Behind the Count: Cessna U Wildcats Book Two

by Readnour, Kimberly

  “I’ll be back with a plate.” With one last stern glance toward me, Dalton exits, taking the surrounding air with him. Or that’s how it seems. The sudden stuffiness inside the room makes it hard to breathe.

  Shannon hooks the backpack over her shoulder, her cheeks still tinged pink. I need to apologize, yet again, but I can’t bring myself to. I won’t turn the act of kissing her into something bad. But I should say something to restore the balance between us. Instead, I shove my hand through my hair and remain speechless. Fuck, I don’t know what to do. If almost getting caught doesn’t serve as a warning, then, I don’t know what will. Starting anything between us is a bad idea. Shannon deserves way better. But that kiss and tasting her again makes it damn near impossible to stay away.

  “Thanks again for helping.” She stalls, and I feel like shit when I was on top of the fucking world mere minutes ago. Say something to her.

  “When I get to the dorm, I’ll work on a few more problems,” she says after my simple nod.

  “You can always FaceTime me if you need help.” Brilliant, Noah. You’re such a master of words.

  “Sure.” A flash of hurt coats her eyes before she drops her gaze. I curse to myself as she keeps her eyes trained on the floor and lets her feet carry her through the threshold.

  My head falls back on my pillow. I let out a frustrated grunt as guilt surges through me. What the fuck am I doing? I can’t keep hurting her like this. All I’m doing is confusing both of us. But I can’t slip again. We almost got caught for fuck’s sake. If that had been anyone else besides Dalton stepping through that door, I’d be screwed. If Braxton finds out, he will come unglued. I need to be more careful and keep my damn hands off of her.

  A task I’m finding impossible since I’m unable to contain my feelings around her.

  Which is crazy.

  I’ve gone the past thirteen years without acting on these lustful thoughts. Why is it so hard now? I laugh sarcastically. She’s like meth. One hit, one taste, has me begging for more. I can’t get her out of my mind. She’s all-consuming.

  Am I really comparing her to a drug? Maybe, I have lost my mind?

  Shannon’s the sweetest person I know. She always puts everyone else in front of her needs. She helped me with my ankle, and what did I do? I take advantage of her. Again. But she wants me. I can see it in her eyes. Feel it in her touch. What occurred between us wasn’t some drunken memory of me taking advantage of her vulnerability. Nope. This was way more. This was real.

  “Here’s your plate,” Dalton says as he walks into the room. His tone is short, and I can tell he’s livid by the way he tosses the plate at me.

  “What’s your problem?” The question is out before I have a chance to reel it in. I set the plate on the nightstand, no longer hungry.

  “You really need to ask?”

  Fuck! Not really.

  “Say what you want to say. By all means, don’t hold back.” We won’t get past this until he has his say, so we may as well hash it out now.

  “Okay, here goes. Rule number one: no dating teammates’ sisters. Does that rule apply to everyone else but you?” His stare penetrates through me, but I don’t say a word. I wait for him to keep going because I know he has more to add. “You specifically told me to back off. Did that entire speech only pertain to me? Like, I’m not good enough to date Braxton’s sister or some bullshit?”

  My shackles tighten at the thought of him asking Shannon out. I’d say he’s the better fit for her, but he isn’t capable of settling down if the carousel of women is anything to go by. He makes a valid point, though. I’m not good for her either.

  “No, you’re right. We’re supposed to keep our distance between teammates’ sisters.”

  “If that’s true, then, what the hell did I just walk in on? Because what I saw wasn’t casual studying. If you want to date her, fine, but man up and be honest with her. She’s too good to be used.”

  I sit straighter and resist the urge to straighten my ice pack. “I’m not using her. We’re too good of friends.”

  “Then, you’re going to start dating. Great, I’m glad to hear it. I give you my blessings.” His mocking tone doesn’t sound convincing. I let out a frustrating sigh.

  “No, we can’t date either.” But not by choice. Too many complications would occur. Shannon’s not someone you date and then turn around and break her heart. I could never do that to her. Not in a million years.

  “Then you better watch the way you look at her. That wasn’t sisterly love I walked in on.”

  I cringe at the term.

  “She’s not my sister.”

  “Yeah? Then you better tell Braxton that soon because he seems to think so.”

  I stay quiet as he leaves, my gaze dropping to the impromptu sling. The corners of my lips curve into a sad smile. Shannon has always taken care of me, and all I do is hurt her. That cycle needs to stop. But the question of how still remains.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Noah

  I’m fucked.

  Standing along the sidelines while my replacement settles into my position is the cherry to the shitastic topping. And there isn’t a damn thing I can do about it.

  A good man would be thankful his injury wasn’t worse. I never said I was good. In fact, I’m beyond frustrated. I only have myself to blame because, thanks to my instructions, Harry’s pop time has improved. Not only is he a great hitter, he’s becoming a great catcher.

  All thanks to me.

  I offer a few more movement suggestions for him, and the damn kid is like a sponge absorbing every piece of knowledge I toss his way. The entire time he’s improving, I stand here and watch. The coach wants three weeks of recovery time before I start the strength exercises. Fair enough. I don’t want to risk further injury during the season. I got lucky with the sprain being a grade one. But we’re talking another four to five weeks before I get back on the field.

  Proving myself on the field can’t come soon enough.

  My mood doesn’t improve by the time practice ends. Something the teammates pick up on right away.

  “Geren,” Wiley, our left fielder, yells as we enter the locker room. “Is your dick on the DL too?”

  “What?” I tried keeping my tone calm, but my question came across as a growl.

  “The way your attitude has been, you need to get laid. I ran into your girlfriend, Marla, and she said you’ve been turning her down. I thought she was your standard go-to fuck.”

  My jaw clenches. “She isn’t my girlfriend.”

  “Hmm, that’s not what she thinks, bro. If you’re not going to tap that, you need to find someone before your balls explode from all that tension.”

  “My balls are just fine, thank you. And regardless of who I screw, they deserve more respect than that.”

  Wiley tosses his hands up in defense. “Damn, bro, we can’t even joke with you anymore. Go get laid.”

  “Get better jokes.”

  Braxton laughs and shakes his head as he pulls his shirt over his head. I’m sure he loves the attention on someone else. Last year, he was the butt of the jokes, and believe me, the team razzed him pretty good. I never felt sorry for him. Perhaps, I should’ve.

  “You have been uptight lately. Everything okay?” Braxton asks.

  How can I tell the captain of the baseball team and my best friend since forever I want something unattainable—his sister? I can’t tell him how every time I’m around Shannon it becomes increasingly harder to keep my hands off her. How her lilac scent drives me crazy, and I want to feel her lips back on me. How I want to feel so much more of her. We’ve been studying for her next test. I wish I could push these feelings away and shelve them for a better time, but I can’t. She’s everything a person could ask for in a girl. She’s everything I want.

  “Nah, man, I’m good. Just frustrated with this bummed ankle. It’s the last thing I needed.” My gaze darts to Dalton, who’s changed into his running gear. I don’t know how the guy runs after practic
e, but he’s pretty diligent when it comes to his routine. He must sense my stare. He looks up and shoots me a look that demands me to fess up. My jaw hardens. That isn’t happening anytime soon.

  “Noah, a word.” Coach’s voice carries through the locker room.

  “I’ll be right there.” I bite back a groan. I hope he doesn’t have more bad news for me. Braxton gives me a pitiful look. He understands my predicament about playing ball and how badly I want to go pro. I’ve never voiced my dream out loud, but I never had to. We’ve played ball together since Little League. Braxton knows everything about me. Which makes hiding my feelings about Shannon trickier.

  “I’m sure it’ll be fine,” my best friend reassures.

  I shut the locker and glance over at him. “Thanks, I’ll be back.”

  Standing outside Coach’s office, I run my hand over my jaw and take a deep breath. Better get it over with now. I knock on the door.

  “Come in.”

  “You wanted to see me, Coach?”

  “I won’t take much of your time, but I wanted to say it’s honorable how you’re helping Harry.” So he can take over my position. Unbeknownst to the snark in my head, Coach continues, “He’s going to be one hell of a player with your help. Most people wouldn’t go out of their way to help a fellow teammate they view as competition.”

  And there’s the word—competition. The word sounds worse voiced out loud. My heart races as I wait for the ball to drop. Wait for him to tell me I’ve been replaced as a starter. My entire dream of playing professional ball sinks to the dark abyss.

  “Thank you, sir.” I manage to choke out.

  “This type of attitude is what coaches like to see. Being a team player is everything when it comes to sports.”

  Is it me, or did the room get smaller? I feel like I’m trapped inside a bank vault with limited oxygen. Short breaths, Noah, short breaths.

  “That’s why I wanted you to be the first to know my decision to move Harry to the varsity team. I see a lot of potential with him. The same potential I saw in you when you first joined the team.”

  I remain stoic, trying not to let any emotions show. It’s usually not hard for me. I’ve never been one to wear my emotions on my sleeve. Serious and dependable is how my friends describe me. But right now, I just want to kick and scream and demand my starting position. The compliment’s a nice touch, and I appreciate it, but it feels more like a cushion to soften his blow.

  “That would be best for the team.”

  “You’ll still be my starting catcher, but I do want to give Harry some playing time.”

  “Thanks for the heads-ups.” I swallow down my frustration at a loss as to what else to say. Coach has made up his mind, and I can’t very well prove myself with my bummed ankle.

  “Remember, teamwork will get you farther in your career than anything else.” He starts sifting through a stack of papers on his desk, and I take that as my dismissal.

  By the time I get done taking my shower, the locker room is quiet. Most teammates are gone including my ride.

  “Braxton said he’d be outside waiting for you,” one of the junior outfielders says.

  “Thanks, man.”

  The tall, gangly guy shifts his weight back and forth. His face is contorted as if he’s afraid to talk.

  “Is there something else?”

  “Um…” he presses his lips together and glances around the cleared locker room. “I’m not sure if I should be saying anything or not, but I’ve been seeing Dalton running after practice.”

  “Yeah, I know he likes to get some distance down.”

  He shifts again and looks toward the locker door. I can’t imagine why Dalton’s exercise regime has him so nervous.

  “He has company.”

  My eyebrows shoot up. By the look on this kid’s face, I can tell I’m not going to like the running mate. “Who’s running with him?”

  “Braxton’s sister.”

  I flinch. “Are you sure?”

  “Yeah, I didn’t want to say anything to Braxton but thought someone should know. He was pretty adamant about teammates keeping their hands off her.”

  Fury pours through me. “I’ll handle it.”

  He nods, and the moment he’s gone, I whip my phone out to call her. It’s bad enough she’s with Dalton, but she shouldn’t be running.

  “Damn it!” I slam the phone back into my pocket when her voicemail picks up. Our discussion will have to wait until tonight at our tutoring session.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Shannon

  Sunshine stretches across the track on another beautiful, cloudless day and serves to deepen my already darkened mood. Give me dark and dreary over this crap that screams, “It’s good to be alive!” I don’t want to pretend to be cheery when frustration laces every facet of my body. And the whole source for my shitty mood? That’s easy—Noah.

  After another toe-curling kiss, I get absolutely nothing from Noah. He went back into his shell when it comes to me. He’s beyond frustrating. We’ve had one tutoring session since the night in his bedroom, and he barely looked at me. I specifically wore a cute formfitting shirt and paired it with the shortest shorts I own, and nothing. Not even a side glance. Situations like this are where a low-cut top would do the trick. Too bad I don’t feel comfortable wearing V-cut necklines. Maybe a flash of my boobs would entice him.

  Or maybe, he grazed the edge of my scar when he felt me up last time and was repulsed. I close my eyes, wishing those thoughts would go away.

  Noah’s rejection isn’t the only reason for my foul mood. Nope, but he would be the underlying cause for dealing with Marla in design class. Ever since the day she confronted me, I made it my goal to arrive to class early. Seat stealer hasn’t had a chance at nabbing my chair. My tactic has worked until Todd failed to show up and left his seat empty. Just my luck, Marla happened to nab the seat before seat stealer had the chance. Her presence alone makes me jittery. She’s a constant reminder of what Noah wants and everything I can’t be. I want to hate her, but my self-esteem issues aren’t her problem. They’re mine.

  Training for this 5K will help prove to myself I’m not weak. My heart is strong. And my goals are obtainable. I’ve got this.

  I’m in the middle of a leg stretch when Dalton approaches, eyeing me. It’s the first time we’ve talked since the night he walked in on Noah and me. I give a weak “Hey.”

  “How are you feeling?”

  “Fine.” My defensive tone causes his eyebrow to quirk, and I want to kick myself. All these thoughts about my body have me on edge. Dalton wasn’t insinuating anything about my heart. He’s referring to the other night. He doesn’t know anything about my past medical history, and I have no plans to tell him. Otherwise, he’ll turn into everyone else in my life and baby me. It’s kind of nice having someone not know. I clear my throat. “Sorry, I’m just ready to hit the cinders. It’s been a shitty day.”

  He nods and stretches into a hamstring sweep. My stomach growls as I move to stretch my quads.

  “You hungry?” he asks.

  A little. I had to skip lunch. By the time I got out of class, I had run out of time. “No, I’m fine. I didn’t want to eat right before running.” I shake my water bottle. “I have my water this time.”

  “I’m glad. It’s important to stay hydrated.” He laughs. Last time we ran, I came unprepared. He scolded me, but it was all in fun.

  “Yeah, yeah, yeah. I learned my lesson.”

  We head over to the track and start out at a slow pace. We’re halfway around the first curve when Dalton gets that stoic face he wears so well. I’ve deducted he gets that look when he wants to say something but thinks better of it.

  “So, what did I walk in on the other night?” Dalton asks, curiosity winning the battle of should I or should I not ask. My face flames. I like it better when he keeps to himself.

  “I don’t want to talk about it.”

  He gives me a side glance. “I know you three have a long hi
story, but you better tread carefully.”

  I don’t miss the fact he included Braxton in the equation, a subtle warning that my brother would never approve. But I don’t care what Braxton thinks. He doesn’t dictate who I can be with any more than he can dictate my physical activity. Dalton wouldn’t be here with me otherwise.

  “It’s nothing. I assure you.” But I plan on changing that the next time I see Noah. No more of him pretending nothing exists between us. He kissed me. Twice. There is more between us than a simple attraction. I just need to make him realize this.

  “Fine, as long as you know what you’re doing. I’m not going to lecture you. You have enough of those people in your life.”

  “Don’t I know it.” Our pace increases as we make our way around the track. “What about you? Any specific girl on the radar?”

  “Not here.” His murmur is so low I almost miss it.

  “So, there’s someone then?” I press. Dalton’s never talked about any exes. Hell, he never talks about his home life, period.

  His face goes stoic as a resemblance of sadness flashes in his eyes. But the hard “No” that comes from his mouth has me flinching.

  “Let’s sprint the rest of the way.”

  Message received. Past lovers off the table. I nod, and we take off. A sharp pain flashes across my chest, but I ignore it and press forward. My pulse, although fast, feels fine.

  * * *

  “You’re making great progress,” Dalton says as we slow down to a halt. “We’ll up the distance another mile in a couple more weeks.”

  “Sounds great.” I check my pulse. Once I confirm the elevation is within range and steady, I wipe off the sweat beading across my forehead. I’m getting closer to my goal. “I can’t thank you enough for doing this for me.”

  “What are friends for.” He shrugs. “It’s worth pissing my teammates off.”

  “What do you mean?” The last thing I want is for him to be on the losing end.