by Terri Osburn
Though I’d said I was fine, I was not looking forward to running through a rain shower on my injured leg. Walking was one thing. The force of my foot hitting the ground at a full run was something else. This was going to hurt like hell.
Ryan tossed his glove into his bag, and then threw mine and his over his shoulders. “You ready?”
I was going to have to be. Rising, I put my weight on my right foot and gasped from the pain. Clutching his arm, I balanced on one leg, waiting for the stars to clear. The rain grew heavier and I took a deep breath as I tried again. This time the ache was manageable so I nodded.
“Let’s go.”
We left the dugout at a run, and within ten feet I had to stop. I’d just have to walk. I was already wet so what was the difference now?
“You go on,” I said, reaching for him to give me my bag. “There’s no reason we both have to get soaked.”
Shaking his head, Ryan ignored my order. “Not a chance.”
Without warning, he swept me off my feet—literally—and started running once again.
“What are you doing?” I yelled, holding the ball cap on my head with one hand while clinging to his neck with the other.
He didn’t answer, which I supposed was fair considering this feat was likely taking all the air he had. I may have been short but that didn’t mean I was light.
“Give me the bags,” Dalton said, coming from the parking lot to offer assistance.
Ryan slowed to a jog and the two men managed the handoff without the need to put me on my feet. Any woman who entertained the damsel in distress fantasy had no idea how humiliating the reality really was. I’d have fought harder to end the embarrassment, but we were almost to my car, and the memory of how badly it had hurt to run on my own was still fresh in my mind.
“Where are your keys?” Ryan asked, out of breath as we approached my Civic.
“In the front pocket of my gear bag,” I answered.
“Front pocket!” he yelled to Dalton, who had the keys in hand and my doors unlocked seconds later. In true hero fashion, Ryan lowered me into the driver’s seat as Dalton tossed my equipment on the back seat.
“You’re sure you can drive?” he asked.
Nodding, I said, “Just go. You’re already drenched.”
To my surprise, he pressed a kiss to my forehead before closing the door and darting off. Dalton had disappeared—I feared with my keys—but they were hanging in the ignition. When had he managed that? The engine hummed to life and I cranked the heater as my teeth chattered. Water ran down my spine and my clothes felt heavy. Letting the car warm up, I pressed the gas pedal and was relieved to find the move only mildly painful.
With luck, this storm would blow over by the time I got home, but then taking my time getting into the apartment wouldn’t make a difference now. I couldn’t have gotten any wetter than I already was.
Chapter Fifteen
By Wednesday afternoon, Cassie had not returned to the library. I was starting to lose hope that she ever would. Part of me said this was for the best. Neither of our lives would be turned upside down if I never saw her again. I would go back to being the only child I’d always believed myself to be, and Cassie would never know the person her mother truly was.
But another part—a much louder one—said there was no way I could forget what I’d learned. How could I go on with my life knowing these two people shared half of my DNA, and yet, I would never meet them? And how far would I go to find them? If I did contact Geraldine, as Ryan had suggested, I had no doubt she’d run interference in any way necessary in order to keep her secret. To keep me a secret.
Over the years, I’d come to terms with the idea that Geraldine had simply not been cut out for motherhood. I could never forgive her, but I’d stopped taking her leaving personally. I’d convinced myself that she’d have left any child. But now I knew better. She’d mothered two other children. She never left them. She only left me.
That thought ripped open a wound that I’d tried really hard to cover up.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” Miriam said, rolling my way and shoving me hard enough to send my chair careening away from the desk. “Thomas said you’re seeing a guy on your team? Is it the one? Is it the cute guy that Fletcher tried to keep away from you?”
I pressed my feet to the floor to stop the chair and cringed when pain shot up my leg. The injury had turned into an almost perfectly round, purple circle a couple inches above my ankle. Though I could walk—be it with a slight limp—running was still not an option. I planned to attend practice, but it killed me that I wouldn’t be able to play in the first game on Friday. Not with my lack of mobility at the moment.
“First off, Ryan and I have only been on one date, which didn’t exactly go well. And how does Thomas even know about us?”
Miriam crossed her arms, a look of deep hurt in her eyes. “How could you not tell me?”
I’d never intended to keep her in the dark. “Between that report for Jeffrey and some other stuff going on in my life, I’ve just been a bit distracted. I’m sorry you found out from Thomas.” Though I still wanted to know where he got the info. No doubt the gossip came from Fletcher. “Yes, it’s the same guy, and we aren’t at the seeing each other stage. It’s been one date and he hasn’t asked me for a second one.”
That fact had hit me the night before when I found myself watching my phone, hoping he would send a text. I considered sending one first, but so far he’d seen me swell up like a blowfish thanks to a crustacean, and take a ball to the shin due to my wandering brain. Yes, he’d been chivalrous at the end of practice—and that kiss on the forehead felt encouraging—but he could also be second-guessing taking a chance on someone who was clearly a high-maintenance woman.
“Where did you go?” Miriam asked. “Was it romantic?”
It should have been. “We went out for Italian, but I messed up and ate a shrimp-stuffed appetizer.”
Dark eyes went wide. “Oh, no.”
“Oh, yes,” I said, nodding my head. “Cue the swelling, the life-or-death emergency, and a scene that provided everyone in the restaurant an interesting story to share at their next dinner party.”
“Megan, are you okay?”
“Yes. I’m here, after all. Ryan knew how to administer the injector, then he took me home and we hung out at my place until the allergy meds knocked me out.”
Hurt turning to sympathy, she said, “I’m so sorry. Do you think that’s why he hasn’t asked you out again?”
I’d given this question a good bit of thought. “I don’t know. It’s only been five days, and he was really sweet at practice on Monday. Maybe we’ll go out again.” I hoped so, anyway.
Before Miriam could ask any more questions, my desk phone rang. The call was from Jeffrey’s office. I hadn’t seen him since turning in my report the morning before.
“Yes, sir?” I said after answering.
“I’ve forwarded you the email about the interviews tomorrow,” he said, skipping a greeting. “The resumes are attached. You need to review them and make notes on which candidates might be the best fit.”
I checked my inbox and found his email at the top. “I can do that.” Opening the message, I scanned the attachments listed at the bottom to make sure they all came through. They were titled with the name of each applicant, and when I reached the third one down, my heart stopped.
Rachel Stallings.
“I’m going straight to the meeting in the morning,” Jeffrey said, though I was barely listening now. “I’m not sure how long this consultant business will take. If we go into the afternoon, I won’t be in at all.”
“Okay,” I said, still staring at the name on my screen. Without waiting for him to say more, I hung up the phone and dropped my forehead onto the desktop.
“What is it?” Miriam said. “What did he say?”
“Shoot me, Miriam. Put me out of my misery.”
“You’re scaring me, Megan. What happened? Have they already decided w
hat programs to cut?”
If only that was the issue.
Lifting my head and turning her way, I asked, “Have you ever started a relationship with a lie?”
Brows drawn, she said “What are you talking about?”
“I told Ryan that I work in a bookstore because I didn’t want him to think I was an uptight, boring librarian. Now his sister is one of the interview candidates. She’s going to find out that I don’t work at a bookstore, which means I have to tell him the truth before tomorrow.”
“Megan, why would you lie about what you do?”
“I don’t know!” I said, throwing my hands in the air. “I was still stinging from the breakup with Fletcher and how he never thought I was exciting enough or interesting enough or whatever enough. This guy was cute and talkative and I wanted to keep him talking.” My voice faded to a near whisper. “I thought that once I got him to like me, it would be safe to tell him the truth.”
Pointing out the obvious, she said, “That doesn’t sound like a very good plan.”
“I know.” With a whimper, I dropped my head back to the desk. “I’ve tried to tell him a couple of times, but something always gets in the way.”
Miriam patted me on the back. “Maybe it’ll be okay. Maybe if you explain it just like that, he’ll be flattered that you liked him enough to lie?”
We both knew that was not going to happen. Lifting my head, I stared at Rachel’s name on my screen. “He’s such a sweet guy.”
“There will be other sweet guys,” Miriam assured me. “I can see if Devon has any single friends.”
Just because a quasi-blind date had worked for Becca did not mean I was ready to go there. “Thanks, but I’ll pass.”
The pity in her eyes was almost too much to bear. “Okay, hon. But if you change your mind, say the word and I’ve got you.”
“I appreciate that.” And I did. Though I would not be changing my mind. If anything, I should probably spare others from the drama my life had suddenly become. If I could, I’d spare myself as well, but that didn’t look possible anytime soon.
I showed up at practice with one mission, and though I was nauseous with dread, I would not let Ryan leave this field without knowing exactly what I did for a living.
“What are you doing here?” Theresa asked as I hobbled my way to the bench.
“Why wouldn’t I be here?”
She pointed at my leg. “Because you can’t play on that leg.”
A temporary condition. “For now.”
“What are you doing here?” asked Coach Barry as we reached the dugout.
Really? Had everyone expected me not to show?
“Am I not on this team?” I asked, struggling to control my annoyance.
“Yeah, but you can’t play,” he pointed out.
“I can’t play right now, but I’m not out for the season. And I can still get some batting practice.”
Satisfied with my answer, Coach said, “I appreciate the dedication.” Over my head, he yelled, “Let’s get ready to take the field. Brower, you’re at second for Knox, and Leroux cover short for Stallings.”
“Wait,” I said. “Cover for Stallings? Is Ryan not coming?”
“He called me about an hour ago,” he replied, carrying the five-gallon bucket of balls to home plate. I limped along behind him. “Something about a big meeting tomorrow so he’s working late.”
What the heck? How was I going to tell him now? The only reason I hadn’t done it the night before was because this didn’t feel like something one should confess over the phone. And definitely not through a text. But a call tonight would be better than him finding out from Rachel tomorrow.
Now I had a half hour to sit on the bench and stress instead of being on the field where I’d at least feel like I belonged here. Time sitting meant time to think. Time to question. Why had I lied about my job? I couldn’t keep blaming Fletcher. This was about me. What was wrong with me? What was wrong with being a librarian? With liking books and foreign films and staying home on a Saturday night?
Nothing. Nothing at all. Yet I’d gotten some idea in my head that I could only be interesting to a guy if I was someone else. What an idiotic notion. I didn’t want my boring life? Wish granted. How about a letter from your mother and a couple new siblings and a boomerang ex and a detached boss and a budding romance kicked off with a lie and a near-death experience.
Talk about karma. I deserved every bit of it.
While I simmered about the pickle my life had become, practice progressed but ended early. Within an hour we were all headed back to our cars, and because the universe wasn’t done with me just yet, Fletcher caught me at my car.
“Can we talk?”
Anxious to get home and call Ryan, I opened my car door. “Not today, Fletcher.”
“Megan, please.”
I’d never heard that tone in his voice before. “What is it?” I said, leaning on my car. Batting had been more painful than I’d expected, and all this walking wasn’t helping either.
Fletcher looked around while running a hand through his hair. “I didn’t want to do this here.”
My gut tightened. “Do what?”
“Can we go get a drink or something?”
I had something else to do. “This isn’t a good day. Can it wait?”
Shifting from one foot to the other, he said, “Just give me half an hour. Don’t I deserve that much?”
Did he really want me to answer that? “Fletcher, I’m having a really crappy week, and as far as I can tell, it’s going to get even worse very soon. So if you need to say something, just say it so I can go home.”
“Fine. I never should have broken up with you.”
For heaven’s sake. “What are you talking about?”
He shook his head. “I was wrong. I was an idiot.”
On that we could agree. “Is this because I went out with Ryan?”
His eyes locked with mine. “You went out with Ryan?”
So maybe he hadn’t been the one to tell Thomas. “Yes, I did.”
“Come on, Meg. You can do better than that guy.”
Said the man who dumped me. “Whether that guy or someone else, who I go out with is my business. Where is all this coming from? You had no problem saying we were through, and you have a girlfriend. One you seem to keep forgetting when we have these conversations.”
Fletcher crossed his arms. “Fiona and I aren’t working out.”
Oh, now this was making sense. “So you’re afraid you’re about to be single, and we can’t have that.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“You started seeing me less than two weeks after breaking up with… what was her name?” I had to think for a second. “Hayley, right? The first time I was in your apartment half of her things were still there. You told me they belonged to your sister.”
“What does that—”
“You can’t stand to be alone,” I said, cutting him off. “Fletcher, do you like yourself at all?”
That got me a blank stare. “What?”
“I mean, you’re a good guy. A bit needy, but you aren’t a bad person. Why don’t you try being single for a while. Figure out what you actually want instead of leaping into relationships just so you have someone around to give you attention twenty-four seven.”
Clearly offended, he said “I can be alone.”
“Can you?” I asked. “Really?” He remained silent, which didn’t surprise me. “Look, I’m the last person who should be giving relationship advice or babbling some self-help BS, but neither one of us is going to find the right person until we like who we are first. I lost my entire identity when I was with you because I had no idea who I was to begin with. I still don’t, but I know we aren’t a match. And you know that, too. You weren’t wrong eight months ago, Fletcher. We are two very different people. I don’t know if that’s the case with you and Fiona or not, but if that doesn’t work out, you’ll survive. You might even be better off spending a littl
e time with yourself. There’s a good, caring man in there somewhere. Under all the bluff and ego. You should take the time to get to know him. He’s worth the effort.”
He looked off into the distance for several seconds before meeting my gaze once again. The vulnerability in his eyes made me want to hug him.
“You really mean all that?”
I offered a heartfelt smile. “I do.” Funny that I’d once imagined saying those two little words to this man in a very different context. “You’ve got potential, Fletcher. You’re going to make some lucky girl really happy one day. But I’m not that girl.”
Expression softening, his lips turned up in a half grin. “Potential, huh?”
“Yeah.”
He slowly backed away. “I guess I’ll see you Friday.”
“I’ll be cheering from the bench, but I’ll be there.”
With a silent nod, he turned and walk across the now empty parking lot to the obnoxiously bright-red muscle car that was the perfect representation of the man who owned it. And I slid into my nondescript, practical little car feeling as if I’d accomplished something. It was time to take my own advice, and the first step was to clear things up with Ryan. Whether that went well or not, I too would survive. That was a handy thing to know.
I no longer felt nauseous about making the call. Nervous, but not nauseous. I guess I had Fletcher to thank for that. Everything I’d said to him applied to me as well. Heaven knew I wasn’t perfect, but I liked to think that I had potential, too. We were all a work in progress, after all.
Sitting on my couch, I dialed Ryan’s number. I hadn’t spoken to him on the phone before. We’d only exchanged texts so far. This wasn’t the way I wanted to do this, but I was going to feel so much lighter once he knew. No matter how he reacted, the truth would be out and we could either move forward or stop here. I would deal either way.
He picked up on the second ring and my courage wavered when his tone was slightly less than friendly.