Something Lovely

by Brooke St. James

  I read the words on the entry.

  Derek Holbrook

  Baseball second baseman

  Derek Alexander Holbrook is an American professional baseball second baseman for the Cleveland Indians of Major League Baseball.

  Spouse: Unmarried

  Salary: 14 million (USD)

  I sighed, and clicked on the icon at the top of the screen that said "images". The photos that came up were more than just mug shots in his baseball cap. There were so many pictures of him. Some of him swinging a bat, some of him making plays in the field, some laughing and high-fiving his teammates.

  I smiled and took a deep breath as I looked at them, thanking God that I had this resource to go to. I reminded myself how very fortunate I was to be the girlfriend of this man. I reminded myself that I had a crush on him for years, and that I would be a fool to look at anyone else.

  I don't know what I was thinking getting butterflies with Luke. I wasn't thinking. It was just something that happened. It was uncontrollable.

  There was only one thing to do. I had to abstain from physical contact with him. No more letting him help me up off the couch, and definitely no more hugging. I would do the right thing and control my wandering eyes, that's all there was to it.

  I went to bed that night, feeling thoroughly repentant and free of any guilt.

  Tomorrow was a new day—one where I would think of Luke Wright as nothing more than a friend, nothing more than Jolene's brother.

  Chapter 8

  Luke

  Luke Wright could, one hundred percent, understand why his sister had married Wes Bishop and picked up her life to move to Memphis with his family.

  He would have done the same thing if their roles were reversed. After only five days of staying at Jesse and Rose Bishop's house, he realized just how special their family was.

  He had heard the phrase "family first" before, but the Bishops gave new meaning to it. They were the epitome of a strong, supportive family. They had each other's backs no matter what. In the last five days, he had been in awe of the way they interacted with each other. They played games, threw knives, rode motorcycles, sang songs, talked, ate meals, laughed, and just flat out enjoyed each other's presence.

  They were in no hurry to run off and obtain other things because they already had everything they needed. It was like they had something simple but profound figured out—like you could just choose to be happy and content, and therefore you were happy and content.

  That's not to say that they didn't have trials, because they did. Luke heard them talking about some drama with Darcy's parents who were now deceased. Apparently, her late father had been into real estate and that's how she and Owen owned the house where Wes and Jolene were living. They didn't go into anything in detail, but Luke gathered that there had been some bad blood with Owen and Darcy's late father.

  Even when the less-than-perfect subject was brought up, they were all still so positive and upbeat. Luke's parents were like this in many ways, but the Bishops took it to another level. Maybe it was because there were so many of them that it seemed especially impressive. It just felt good to hang around so many positive people. If there had been an eligible Bishop for Luke to marry, he would have done it himself, complete with the move to Memphis and everything.

  Who was he kidding? It wasn't just any Bishop he wished was eligible. It was Ivy. Beautiful, sweet Ivy. He loved everything about her. He loved watching her get in trouble by saying exactly what was on her mind. He loved watching her blush, and laugh, and cut up with her brothers and their wives and children. If things were different, Luke would have had it bad for Ivy. If they were both single, he would have looked at Ivy in a totally different way.

  They had spent a lot of time together in the last five days—had gotten to know each other as friends. From what she said, she usually spent most of her free time with Derek, but this week had been different. Wes was just moving home, and there was company in the house, which meant there were a few big, family dinners. Derek came to most of them, but instead of leaving and going to his house or going out afterward like they normally did, Derek left by himself, and Ivy stayed and hung out with family.

  Luke was happy she made that choice because she was a bright light—like a ray of sunshine. She never met a stranger. She had tons of friends, many of whom she spoke about, and a few whom Luke had met during his stay.

  Luke was thinking about Ivy because he wanted to see her. He and his parents would be heading to the airport within the hour, and he hated to leave without telling her goodbye.

  He was a little concerned because the evening before, Ivy had mentioned wanting to go for a ride after dinner, but instead, she left the house without a word to anybody. He had seen her drive away, and he remembered the look on her face. She didn't look happy. He heard her parents speculating on her whereabouts, but it was really none of his business, so he tried not to seem too interested.

  He went to bed at midnight, and Ivy still wasn't home. She was home that morning when he woke up. He saw her car in the driveway and noticed that her bedroom door was closed, but he hadn't seen her at all.

  They had just finished eating lunch and were still all in the kitchen area when his mom asked Rose about Ivy. He listened to their conversation.

  "I hope we get to tell sweet Ivy 'goodbye' before we go," Ginger said.

  "I'm sure you will," Rose said. "She's not feeling her best this morning, but I'm sure she'll come out to see you guys off."

  "Oh, I'm sorry to hear that," Ginger said. "She doesn't have to come out. Just tell her how much we enjoyed getting to know her this week."

  "I will," Rose said. "But I'll go in there in a little bit and see if she feels up to coming out here to tell y'all goodbye."

  The women moved on to other subjects like Wes and Jolene and the fact that Ginger was so happy and thankful that her daughter was being so well taken care of.

  It was difficult for Luke to concentrate on anything but the fact that Ivy was ill. He wondered what had made her sick and thought about the flu or food poisoning. Surely there was something he could do to bring her some comfort. He headed toward the hall, trying to talk himself out of knocking on her door.

  Jesse Bishop was coming out of Ivy's room as Luke entered the hallway. Their eyes met and Luke gave the man a casual nod as if he had been planning on going to his own room. Jesse smiled and nodded back, but his smile was forced and laced with worry or disappointment.

  This caused Luke to worry instantly. He almost said, "Is she okay?" his mouth was open and he was poised to let the words come out, but then he noticed that Jesse had left the door of her room cracked open. Luke made the split-second decision that rather than ask, he would just see for himself.

  He stepped into the bedroom across the hall while Jesse disappeared, but once the coast was clear, he made his way into the hall again. He used a knuckle and tapped on Ivy's door a few times.

  Nothing.

  He thought her heard her voice, and he put his ear to the crack in the door.

  "Ivy?" he said with his ear to the door.

  He heard her voice responding, but he couldn't tell what she had said.

  "Ivy?" He pushed the door a little more, and peered inside, expecting to see her sprawled out on her bed.

  Her bed was empty. It was a mess, like she had been in it and had just gotten out, but it was empty nonetheless.

  "Ivy?" he said, peeking into her room.

  "Hello?" she said.

  "Hey, where are you?" he asked quietly, stepping into her room.

  There was some kind of noise happening—maybe a fan or some kind of white noise machine that just sounded like a fan.

  "Because I didn't feel like talking, that's why." she said in a frustrated tone.

  Her voice was high pitched like a whimper, and the words she said didn't make any sense to him. She took in several gasping breaths—hitching breaths, as if she was crying.

  "No, Kade, you can't come over," she said.
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  Luke had already come into her room, but he stopped in his tracks when he realized she wasn't talking to him. He took a step back in an effort to quietly retreat, but he saw movement on the other side of her bed, and he froze. He saw her hand come up and then go down again like she was running it through her hair. She was sitting on the floor, facing the other direction. The shades were drawn, making it dark in there for mid-day—certainly darker than the rest of the house. The only light coming in was through the cracks in the blinds.

  "You can't come over. We've still got people over here. And I don't feel like talking, anyway. I just picked up because I wanted to talk to you before… before Britney did."

  Again, she took in a deep, shuttering breath making it obvious that she was crying.

  "I can't even say her name, Kade. I can't believe what she did. She's been my best friend since… hang on…"

  She trailed off, letting out a long, wheezing cry followed by several gasps. Her voice was weak and vulnerable. Luke knew he should walk out. He knew he should leave, but he was paralyzed, stunned, he felt like his feet were stuck to the floor. He had to know what Britney had done—what it was that was making Ivy so upset. He felt red-hot anger at the sound of her pitiful voice.

  "She did!" Ivy said. "She told me. That's how I know. She called me yesterday and said she couldn't live with the guilt." (gasp, gasp, gasp) "She said it just happened. She said they were drinking and that it just happened without her really even knowing what was going on, can you believe that? I told her that doesn't just happen. You have to let it happen. You have to want it to happen."

  She paused, and Luke knew the person on the other end was speaking.

  "She cried and apologized," Ivy said. "She said she'd never intentionally do anything to hurt me and begged me to forgive her. She bawled her eyes out like she expected me to feel bad for her. "

  Another long pause.

  "Two nights ago. After we had dinner at Shug's. Derek was having some friends over afterward, and I guess… she… went… over… there."

  She gasped again, several times.

  Luke closed his eyes and clinched his fists, feeling like he wanted to hurt someone—specifically Derek Holbrook.

  "No, I haven't told my dad. He would want to hurt him. He just came in here, and I told them I was sick."

  There was more gasping, followed by a deep, calming breath as if she was trying to make herself quit crying.

  "Yeah, I went over there last night," she said. "He begged me to forgive him. He said everyone was drinking and Britney just threw herself at him. He said she said things like… hang on… I really can't believe I'm about to repeat this. He said she kept saying that all these years, she's had to s-sit back and watch while I… got…everything. She said it was her… t-turn… now."

  She let out another long, wheezing sob followed by a long pause.

  "No," she said, finally. "If we were sleeping together, it never would have happened. Derek said that's why he was weak when she threw herself at him."

  (A pause.)

  "He begged me to forgive him."

  (Another pause.)

  "I want to. I mean, from what he said, Britney basically forced him to do it."

  (Pause.)

  "I know it takes two, Kade, but he swore it would never happen again. He promised on his career."

  (Pause.)

  "No," she said bluntly. "I never want to see or talk to her again. I almost want to get a new phone number. She's blowing up my text. I haven't talked to her since I talked to Derek. She doesn't know I know all that about her saying she had to watch… me… whatever. I'm not talking to her. I'm not friends with her anymore."

  (Pause.)

  "I don't know," Ivy said. "I haven't decided about Derek. Part of me wants to forgive him because I know it's all her fault. When I left his house last night, I told him I needed time to think. He's begging to come over here, but I can't handle that drama right now. We've still got people at our house, and my parents are here. I'm gonna have to wait until I can get myself together enough to go over there. I can't think straight right now."

  (Pause.)

  "I don't really care. That's on you if you want to be friends with her, but I'm done. I've been up all night, and I feel like crap. I can't even believe she told me it happened. Part of me wishes she would've just kept it from me. I feel like she just wanted me to find out so we'd break up."

  Ivy took another unsteady breath, but this time, she shifted. Luke could see the top of her head move, and he assumed she was about to get up.

  He took two silent steps, making his way out of her room and into the hallway, leaving the door open so she wouldn't notice the movement.

  He absolutely hated knowing Ivy was in pain.

  He felt like he had to do something.

  Chapter 9

  I had been up all night, crying.

  Betrayal was a bitter pill to swallow, and all night, I had tossed and turned in my bed, wrestling with anger and embarrassment. I imagined them together—my boyfriend and my best friend doing things that even he and I hadn't done. I had spent so many hours with him during the last few months, and now Britney knew him intimately. It was the worst thing I could possibly imagine her doing, and she did it.

  What made it even harder was that she threw herself at him. It wasn't like he tricked her into doing it. The opposite was true. Derek said she basically gave him no choice. He said he didn't even enjoy it—hated himself over it.

  All night, I replayed my conversation with Britney—the one where she came to me in tears needing to tell me the truth. I thought of the conversation that followed—the one I had with Derek—the one where he told me the whole story, the way it really happened. He begged me to forgive him, told me he loved me, and swore on his life it would never happen again.

  All night, I replayed those conversations and then I imagined the two of them together. Anger and jealousy had stolen my sleep, and now I found myself delirious, heartbroken, lovesick, and pretty much sick in general.

  I honestly didn't know how to go on with my life. I felt like I had been broken into a thousand pieces and it was simply impossible for me to get put back together the same way I was before—like I would somehow forever be changed by this.

  I was utterly devastated at the thought of losing my best friend and a boyfriend in one fell swoop. I was so mad at Britney that I almost wanted to forgive Derek just so she had no chance of being with him.

  My feelings were all over the map.

  Constant texts bombarded my phone from both of them, begging me for forgiveness. I really didn't want to talk about it, but all the pent-up emotions were just eating away at me, so I broke down the following day and told Kade. He said that I should take a day or two to think about it before I went running back to Derek.

  I really didn't want his advice. I only called him so that he would take my side in cutting ties with Britney. He said she was a terrible person for doing something like that, but unfortunately, his statement didn't make me feel any better. I hung up the phone with him, feeling guilty and embarrassed for having told him in the first place.

  Horrible.

  Terrible.

  Ridiculously bad.

  That's how I felt.

  I wanted to crawl under a rock and never come out. My mom came into my room to try to get me to go out and tell the Wrights goodbye, but I knew my face was red and my eyes were swollen, so I told her I was just too sick to get out of bed.

  I stayed on the edge of my bed, staring at the wall and feeling broken. I hadn't even noticed that my mom had left my bedroom door open until someone knocked on it. I turned and glanced in that direction, noticing that someone was there.

  It was Luke. He was standing in the doorway, but he was staring downward where all I could see was his profile. He was giving me privacy until I invited him in.

  It broke my heart to see him waiting there.

  I had enjoyed getting to know him, and I wanted to be able to give h
im a sincere farewell, but I was simply incapable of doing that. I was currently out of commission as a human being.

  I grabbed the pillow that was next to me, and covered my face with it. "Come in," I said, in a muffled tone.

  I heard him crossing the room, and the next thing I knew, he was sitting on the very edge of the bed, right next to me. I couldn't see his face, but I saw his body through a crack under the pillow.

  "Are you okay?" he asked.

  "Yeah," I said, trying my best to sound 'okay'.

  "Why do you have your face covered?"

  "Because I have a bad headache."

  There was a long pause, followed by a sigh. "We're leaving," he said.

  "I know. I'm sorry. I'm sick. I had a lot of fun with you this week. I'm glad you came."

  "I had fun too," he said.

  He sighed again, and I felt his hand touch my arm. I glanced down at it, feeling tears sting my eyes at the embarrassment of having to sit there with my face covered. I seriously hated Britney for bringing me to this.

  "You're gonna be okay, Ivy," Luke said. "This, too, soon shall pass."

  "I know. I'm just sick."

  "Okay, well they're waiting on me out there, so…" he trailed off, hesitating.

  "Okay," I said. "I'm glad you came. Tell your parents it was really nice meeting them."

  Luke didn't respond to my statement. He just picked up my hand and gave it a squeeze. I didn't know what he was doing at first. I felt him grab my hand and bring it upward and then I felt a warm squeeze—like he was hugging me with just our hands. My gut clinched at the feel of it. He only meant it to comfort me, but I was already on edge, and the physical contact caused a wave of emotion to hit me. Just as soon as he squeezed me, however, he set my arm down, resting it in the same position it was in before.

  "Can I see your face before I go?" he asked quietly.

  I lifted the pillow that was covering my face. I wanted to look at him, but I couldn't bring myself to do it. I kept my eyes closed, knowing he was staring down at me. I felt his hand touch the side of my face, and I just stayed there, completely still. His fingertip (or his thumb, I couldn't tell) lightly touched my tearstained cheek.