwise, you can bet your sweet ass I would be on your doorstep right now. Fuck, Wren… How could you just say something like that to me and then walk away?
Official Shepherd Oliver: I’m sorry. I’m not mad at you. I’m mad at myself, not you. NEVER you. I never should have let you walk away. I was just in shock. All of this is on me, because I’m a fucking dumbass. I just promised your son a few nights ago that I would never hurt you again, and not more than 24 hours later, I broke that promise. I’m sorry. And I’m sorry I keep giving you reasons that I have to apologize. Everything I wanted to say came out all wrong the other day. I can’t believe you actually thought… Actually, I can. Because I’m a dumbass who doesn’t know how to use words. Please, talk to me, Wren.
Official Shepherd Oliver: I see you haven’t read these yet, so I’m probably typing all of this into the void, but whatever. I have to do something, because this is killing me.
Official Shepherd Oliver: You said to me, “Do you have any idea how long I’ve waited to hear you say those words?” Well, ditto. Fucking ditto, Wren. Christ, do you have any idea how hard it is saying this shit to you right now, after everything you said to me, when you’re not standing right in front of me so I can put my arms around you again, and hold you again, and tell you everything I should have said that I didn’t? Everything I meant to say that came out all wrong, because you know what, Wren? You tie my tongue up in knots too. You always have. So, here you go. Everything I should have said that I didn’t when you came to me at the ballfield the other day and I was an idiot. Alana was never, EVER my first choice. She was just there, when the person I really wanted was 3,000 miles away and I thought she was taken.
Official Shepherd Oliver: That day at the Dip and Twist, when I told you that you were pretty, that’s actually kind of a funny story. We had just won the tournament to take us to the state finals, and my dad naturally brought me to your family’s place to celebrate, like always. We were standing in line, it was a few weeks before 7th grade started, and he said to me, “So, what 7th grade girl do we have our eye on this year?” You were helping your mom out and had just stepped up to the window to hand someone their order. My dad looked down at me staring at you with a big shit-eating grin on my face, and do you know what Simon Oliver said next? “Wren Bennett?” He snorted. LEGIT SNORTED AT ME. Then he said, “She’s out of your league. Aim lower, kid.” You were always out of my league, Wren. I knew from the moment I met you that you were nicer than me, kinder than me, sweeter than me, and better than me. I never deserved even one minute of your time. But you were the prettiest girl I’d ever seen, and after you handed me my sundae, I couldn’t walk away without telling you.
Official Shepherd Oliver: Do you remember my first day of work at the Dip and Twist? It was a week after my 16th birthday, it was a slow Sunday afternoon, it was just the two of us, and you were in charge of training me. I dropped the container of sprinkles three times that afternoon. It was the first time you ever said something sarcastic to me. Honestly, before that point, I thought you hated me, because you’d always walk away whenever I was around and would barely say two words to me. The third time I dropped the sprinkles, you put your hands on your hips and said, “Thank God you don’t do that during games.” And then you quickly apologized for saying something mean, while I laughed the entire time we cleaned up the mess. Do you know why I dropped that container three times that day? Because every time I went to reach for it, you were standing right next to me, and you brushed your arm against mine. I literally blacked out all three times and don’t even remember letting go of that plastic container.
Official Shepherd Oliver: Remember the beach party Megan Pickard threw after homecoming our junior year? You were cleaning up all the plastic Solo cups everyone tossed all over the place, and I came over and helped you. I told you that stupid story from when I was a kid and my sister dared me to pee on the electric fence at my grandparents’ farm. I tried to stop myself from telling that story as soon as the words started tumbling out of my mouth, but you started walking away from me, and I just didn’t want you to go. And then you were standing there in the moonlight with the ocean splashing around your bare feet and ankles, looking up at me with those gorgeous blue eyes, and I got nervous. I felt the need to repeat the line “It was like sticking my dick on a 9-volt battery” a hu
ndred times, because you were just so pretty, and I just wanted to kiss you. But I didn’t. Because the sound of your laugh made me forget my own name, and I told you about electrocuting my junk instead.
Official Shepherd Oliver: You know how senior year in physics class we were always in the same group for projects, even though it was usually alphabetical by last name? Since Coach Dunham was our teacher, I made a deal with him that I’d drag and rake the infield and re-chalk the lines after every practice for the entire year if he always put us in the same group. Worth it.
Official Shepherd Oliver: I told your mom my dad wouldn’t let me work Saturday mornings because I needed to train and I needed to switch to Saturday nights instead. I didn’t have to train. You worked with Connor Daniels on Saturday nights, and all he did was stare at your ass whenever you weren’t looking, and I didn’t trust him being alone with you closing up on those nights. And then your wonderful mother changed the schedule, and I was the one staring at your ass whenever you weren’t looking, sooo….
Official Shepherd Oliver: Remember how the National Honor Society would sell single roses every year for Valentine’s Day that you could have delivered to someone during class? And remember how you, Tess, Birdie, and Emily would all send each other roses, and every year you got one from a secret admirer, and you would all sit around blaming each other, because you thought it was a joke? It was me. Now I’m realizing I should have just signed my fucking name.
Official Shepherd Oliver: You know what my first thought was when I signed that contract the night of the draft? It wasn’t about how much money I’d make, it wasn’t about how cool it all was, and it wasn’t about what it would be like the first time I heard the roar of the crowd when I stepped out onto the Hawks’ field. It was that I’d be moving away from you and I didn’t know when I’d ever see you smile again, or hear you laugh again, and that I’d just wasted a whole bunch of years never telling you how I felt, and now it was too late.
