by Julie Cross
I roll my eyes but keep my back to them while I quickly butter a piece of toast, grab two bottles of Gatorade and a few granola bars for lunch. While the toast is hanging from my mouth and my hands are busy stuffing items in my bag, Mom finally takes a second to look me over.
“You’re not going out like that, are you? No makeup? Shorts and gym shoes? Daddy’s making enough money now to get you a little better wardrobe, right?” Her face lights up and she reaches out and grabs my wrist. “I know! Let’s go shopping. Get you something nice and have some time to talk, just us. We never get to spend time together.”
“And whose fault is that?” I yank the zipper on my bag closed and toss it over my shoulder. “I can’t go shopping. I have cross-country practice.”
I’m so looking forward to a nice long run, pounding my feet into the ground over and over again. Maybe I’ll imagine Mom’s face underneath my shoe.
Lenny London: It’s been brought to my attention that I’m not emotionally secure enough to date an intellectual superior. You know what? Screw you. And btw, you are so not smarter than me.
2 hours ago
Jason Brody Royals Pitcher: Less than 5 hours until my first trip to LA. What’s on the must-see/must-do list?
30 minutes ago
Annie Lucas: Should eat more than a piece of toast before a 12-mile run. Starving. Craving hot dogs and fried mozzarella.
5 minutes ago
I’m texting Brody while walking through the stadium toward Savannah’s office. My hair is wet from showering after practice, and I’m carting a bag full of sweaty, smelly clothes over my shoulder.
ME: where are you?
BRODY: in the stadium
ME: I know that, dork. But where exactly?
BRODY: telling you could put you in danger. Where are you?
ME: down the hall from Savannah’s office
BRODY: don’t move
I stop and glance around for less than a minute before Brody comes walking down the hall toward me. The second I catch sight of his stylishly messy dark hair and the suit and tie he’s required to wear for team travel, my heart takes off and the memories of being tangled together on his couch yesterday come flooding back. To avoid showing him my flaming cheeks, I take my time bending over and tucking my phone back into my bag.
When I return to standing, Brody’s leaning one shoulder against the wall, so I do the same and watch as he slides closer.
“Hey.”
There are so many words loaded inside that one hey, and the weight of where we were and where we are now hits me in one quick punch.
“Hey,” I say back then notice the hot dog in his hand. “Don’t let Frank catch you with that. Ten thousand dollar fine.”
He laughs and holds it out to me. “He did catch me and when I told him it was for you, I had to listen to a really long story about why he knows that you like ketchup on one side, mustard on the other and a pickle laying across the mustard side.”
I drop my gaze to the hot dog and the memory I’d tucked carefully away for years comes back to me in an instant. I’m not in the mood to dredge up the past, so I ask Brody, “What did he tell you?”
His eyes meet mine, an amused smile tugging at his mouth. “Just that he took you to a Rangers game when you were like six or seven, and he bought you a hot dog with ketchup and you told him he made it wrong. While he was helping you carefully dress a new hot dog to your liking, he missed one of the greatest game-changing plays in major league baseball history.”
The game-changing moment isn’t anywhere in my memories, but Frank and me alone at the game is. Where was Dad?
And then I remember the relapse he’d had. There was another surgery, something that needed to be removed…a tumor, maybe? Then more radiation. He was sick most of second grade. And Mom stayed away the whole time. My teachers forgave the missed homework and reading time, my constant mess of tangled hair and worn-out clothes, not to mention my consistent lack of lunch money.
“You okay?” Brody asks.
I meet his gaze and force a smile before taking the hot dog from his hands. “Yeah, just thinking. I forget sometimes how long Frank has been hanging around my dad.”
“Frank’s a good guy.” He leaves the statement open like a question, waiting for me to elaborate. I’m not going there today. He’s right, Frank is a good guy, but every memory I have proving that comes with some pretty bad memories.
I brush my fingers down his blue striped tie. I barely notice him shuffling his feet closer to mine, but I feel the heat building in the space between us. I meet his gaze again. “Thanks for bringing me lunch.”
His eyes dart around the hall and then fall back on mine. He leans down and touches his mouth to mine. My stomach flutters and without even realizing what I’m doing, my hands grip tightly around his tie, pulling him closer.
Brody breaks off the kiss just before my hot dog gets smashed between us. “Not here, okay? We’re more covert than that.” His fingers lace through mine, and he smiles again. “I’ll call you tonight when I get to LA.” He raises our hands to his lips, kissing my knuckles before releasing me.
I stand on my tiptoes and plant one more kiss on his mouth before turning around. “See you in three days.”
I’m walking down the hall, smiling at my hot dog (it’s almost too perfect to eat) when I hear Savannah’s raised voice coming from her office around the corner. I almost head right in, assuming she’s on the phone speaking sternly to some tabloid writer, but then I hear a second voice that causes me to stop and eavesdrop.
“Consider me informed,” Dad says. “Evelyn won’t be left alone with Ginny again, I swear.”
And yeah, Brody’s so right about us not getting touchy-feely in the stadium hallway. How close were we to getting caught by Dad?
“I just don’t get it,” Savannah says. “What are you possibly gaining from keeping her around?”
“I don’t know,” Dad says, his voice fading. “It’s not something I can explain to you.”
“Well, humor me,” she snaps. “I’d love to be further educated on the workings of the insecure male mind.”
Holy shit, she’s pissed.
“She’s still my wife. Ginny’s known me almost my entire life. We grew up together.”
“Then you should be able to see her for what she is better than anyone else—selfish and cold.”
Oh boy…
“You spent thirty seconds with her.” Dad’s voice elevates, gaining strength and flipping into defensive mode. “You have no idea what you’re talking about. She’s the only woman who doesn’t look at me like I’m an invalid.”
“That’s not true,” Savannah says firm and eerie.
“How would you know?” Dad counters. “There’s not exactly a plethora of women waiting to meet a thirty-six-year-old one-legged man with a teenage daughter and a mother-in-law with Alzheimer’s to take care of.”
I figure the conversation will be done after that because how can Savannah counter an answer like that? I glance around looking for something to dive behind so Dad doesn’t think I’ve been listening in, but Savannah isn’t finished.
“That’s bullshit,” she says. “I bet you haven’t even tried to put yourself out there again. You assume that’s what people see. Are you really insecure enough to believe she’s the best you can get? Ask Annie what she thinks. Ask her how she feels about her mother constantly jerking both of you around.”
“Don’t act like you know my daughter better than I do just because she spent the night in your apartment complaining about her parents. I appreciate you helping and telling me about the Evelyn situation this morning, but I’m done discussing my personal life with you.”
The door slams shut, vibrating through the hall. I dive behind a shelf full of white towels and wait for the thud of Dad’s non-leg to fade away.
I can’t believe Savannah laid into him like that. Especially after her being so neutral and see-the-bigger-picture last night. She seemed genuinely furious wit
h him, and it had nothing to do with her at all. The endorphins built during cross-country practice must have done miracles for my mood because I’m actually feeling a tad bit sorry for Dad.
I munch on my hot dog while taking the long way around the stadium to Dad’s office. The fight with Savannah distracted me enough to forget that I’d stormed out of the house yesterday pissed off at him. So when I walk inside his office and give a casual, “Hey, Dad,” his mouth falls open and he’s momentarily speechless.
“I’m sorry about leaving Grams this morning,” he says finally. “And just so you know, I didn’t tell Mom where we were. She found out on her own after seeing a game on TV.”
“Okay,” I say, slowly releasing a breath and leaning against the doorframe. “But now what?”
His face speaks a dozen words all at once. He’s tired. He’s afraid of what’s going to happen with his coaching job. He’s shaken by his fight with Savannah.
Dad sighs. “Do you think…would it be possible for you to put up with her for three days until I get back from California? Caroline’s going to stay in the guest room the whole time and take care of Grams. You can have a three-day sleepover with Lenny if you want.”
He’s so desperate for a quick resolution, I’m half expecting him to offer me money next. And then I do what most girls my age would do and let my mind wander to places it shouldn’t be. Ideas for using his guilt to my advantage. An opportunity to drop some sketchy info and not get hit with a retaliation of a million questions.
“Fine,” I say.
His face sinks into his hands. “Thank you, Ann.”
“I’m late already so I better get going to help Savannah,” I say. “Have a good trip.”
Dad stands up from his desk and walks around, pulling me into a hug before I can escape. “We’ll figure something out when I get back, okay? I’ve got some thinking to do.”
“Good.” I pull away and then casually add, “Also…I’ve been helping Brody with his GED studying, just a little bit. And he passed one section of a practice test the other day. If I have time after you guys get back, I’m gonna try and help him study for the next part.”
You know, alone in his apartment…
He leans in, kisses the top of my head, and gives me a winning Dad smile. “That community service is really carving a hole into your steel heart, huh?”
I roll my eyes. “Not a chance. I just know I’m going to end up editing all his social media stuff if he doesn’t educate himself on the finer points of grammar and spelling.”
“You don’t fool me, Annie Marie.” He gives me one more big hug. “I love you. Be good while I’m gone?”
“I love you, too, Dad,” I say. “And I’ll be a perfect angel while you’re playing the Angels.”
But when you get back, that’s when I’ll start taking cues from the little devil seated on my other shoulder.
Chapter 20
Jason Brody Royals Pitcher: L.A., you move way too fast, even for this Chicago boy.
3 hours ago
Annie Lucas: has played out the remainder of her day inside her head during hot, sticky cross-country practice run and is still anticipating the outcome. Correction—I’m anticipating being in the moment more so than seeing the end.
27 minutes ago
It takes me an unnatural length of time to gain the courage to actually knock on Brody’s door after days of anticipating this moment. We’ve spent so much more time as friends and hardly any time like this. And this caused me to chew a few fingernails and feel my stomach churn before facing him. I mean, it is a confusing situation with our roles shifting so suddenly. Do we hug? Do we kiss right away? Do we swing our arms awkwardly and not make eye contact for several uncomfortable minutes before someone says, “So…?” followed by the other person saying, “So…?”
But lucky for me, Brody has a plan of his own.
The second he opens the door to his apartment, I’m tugged inside before I even have a chance to get a good look at him. He shuts the door quickly and presses me against it.
“Did you really have to run past my window in that hot-pink sports bra three times this morning?” he asks, leaning down, his mouth hovering close to mine.
My heart is sprinting despite the fact that my legs are completely void of any energy. You wouldn’t think three days apart would feel like an eternity, but they really did. “Coach picked the route. I just followed it.”
He pulls back a little, his gaze meeting mine. “Are you hungry? Do you want to get lunch?”
I can tell food is the last thing on his mind, but he’s trying to be polite. I drop my gym bag on the floor and lift my arms around his neck, pressing my fingers into it until our lips finally meet. My head spins, my vision blurring, my entire body tingling and completely at his mercy.
I barely take notice of his arms tightening around me, and then my feet are off the ground. I wrap my legs around his waist, and he carries me into the kitchen, setting me down on the counter beside the stove. Releasing my hold on his neck, I glance around, dazed and confused.
“This isn’t exactly where I thought you were taking me.” My eyes betray me and flit in the direction of his bedroom.
Brody leans back and laughs. “We’re going to be very good today, Annie. Got it?”
I eye him skeptically. “What’s your definition of good?”
He turns around and opens the fridge. “Making you lunch, kissing, studying, more kissing, avoiding my bedroom or the couch,” he rattles off like he’s rehearsed it.
And even though I’ve spent my fair share of time rounding the bases—well, three of them, anyway—a small amount of pressure lifts from my shoulders hearing that his intentions for the afternoon aren’t even R-rated. But there’s no way I’m going to let him know about any of this apprehension. Not when I’m trying to shake the high-school-girl image from his brain.
I wrap my hands around the edge of the countertop for balance. “If that was your plan, why did you practically assault me the second you opened the door?”
He’s sifting through half a dozen neatly stacked blue containers. “Only to keep you from biting your nails and turning bright red after seeing me.”
I smile down at my lap, my face heating up again. Isn’t that exactly what I did before he opened the door? “What’s with the fridge full of GladWare?” I ask, changing the subject.
“The trainer hired this nutritionist who delivers precooked, organic, healthy, full-of-vegetables-I-didn’t-know-existed meals.” He drops a stack of three containers into my lap and sets three of his own onto the stove in front of him. “Guess she came while I was gone. You inspect those, and I’ll try and identify these.”
I feel under my ass for the paper I remembered Brody sitting me on top of a minute ago. “There’s a cheat sheet.” I take a minute to read it over. “I’ve got chicken parm with asparagus, blackened catfish with apple stuffing, and roasted crab cakes with lobster sauce.”
He lifts the lid on the chicken dish on top of my stack and leans in, sniffing. “That doesn’t sound terrible.”
“I’m claiming the crab cakes.” I glance at the paper again for the reheating instructions. “I bet this fancy meal-delivery service costs a fortune.”
“I know,” he agrees. “Can’t believe they footed the bill. Beats buying groceries.”
“Wow, so you’re just gonna jump right from poor minor league player to not even doing your own grocery shopping and letting a fancy service cook for you?” Nobody except hired help cooks at Lenny’s house, and it’s just really weird.
Brody rolls his eyes. “I went to the grocery store. Several times. I even put things in my cart, but then I’d go to check out and I couldn’t bring myself to spend the money. I ended up putting almost everything back. Except the ramen noodles, pizza rolls, and ketchup.”
“No wonder you’re always eating at my house.”
I feel lips graze my ear, and it gives me instant goose bumps. “Right. That’s why I’m always at your house.�
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My stomach flips over, anxiety bubbling. It’s one thing for him to have this impulsive urge to kiss me, this attraction between us. But it’s a completely different thing to hear that he simply likes being around me. It’s too much.
Too much like love.
But I’m enjoying this too much to let that thought stick around for more than a few seconds. I hand over the middle container of the three on my lap. “You can have the catfish dinner. It’s got the lowest calories, which is good, since you’ve spent two games sitting on the bench.”
“I wasn’t benched.” He grabs onto the side of the crab cake dinner. “It’s called the pitching rotation. It wasn’t my turn.”
“Regardless…” I yank the crab cakes from him and pat his stomach, feeling nothing but rock-hard abs. “Wouldn’t want you to get flabby while you’re on the lazy part of the rotation.”
He narrows his eyes playfully. “I’m pitching tomorrow, but whatever. Eat my crab cakes.”
I hop down from the counter and flash him another smile. “Thanks.”
“Why can’t we sit on the couch?” I beg. “I know you haven’t exercised your legs recently, but mine are screaming at me.”
Brody finally sighs and snatches the thick GED study book, then pulls me up by my hand in one swift motion. We’ve been at his kitchen table for two hours now, and it took us less than twenty minutes to eat.
I skip my way over to the couch and flop onto my back, making a big show of leaving room for Brody. The way he’s acting all panicked today, I wouldn’t put it past him to sit on the floor instead of beside me. Luckily, he sinks into the empty spot, places the book on my stomach, and brings my feet onto his lap.
“So…why is it so hard for you to buy groceries? Aren’t they paying you enough?” I ask, wanting to take advantage of the GED break to drill him with more personal questions.
“Yeah, they’re paying me enough.” He glances at me and then at the ceiling. “My agent says people like me will either struggle to spend money once they have it or spend it all and go bankrupt every month. It’s a big change, you know?”
