Out of Bounds (Reedsville Roosters #5)

by Holley Trent

He slumped into the seat behind the driver and dragged a hand through his hair.

  There was no way in hell he could do it on his own. Not unless he went back on his meds.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  Lo couldn’t help but note that as Dean stuffed his laundry into his bag, Gary was uncharacteristically quiet. He was answering questions in terse monosyllables and barely making eye contact. His behavior seemed far too indicative of guilt, in her opinion, and she had no idea what he might have done to trigger it.

  When Dean had stepped into the bathroom and closed the door, Lo settled next to Gary at the end of the bed and gave him a nudge. “You’ve got the room to yourself as of tomorrow. I’m sure Wallace will be happy not to have to see us anymore.”

  Gary bobbed his eyebrows and let out a breath.

  “No snarky retort? No shit-talking?”

  “Huh?”

  “What’s wrong, Gary?”

  “Nothin’.”

  “Bullshit. You’ve said maybe ten words in an hour, and most of them have been ‘huh.’”

  “Sorry.” He closed his eyes and shook his head. “Sorry. I’m just distracted as hell.”

  “What are you thinking about so intensely?”

  He furrowed his brow and leaned back onto his forearms. “Was this going to work?”

  “What?”

  “This. Us, I mean. Was it going to work?”

  “What kind of question is that?”

  “A serious one for a change.”

  “What makes you ask that now?”

  He shrugged. “I’ve just been giving a lot of things some thought. People keep telling me I have to grow up some day, and I wonder if that day is today.”

  “What does you growing up have to do with anything?”

  “Maybe you were right that I get attached to people only because they’re nice to me, and that’s not fair to them. I shouldn’t cling to people that way. I should be trying to have mutually beneficial relationships that everyone gets something out of.”

  “Why are you bringing this up?”

  “Lo, I can’t…I don’t want to do this to you. I’m flighty and fickle and I get fixated on things, even when I shouldn’t have them. I’m immature that way, and that’s not fair to you and Dean.”

  “I feel like we’ve already had this discussion. Do you think I’ve forgotten already how you are?”

  “You shouldn’t have to be parenting me. I should be taking steps to be functional on my own.”

  “What is this about, Gary? Really? Have you suddenly decided that you don’t like us after all? Has someone prettier crossed your path? Someone who smiled at you, and you decided you like them more?”

  “No!” Gary pounded the bed and stood quickly. “I just…I can’t do this to you. I don’t want you to feel obligated to include me in your relationship when I’m just going to foul things up. Right now, you’re tolerating me, but there’ll come a point where you don’t like me and you’ll want me to go, and I want to go ahead and nip that in the bud now. I’m not going to be a wedge between you and Dean. I don’t want you two arguing about me all the time or thinking that getting involved with me was a mistake.”

  Dean stepped out of the bathroom, drying his hands on a towel. “What’s going on in here?’

  Lo threw her hands up and shook her head. “Gary’s having a meltdown.”

  “I am not having a fucking meltdown,” Gary said. “I’m breaking up with you.”

  Dean opened his mouth as if to speak, but closed it without releasing the words.

  “Why?” Lo asked. “Tell us why you’re behaving this way after we promised we’d do everything we could to accommodate you—after we promised we’d fit you in and make you feel at home.”

  “That’s not your job.”

  “Who said anything about it being a fucking job?” Dean asked.

  Lo so rarely heard her husband yell that she didn’t initially recognize that the words belonged to him.

  She was suddenly more pissed simply for the fact that he was so pissed. If she’d been a violent sort, she would have smacked Gary.

  Gary shifted his weight and ran both hands through his hair. “Just…I don’t know. Maybe you should go. No, you’re going already. You’re leaving. You’re going home in the morning. I’ll just…bunk with Marcus tonight. That’ll be okay.”

  He nodded with finality and grabbed one of the keys off the dresser. “Yeah. Marcus’ll…Marcus is there.”

  He left the room without another word, and Lo stared at the closed door for a while.

  Then she looked at Dean.

  “I don’t know, Lo,” he said preemptively. “And there’s no point trying to get him to make sense. He’ll either tell us or he won’t.”

  “Why doesn’t he trust us enough to tell us?”

  “I don’t think this is about trusting us. It’s about trusting himself, and there’s nothing we can do for that. All we can do is wait.”

  “Why would he do that to us now?”

  “I don’t know. Nobody really understands the human brain all that well.” He pulled her into his arms and kissed the top of her head, and she clung to him as she always did.

  Dean was a sure bet. Always had been. Gary was just a distraction. He didn’t mean anything and she wasn’t going lose any sleep over his odd change of heart.

  “Don’t even try to understand. He’ll come around,” Dean said.

  “What if he doesn’t?”

  Dean didn’t respond.

  ___

  Lo, lounging in the shade of the Morstad home’s back patio several weeks later, sat very still and hoped Clint—who was walking past with his suitcases—didn’t see her.

  No such luck.

  He squinted at her. “If you’re trying to hide, you’re not doing a great job.”

  She squinted back, but he probably couldn’t tell. She’d worn her darkest sunglasses and the brim of her hat was likely providing quite a bit of shadow to her face, too. In her opinion, the concealment was a good thing. She’d been losing sleep over the auburn asshole, and had the bags under her eyes to prove it.

  “How long have you been sitting out here?” he asked.

  Lo took off her sunglasses. “Alone for five minutes,” she said. “Olivia took Sidney inside to change her diaper.” Lo had the day off, and when Dean was at work, their house was too damned quiet. She’d taken Olivia up on her open invitation to visit whenever she liked.

  Clint nodded. “I just got back from the airport. I usually come in through the back door so I can ditch all my gear in the sunroom. How’s Olivia?”

  “Barfy.”

  He groaned. “Maybe the nausea won’t be as bad as it was with Sidney. She had her head over a toilet for three months.”

  “She’s optimistic in spite of all the throwing up. She says barfing means progress.”

  “That sounds like something she’d say. Have you spoken to Gary?”

  “Excuse the hell out of you for that rapid subject change, and why would I have spoken to Gary?”

  “Come on. Don’t give me that.”

  “I have no idea what you mean.”

  “Really? So, you don’t know anything about all the frantic phone calls he made to me while I was in Germany about how to get a psych referral on his new insurance?”

  “What?”

  “Or about whether I could ask my old agent to go to bat for him?”

  “I have no idea what you’re talking about.” She pushed the brim of her hat back so Clint could see her eyes. “And why would he need a psych referral?”

  “You really don’t know anything?”

  “I don’t understand why you assume I would.”

  “Don’t give me that, Lorena. There’s always one person in Gary’s life who knows everything he’s up to, and that person is me. I may not always be able to help him, but I know what he’s doing, and I know that something happened with you, him, and Dean.”

  Lorena slumped against the lounger cushion and put her su
nglasses on again. “Obviously nothing important.”

  “Very important if he was the one to do the running. I don’t know if you guessed this about Gary, but as social as he is, he’s not good at relationships. Mostly, he doesn’t try because people so rarely click with him.”

  “What are you telling me, Clint?”

  “That I think he’s trying to do the right thing, but maybe he’s going about it the wrong way.”

  “You’re not giving me enough information. Rewind.”

  “Okay. Hold on. Let me put my bags in the house and give my ladies kisses. I’ll be back in a few.”

  While Lo waited, she worried. She’d said so many nasty things out of anger to Gary before leaving Florida, because burning bridges was just her nature when she was pissed. She rarely gave people second chances because she believed in letting them show their true colors the first time.

  “That’s not fair,” Dean had told her, and she knew it had taken a lot for him to tell her that she was wrong. He was so rarely contrary, but even then, she hadn’t wanted to believe him. She’d wanted to cling to her anger and indignation, even if the emotions weren’t doing anything useful for her.

  Tell me I wasn’t hasty.

  Olivia returned with Clint on her heels.

  He slid the screen door shut and had a seat on the lounger next to Lo’s. For a minute, he smoothed down Sidney’s hair and bounced her gently on his lip, and then he said, “He’s…medicating again.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “To not be medicated was a choice he’d been fighting for since high school. If he’s not medicated, he’s scattered and can’t make decisions efficiently.”

  “But if he’s taking something,” Olivia said, “he’s…” She shook her head and cringed. “I’ve only seen him on meds briefly one other time before now, and he just seems to…take up so much less space when he’s on them. I don’t know if that makes sense.”

  “I get what you mean,” Clint said.

  “I don’t,” Lo said. “Please explain.”

  “Gary’s that guy that if there’s a possible rare side effect to a drug, he’ll have it. Unlucky that way. The drugs that are okay for him make him kind of flat, I guess.”

  “Flat?”

  “Yeah. Less impulsive, but also less funny. Takes fewer risks, but somewhat to an extreme. We’re not the only ones noticing these things about him. He senses the differences, too. He feels different. He doesn’t consider himself to be the same person, which is ridiculous, if you think about it, but I can understand why he’d say that.”

  “Why would he do that? Resort to medicating, I mean, if he was doing okay without them.”

  “Okay is subjective,” Olivia said. “He was making positive changes in his life thanks to you and Dean, but no twenty-five-year-old guy wants to feel like his lovers are babysitting him.”

  “It wasn’t like that. Didn’t seem like that to me, anyway. Does Gary need special handling?” Lo laughed. “Yeah. Hell yeah. But I thought that between me and Dean, we had him covered.”

  “He’s used to people making him feel like a burden,” Clint said, “and he wanted to do this on his own.”

  “Do what?”

  “He got pulled up. He’s working out with the team in Philly now. A couple of his buddies from the Roosters are supposed to be following at the end of the season, but Gary felt the best thing for him would be to try to handle the transition on his own.”

  “In spite of the consequences,” Lo said through clenched teeth.

  “Maybe the most noble thing he’s ever done.”

  “He’s an idiot.”

  “I won’t argue that,” Clint said. “But at least he’s thinking like an adult. That’s more than I can say for where he was a few years ago.”

  “But what am I supposed to do with that information? He moved on, so now what? I’m not chasing him only for him to flake on us again. I don’t want to keep investing my energy on a relationship that’s not going to pan out.”

  “You don’t have to chase him,” Olivia said. “He’s not really running. He’s sort of standing in the same spot, waiting for the world to go by around him before he starts moving again.”

  “So, what? Tie a rope to him and drag him on behind me?”

  “That’s pretty much what you have to do with a guy like Gary,” Clint said. “At least with him, you know he’ll go along with a smile on his face. Just leave everything to me. If you and Dean are game, I’ll arrange everything so you can pull him back out of his shell.”

  “Oh boy,” Olivia muttered. “You’re scary when you’re plotting.”

  “Morstad gets shit done, princess. Never forget.”

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  Gary grabbed the handset of the ringing phone from the nightstand and pulled it under the pillow and onto his ear.

  “What?” he answered groggily. He hadn’t slept worth a shit and had finally nodded off just before the phone rang.

  “Mr. Morstad?”

  “What?”

  “This is Brynn at the front desk. I’m sorry if I woke you, but your reservation has been altered, and I wanted to let you know so you’d have a chance to pack up before checkout time.”

  Gary knocked the pillow off his head and pushed slowly up onto his forearms. He blinked several times to clear the haze in his vision and then cleared his throat. “What do you mean that my reservation has been altered?”

  “Well, originally, the booking was supposed to be held open until further notice, but I have a note here in your record that your agent had you moved into other lodging.”

  “What do you mean, my agent? I don’t have an agent.”

  “That’s what the note says. Sorry, I don’t have any other information beyond that. If it would help at all, I can push back your checkout time until noon.”

  “Sorry to be asking so many questions, but what time is it?”

  “Seven.”

  “Shit.”

  “I do apologize. I figured I’d wake you in time for breakfast since I had to call anyway.”

  “Don’t worry. I’ll be out on time.”

  He tossed the phone on the cradle, and then scratched his head.

  He thought someone had to be fucking with him. He didn’t have an agent. He’d pulled Clint’s old agent out of retirement and the man had done a very superficial vetting of his new contract, which only meant the terms didn’t completely suck. There were no bells or whistles, which was fine, because the period the document covered was so short. Gary needed to renegotiate the contract at the end of the season once all parties involved determined the relationship was a fruitful one.

  Gary wasn’t so sure yet. The pay was nicer than what he’d earned from the Roosters. The roof over his head was nicer. The guys in the dugout were less dramatic. Something just seemed to be missing. The fun or…

  He really couldn’t put a finger on what was wrong.

  He swished some Listerine around his mouth as he pulled on sweatpants and a shirt that looked clean enough, grabbed a key, and shuffled downstairs to the dining room.

  In spite of the fact that his medication significantly suppressed his appetite, he had to try hard to get food in his system or he wouldn’t be able to do shit on the field.

  “Just chew and swallow. Doesn’t matter what the food is,” he muttered as the elevator dinged and doors opened.

  He stepped out onto the first floor only to stop dead in his tracks.

  Lo sat on the padded bench in front of the doors with her hair pulled back in a bun and dressed all in black, down to her sparkly flip-flops.

  “Lo?”

  “Do I look the part?” she asked.

  Lo’s here. Why’s Lo here?

  “Do I look like agent material?” she stood and heaved her big leather tote back up onto her shoulder.

  “You’re my agent?”

  “Yep. Not what I wanted to be when I grew up, but the job’s not bad for a part-time gig. All those pre-law classes I took in c
ollege turned out to be good for something.”

  “Aren’t I supposed to sign an agent contract or something before you can do stuff for me?”

  “You know, you’re asking all the wrong questions.”

  “Shit. Yeah, I am.” Lo’s here. He swallowed. Stared at her, because she was there and he realized she was one of the things that had been missing.

  She shrugged. “But to answer your question, Clint forged it for you. We’ll work out something legit later. And you owe me for what I spent on certification, by the way. Come on.” She canted her head toward the dining room. “I was wondering if they were going to remind you about breakfast. Gold star for them.”

  “Where did you move me to?”

  “Found you an apartment near the ballpark. Took me half of yesterday to find something reasonable that wasn’t also reasonably run down.” She set her bag down at the chair of an empty table. “Have a seat. I’ll be right back. I’m going to get coffee. Want some?”

  “Sure. I could use the perk-up.”

  “Yeah, you could,” she said quietly.

  She was back from the coffee kiosk even before waitress turned up to bring plates and to log his room number.

  “What are you doing here?” he asked.

  “I thought I already explained that.”

  “Seriously, Lo?”

  “Did you have someone better in mind for the job?”

  “But you already have a job. Shouldn’t you be there right now?”

  “You made me sick.” She affected a cough. “See. Really sick.”

  That meant she was risking her job to be there—for him. He doubted that any doctor worth his license was going to sign off on a medical excuse form for her.

  “Where’s Dean?” he whispered, but there was really no need to. There was no one sitting near enough to hear him speaking at his normal volume.

  “He’s at work.”

  “Right. I forgot he works for a living.”

  “He might be able to come up this weekend if the garage doesn’t get backed up on Thursday night. Brent will let him leave early on Friday.”

  “Oh.” Hope so. Gary didn’t have anyone to talk to anymore.

  “How are you?”

  Gary shrugged.

  “Don’t give me that.”