I glanced at Mallory, expecting the usual girly tears from such an emotional declaration. That’s not what I saw. Her face was as pale as a corpse as she stared wide-eyed at the screen. She wrung her hands together in her lap, scraping her nails over the reddened skin. I reached toward her and covered her hand. Her head snapped toward me, and our old friend fear reflected in her eyes. No, not fear, complete terror.
“Do you need to leave?” I asked slowly, enunciating each word.
She couldn’t speak even as she opened her mouth to answer me. So she nodded. I helped her to her feet, held out her coat, and let her lead from the lounge. We walked the old familiar path to her car in silence. Her hands were shaking so badly that she dropped her keys three times before I took them from her and unlocked the door with the remote.
“Talk to me,” I whispered, leaning against the driver’s door so she couldn’t climb in and get herself killed.
Her voice still hadn’t returned, and she shook her head again. I watched her for a minute. She kept her head down and shuffled her feet with nervous energy. Reaching out, I touched her shoulder and opened my arms. Mallory glanced up at me with wary eyes.
“Come here,” I whispered.
Whatever was warring inside her mind, the need for comfort won out. She collapsed in my arms, sobbing uncontrollably. I held her close and ran my fingers along her spine, making shushing sounds and telling her it was okay even though I had no idea what caused the sudden onslaught.
Her tears slowed, and I pulled my head back to look down at her. “Let me take you home.”
She sniffled and finally found her voice. “I can drive.”
“Maybe, but I don’t think you should, and I would never forgive myself if you were in an accident. Please, Mallory, let me take care of you.”
Her lip sucked into her mouth, but for once, she didn’t think too long. “How will you get back?”
“Don’t worry about that. Seth or Chuck will come get me.” I steered her to the passenger side and helped her in. Once I settled into the driver’s seat, I turned the key, enjoying the low rumble of the engine as it roared to life. “I knew you’d let me drive it sooner or later.”
Mallory let out a small laugh. “Just take it easy, cowboy.”
“Cowboy?” I raised an eyebrow at her. “I like the sound of that.”
She rewarded me with an eye roll. Her phone rang in her pocket. She pulled it out and stared at the screen for a moment. I waited to back out until she gave me directions. Whoever was on the other end made her hesitate. Finally, she swiped the screen.
“Hey.” She turned away from me while she listened. “You shouldn’t have done that.”
Why’d she turn away from me?
She sucked a sob back in. “We’ll talk about this later, Cutter. Just… Not now.”
Cutter? Why’d she feel the need to hide?
“I’m sorry. That was… Anyway, turn right out of the lot.” She sat ramrod straight in her seat. “My house is pretty easy to get to.”
Mallory lived on the edge of town not far from the campus. The closer we got to her house, the more tension built in her body. Whether it was from the phone call or from me being so close to her house, I didn’t know.
As instructed, I parked in front of a small shotgun style house that had a room sitting on top of the back. It looked like an L that was tipped over from the right and was nestled between two small A-frames.
I followed Mallory, feeling eyes on me from every direction. When I glanced around, there wasn’t anybody in sight. It was creepy even though I knew it was just a nosy neighbor. Mallory unlocked the front door, took a visible breath, and stepped inside, flicking on a light.
She dropped her keys into a tortoiseshell bowl and hung her coat on a hook in the short hallway. A gray tabby leaped on the bench and meowed. Mallory scratched it behind its ears as she set her bags beside it. The cat jumped down and disappeared into the small living room, but not before glaring at me. Mallory followed it. The room had a plum couch and matching chair. It didn’t fit her. On the far wall was an old TV surround by photos in ornate frames. I took in every part of the house; each bit seemed more old lady-ish. A crocheted afghan hung over the back of the chair and lacy doilies centered every table. Just past the couch was an open kitchen with almond countertops and appliances. Beyond that was another short hallway, steps to the upper floor, and three doors. I wanted to explore the rooms to see if there was any space that was hers and not her grandmother’s.
“Take off your coat,” Mallory instructed, motioning to the coat rack.
I wasn’t expecting her to let me stay for very long, but I also hadn’t texted Chuck to get me yet, either. After hanging up my coat, I followed her to the couch. There was one single personal touch in the room that screamed Mallory. Her books were stacked on the table and beneath an end table. Her cat watched me from its perch on the back of the couch. The photos around the TV were clearly family. Curiosity got the best of me and I stood, stepping over to them. An old black-and-white photo of a beautiful brunette in a wedding gown holding hands with a guy with wild hair stood in a silver frame next to a similar photo of a woman with wild curly hair, holding the hand of a trim, athletic man.
“My grandparents.” Mallory pointed at the black-and-white photo then moved her finger over to the other one. “My parents.”
I glanced over my shoulder at her. Mallory’s gaze stared off into another place, maybe another time. I picked up one of Mallory in a red graduation gown holding her high school diploma. Her expression was blank, neither happy nor sad. The rest of the photos were of her parents or her grandparents. There weren’t any more of her.
Mallory sniffled, and I drew my gaze back to her. She curled her legs to her chest, resting her cheek on her knees while she watched me. One last tear trickled from her eye.
I opened my arms to her. “Come here.”
She shook her head.
“Then talk to me.” I paused before adding, “About anything you want. You don’t have to tell me what set you off tonight, but for the love of all things, Mallory, talk to me.”
I couldn’t say how long we sat like that, staring at each other. Waiting was torture, but that was the only thing I really knew how to do with her.
“I’m not good at this,” she said.
“Good at what?”
She didn’t answer. The silence pressed on my chest. I stood to relieve the pressure of the frustration building inside. It had been growing for a long time and I didn’t want to let it out now. Five weeks and I still knew so little about her. I paced the room for several minutes before kneeling in front of her. My knee popped, sending electric shocks of complete agony through my heart. The only thing I could do was to ignore it. Focus on Mallory. I could see myself and the desperation on my face as I stared into her eyes.
“Why won’t you talk to me?” I asked.
Neither one of us blinked as I waited for her answer. “I don’t… Aaron, I don’t really talk to people.”
Closing my eyes, I released a frustrated breath. Bullshit. She talks to her friend in L.A. And her friend in St. Louis. The Hipster, the people in her classes. And Cutter, whoever that was. “Don’t or won’t, Mallory?”
Her body started to shake again, and I moved beside her, pulling her into my arms. The tears erupted as soon as her face was buried in my chest. Christ, even if I could get her to talk, what would she tell me? There was something dark lurking just beneath her surface. She fought it every day. She made herself an island.
“It’s okay, Mallory,” I whispered into her hair. “Whatever it is, it’s going to be okay. I’m here. I’m not going anywhere.”
I meant it. Every fucking word. I wasn’t going anywhere. I’d started this thing with Mallory Fine to solve the mystery of her, but it had grown into so much more. Solving the mystery was one thing, but unraveling all the knots that tied her up was another. I wanted to do both.
“My parents died when I was fourteen,” she said through a round of snif
fles. “They…they were on their way back from a baseball game in Iowa City when a tractor trailer rear-ended them.” She raised her head, meeting my gaze. “I…I was at a softball tournament in Council Bluffs when…Grandma came to the field and told me.”
Her head fell against my shoulder. I couldn’t imagine what she must have felt. My parents weren’t perfect, but I still had them. But why weren’t they at her tourney? Why did they go to Iowa City for a baseball game? A piece of Mallory kicked into place. Her mom and dad chose baseball over her. And it cost them their lives. If they’d chosen Mallory, they never would’ve been on that road, never would’ve been in that accident. No wonder she hated the game so much.
An hour and a half later, I left Mallory asleep on her couch. The gray tabby reappeared, curling up beside her and hissing at me. I covered her with the afghan, barely missing the claws of death swatting my way. The cat glared at me as I left the house. I caught a cab back to the dorm. I fell into my own bed, colder than I’d ever felt. For the first time since grade school, I had nightmares. When I woke the next day, a cold sweat covered my body and all I could remember was Mallory walking away from me no matter how much I begged her to stay.
Chapter Thirteen
For the next couple of weeks, Mallory acted like nothing had happened the night the Cardinals won the World Series. I let her. She curled back into her cocoon almost completely. We didn’t discuss baseball. We didn’t really hang out like we had been, either. During our tutoring sessions, we focused on the twenty-page paper I had to turn in to make up for the missing work, low grades, and stupid participation points. I swore Dr. Monroe was the only prof who actually tracked that shit.
The best thing that could’ve happened was the visit to the doctor. My recovery was now ahead of schedule. After all the setbacks, the doubts, staying off it the extra week made a world of difference. Four weeks of physical therapy, and it was over. Angela wasn’t going to torture me anymore, but I had to keep up a prescribed regimen through the athletic department. The rest was up to me. Well, and Seth’s help. As much as I hated the needles, it helped. I’d be able to play sooner. Maybe not at the beginning of the season, but in enough time for the scouts to see me.
Barry was more disappointed than I expected. He’d finally found his calling, at least. My knee wasn’t 100 percent yet, and it probably wouldn’t be for a while. I just needed to keep up the boost through the end of November to be ready for training next semester. I felt stronger every day, and my knee was improving better than I had hoped.
The Tuesday before Thanksgiving, I finally broke the new, silently enforced “no personal talk” rule.
“What’re you doing for Thanksgiving?” I asked as Mallory marked over the latest draft of my paper with a purple pen.
Her head shot up, and the deep crease returned between her eyebrows. That wasn’t good. She shrugged, going back to my paper. I waited until we were in the elevator to bring it up again. This time I welcomed the lift’s screeching halt between the second and third floors.
“I don’t know what I did, but I’m sorry,” I said as I leaned against the wall opposite her.
She kept her eyes forward, and her body held the same tension it had for the last few weeks. I hadn’t seen relaxed Mallory since before the game. “You didn’t do anything, Aaron.”
I rubbed the back of my neck. “Friends don’t lie to each other.” The elevator shuddered as it lurched downward. I waited until we were past the second floor before I hit below the belt. “But I guess you don’t want to be friends anymore.”
She reached in front of me and slapped her palm on the stop button, bringing the car to another halt. “That’s bullshit.”
Anger. An emotion I didn’t think she had. I raised my eyebrows, knowing it would antagonize her. “Really? That’s not how it feels. You’re shutting me out again. You have since—”
She slumped against the back wall. “I know. I’m sorry. I just…”
Her anger might have disappeared in an instant, but mine flared. I slammed my fist into the button for the lobby a half a floor away. For once, it eased into its descent. “Of course you are. Protect yourself, Mallory. No matter who it hurts.”
“I’m not protecting myself, I’m protecting you.” Her voice was so calm, so clear, I had no doubt she believed that.
“I don’t need you to protect me,” I said as I lifted her chin. “Whatever you’re hiding from, I can handle it. Just let me in.”
The doors conveniently opened, and Mallory bolted out of the library in a sprint. I debated about going after her. What could I say?
I didn’t need anything from her but her trust. And that was something she wasn’t willing to give easily.
I’d been lying in my bed, staring at the ceiling when a light knock interrupted my pity party. Weighing my options to either ignore it or answer it, I caved to another light rap and forced myself to the door. A little bubble of hope grew when I thought it could’ve been Mallory.
Nope. Should’ve known better.
Trish stared at me with wide eyes. I knew this look. She wanted something only I could offer. After we first broke up, I shredded through every memory we shared, searching for signs that she wasn’t into me. When I looked for them, they were pretty obvious. Playing on her cell during baseball games, flirting with other guys in front of me, disappearing during school dances for longer than it really takes to use the restroom. Yeah, there were good times, but those were early on. We’d grown apart, grown up, and changed. It wasn’t just Trish who had changed. I had, too.
I blocked the door so she wouldn’t just barge into my room. “Can I come in?” she asked.
“I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
She chewed on her bottom lip and bent her head down, gazing at me through her lashes. A few months ago, I would’ve fallen to my knees to give her what she wanted.
“Why are you here?” When she didn’t answer, I started to close the door in her face, but she caught it with her hand.
“What, did your little princess dump you already?” she sneered. I glared back. She pinched the bridge of her nose. “I’m sorry. That was uncalled for.”
“Yeah, it was.”
“Look, I need a favor.” When I didn’t bother to respond, she launched into one of her no-breathe, nonstop explanations. “I need a ride back home. I never told my parents we split, and they are expecting you to stop by, and I wish we could at least fake our way through the holiday. I promise I will tell them, but not yet, and I really, really need you to do this for me.”
I crossed my arms. “Why haven’t you told them?”
Trish huffed out a sigh. “Because I can’t stand to hear them tell me how disappointed they are. Again. You know how it is. You know how pissed Dad was when I told him I wanted to major in secondary ed. You know how furious Mom was when she…caught us fooling around in the barn. Which was my fault, of course. Everything I’ve done has been a failure in their eyes. Except you. You they love.”
Staring over her head at the door across the hall, I pretended to contemplate the idea. Trish’s parents were hard on her. Our relationship became clearer, too. She’d stayed with me because of them, not because she wanted me. It didn’t hurt anymore. That was over. It just made me sad for her. But she needed to tell her folks the truth—I couldn’t do it for her. “I’ve thought about it. Answer’s no.”
Then Bitch Trish came back with a vengeance. “After everything we’ve been through and you won’t even fake it for this weekend?”
I leaned down so we were nose-to-nose. “You were faking it for years, Trish. Maybe it’s time you stopped.”
“You son of a bitch,” she snapped, slapping me hard across the cheek.
I would never hit a woman, but it took every ounce of my control not to slap her back. Rage boiled through every pore. She stared at me, smug, knowing I wouldn’t touch her. I hated myself for wanting to wring that look off her face. I hated myself for being a colossal dick to her, too, and I struggled t
o control the wrath surging through me. My fists clenched, digging my nails into my skin, which was not an easy task, since they were bitten down to the quick. I ground my jaw tight and pressed my tongue to the roof of my mouth.
“You think you’re so fucking superior to everyone else when you’re just a scared little boy who can’t think past being exactly like his daddy.” Each word was punctuated with a finger to the chest. “Grow some balls, Aaron. You’re going to need them someday.”
She spun on her heel and stomped down the hall. I stayed in the doorway, forcing the anger out of my body using a trick, ironically, Trish had taught me when she went through a new-age kick last year.
Then I realized what she said.
Grow some balls, Aaron.
The laughter bubbled from deep in my gut until it was loud enough that a few of the guys on my floor finally looked out to see what was going on.
“You okay, Aaron?” Seth shouted from a few doors down.
That only made it worse. When I could breathe, I yelled, “Never been better.”
“Glad to hear you’ve grown some balls,” he shouted back, causing the rest of the guys to join in my hilarity. The door to the hall slammed, making us laugh harder.
“Need anything?” Seth nodded to his room. I shook my head. He’d stocked me just last week. “Let me know.”
Turning around, I let the door close with a soft click. Trish had no idea how much I had changed since she freed me. I stood up for myself. She just didn’t like that I’d done it with her. She didn’t like that she’d lost the one guy she could control, and there was no way in hell he was coming back anytime soon.
Chapter Fourteen
I drove home first thing Wednesday morning. It felt great to be behind the wheel again. I’d missed my truck. And we had two hours together. Twenty minutes after I left, my phone buzzed a text. I glanced at it, half expecting to see Chelsea’s face in a not-so-flattering photo. She’d already sent me up-to-date warnings about the family. I thanked God every day for my little sister. She kept me sane at times like Thanksgiving.
Full Count (Westland University) Page 11
