Playing for Kinley (Cruz Brothers Book 1)

by Melanie Munton

  “Sure. Whatever you want to make is great!” I ran off to my room and shut the door behind me, not caring if I ate anything for the rest of the day.

  I could survive solely from the sight of Parker, I’d recently discovered.

  I quickly changed into a light summer dress—green, the color he said he liked on me best—and applied a hint of makeup. I’d been out taking pictures when he called, which meant I was in comfortable clothes, hair up in a messy bun, and absolutely no makeup on. He said I didn’t need it anyway, but I still put on a little of mascara and just a dash of eyeshadow to highlight my green irises. Luckily, when I let my hair down, I was able to finger-comb through the tresses and make it presentable enough without doing anything extra to it.

  Then, I was out the door again, telling my mom I would be back later for dinner. Depending on how the visit with Parker went I could very well be late, but I wasn’t going to tell her that.

  The butterflies in my stomach were multiplying with every second that passed as I made my way over to the meadow. I longed for these moments with him, as few and precious as they were. I hoped with all my heart that he would feel comfortable enough one day to explain all of this to Clay and my parents so we wouldn’t have to hide it anymore.

  Because no matter how often he told me otherwise, a part of me always felt that he was ashamed of me. Like he didn’t want everyone to know that a big shot AA ball player was dating a seventeen-year-old high school senior.

  I could see why he might have been embarrassed.

  I turned onto the dead-end street where I usually parked my car. After pulling it over to the side and locking it up, I navigated along the footpath we’d formed over the last several months and eventually came to the clearing that we referred to as our meadow. Nobody lived down the dead-end street where I parked, and we’d never seen another soul out here so we were never worried about getting caught.

  When I stepped out of the wooded area, I saw him standing underneath the big tree we often lazed and napped under during the many summer afternoons we’d spent together.

  My breath caught and it was an immediate reflex to smile at the sight of him. I walked over, watching as he paced under the tree, hands shoved in his pockets as he kicked at the dirt on the ground and the bark on the tree. He seemed agitated. He was probably just stressed, I told myself. He had a busy life now, so maybe he was just having a bad day.

  I could fix that for him.

  He finally saw me when I was about five feet away and his reaction mirrored mine. A bright, beaming smile spread across his face. But then it suddenly changed, faded slightly, and I could now tell that it was causing him effort to keep it on his face.

  I didn’t understand that.

  He’d never looked at me that way before.

  I told myself it was nothing as I closed the distance between us and wound my arms around his neck. “Hi,” I said against his mouth.

  “Hey,” he replied with the same weird smile.

  When I brought my lips up to his, he responded for only a second before closing himself off to me and pulling back. “We need to talk.”

  I wanted to believe that what he had to say was good news, but if his face was anything to go by, I didn’t need to get my hopes up.

  Then, it hit me.

  What if he’d gotten called up to the AAA team in Indianapolis? That would be amazing for him, but the added distance would definitely suck. I wanted that so much for him, though, so I told myself to stop being selfish and be happy for him if that were the case.

  “Okay,” I said slowly. “What’s going on?” I tried to pull him down to sit beside me against the tree like we always did, but he kept his hand on my wrist, keeping me in place. His behavior was starting to freak me out.

  He took a deep breath, rubbed his hands down his face, and then stared at the space over my shoulder, refusing to look me in the eyes. “I got a call the other day. They’re bringing me up…to the majors. I’m going to be a Pittsburgh Pirate.”

  Elation swarmed over me and I leapt into his arms. “Oh my God! Parker, that’s amazing! Congratulations! I’m so proud of you!”

  He squeezed me tightly to him as he let out a brief laugh—though it sounded rough—and then abruptly released me. I anticipated more of a reaction from him, but I was still smiling when he stepped away from me.

  “I guess I expected you to go to AAA before the majors,” I told him, barely able to contain my excitement. “They’re just bringing you straight up, huh?”

  A smile played at the corners of his mouth but he contained it. “Yeah, I guess they were impressed enough to call me all the way up.”

  “Have you told anyone else yet?”

  He shook his head. “No. I wanted you to be the first to know.” My heart soared at hearing that. I loved being that important to him. Then, that feeling faded a little with his next words. “But there’s a reason for wanting to tell you first.”

  “What do you mean? What reason?”

  My stomach turned over as a sense of impending doom suddenly clouded the atmosphere between us. I was getting a horrible feeling that this conversation wasn’t going to go the way I wanted.

  He sighed. He sounded miserable but resigned. “I can’t see you anymore, Kin. Not like this.”

  No.

  This was exactly what I’d been fearing all summer. That he would eventually get bored with a silly high school girl who couldn’t even get into bars and leave me for some supermodel type.

  “Why? I don’t understand.”

  He gripped the back of his neck and then waved his hand in the air like the answer should have been staring me in the face. “I’m getting called up, which means things are going to change for me. I’m going to be on the road all the time, going from one game to the next. I won’t have a lot of free time to come down and see you.”

  “I can come to your games, the ones in Pittsburgh,” I insisted. “We can work out getting to see each other. We do it now well enough. We don’t have to break up.”

  The look on his face was one of sympathy and regret and the knot around my stomach tightened further. “It’s going to be completely different than it is now.”

  “It doesn’t have to be,” I rushed to say.

  “But it does,” he shot back. “Things are changing for both of us and maybe this is how it’s supposed to be. I’m accomplishing all of my goals and you’re on your way to achieving yours. You’re going to start college next fall and things are going to change for you, too. You’ll meet new people, experience new places and new things. Maybe we need to be apart to allow ourselves to appreciate those things.”

  “So, you’re moving on to bigger and better things and the first thing you do is get rid of me?” The laugh I released had a distinct edge to it. “I guess it makes sense. To keep your options open, you know. Now that you’re going to be a famous baseball player. Why would you want a little girl like me holding you back, right?”

  “It’s me who doesn’t want to hold you back, Kin,” he said firmly. I snorted sarcastically but he continued. “I don’t want you waiting for me, putting your life on hold and missing out on the things you should be enjoying because of me. You want to see the world and I want that for you. I couldn’t stand it if you gave up opportunities to do that just so you could be with me.”

  That incensed me more than I’d expected it to. “Who says I would? I’m not the type of girl who would throw her entire life away for a guy, Parker. I would never do that and I know that you would never ask me to. I can still live out my dreams and be with you.”

  Now, that sympathetic look of his turned to one of pity and I couldn’t bear to see it. “I know you,” he said. “You would sacrifice more than you think you would. And by the time you realized what you’d done, it would be too late and you’d resent me for it.”

  I put my hands on my hips and faced him down, suddenly feeling years older than my age. “You don’t know all of that. You don’t know what I would do. And besides, is
n’t all of that my decision? It’s my life, Parker, so I’m free to go down whatever path I choose. And if that path ends up not being the one I planned, that’s my problem and I would deal with it. But I would never blame you.”

  “You say that now, but you’re only seventeen. You don’t know what you want yet.”

  He knew I hated it when he used my age as a crutch for anything, when he knocked me down a few pegs just because I was four years younger than him. Seventeen or not, high school or not, it didn’t mean that I didn’t know myself. Those were just numbers.

  I knew how I felt about Parker and I didn’t need a birthdate to convince me otherwise.

  “Don’t do that,” I spat. “Don’t hold my age against me. You know that’s bullshit and that it has nothing to do with us. I may be younger than you, but I know when something is real.” I waited until he met my eyes again. “This is real, Parker. We are real. I know you can see that.”

  His forehead creased and he closed his eyes for several seconds before opening them again. “First love can make people feel like it’s something more than it really is. You might believe that your feelings are powerful now, but in a couple of years, you’ll probably meet some guy in college and fall in love with him. And your feelings for me would fall short in comparison.”

  He blew out a heavy breath and his hands fisted at his sides. “Bottom line, Kin. I don’t want you to be waiting around for me all the time. Missing me when I’m gone, upset that I didn’t get a chance to call you, more upset when I can’t spend enough time with you. You deserve more than that. You deserve more than me.”

  I tried to control my reaction, tried to hide it. But my body wouldn’t listen to my brain, and I did the very thing I didn’t want to do. I cried in front of him. The tears streaked down my face and his eyes tracked every single one. It was almost as if he wanted to see me cry, needed to see the pain he’d caused me so that he would maintain firm in his decision to leave me.

  “I can’t believe you’re saying this,” I whispered.

  His head lowered like he was ashamed of himself. “I’m sorry, Kin.”

  I nodded my head slowly, realizing that he wasn’t going to change his mind and that I needed to learn to accept it. I would later search for that acceptance for months, even years afterwards, and I would never quite find it.

  “I guess best friends’ little sisters are only good for summer flings, right?”

  His head snapped up at me, his eyes sharp. The words felt like acid on my tongue, but I wanted to hurt him somehow, even if it was just a small fraction of the way he was hurting me. Maybe if I acted like it never meant anything to me either—just as he was doing—it would make it easier for both of us.

  He wouldn’t have to feel guilty and I could forget how much I loved him.

  I waited a few seconds for a response. When I realized I wasn’t getting one, I turned away from him but not before saying, “Good luck in the majors. I’m sure you’ll do great.”

  The sentiment was way too generous and sincere for what actually wanted to spew from my mouth. But I still cared for him. Regardless of how he had just crushed me, I wanted him to do well in life and to live out his dream because he deserved that. He’d worked hard his whole life to get to this point, and he deserved to experience it for all it was worth.

  I was just devastated that I wouldn’t be there with him.

  And I hadn’t been.

  He’d moved on without me and it now felt like we were coming full circle. Sure, this time there was an entirely different reason for our separation. It just still felt a little like he’d kept me around for a few laughs and some good sex—insisted upon keeping our relationship a secret, just like all those years ago—and then when things got a little more complicated, he bailed.

  Because although I may have been the one to physically walk away, he’d already shut the door in my face a week ago.

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  Parker

  I never thought that I’d return to this place—the dilapidated structure that was my childhood home—feeling the exact same way I did when I once lived here: like a confused, scared, lost little boy.

  Mason and Dawson were with me, offering each other support and forming a wall of steely resolve, preparing ourselves to face what none of us wanted to. Somewhere deep inside me, though, I knew this was something I had to do—had to confront—in order for me to be able to move forward with my life.

  Especially if I ever wanted to get Kinley back.

  I already had wanted her back from the moment she walked out of my house. But I knew I wasn’t yet ready to face her, ready to confess all of my secrets and own up to my mistakes. It was almost October now and it had been a horrible, terrible month without her in my life. Without hearing her voice or seeing her face or feeling her body against mine. We hadn’t talked. I didn’t know how she was doing. I was so desperate to ask Clay about her, but I knew that would give something away.

  I wasn’t ready to confess all to him either.

  The three of us approached the front door and one by one, slowly walked inside the tattered ruins of the home of a family that was broken beyond repair.

  Or at least one of us was.

  We’re doing this for Mom.

  The inside of the house was just as I remembered from the last time I was here. The outdated, musty-smelling living room furniture looked well beyond its prime. Cigarettes, empty beer cans, and pill bottles littered the coffee table. The smell of stale beer and mothballs filled the air, something that hadn’t changed in two decades.

  The TV was turned to some soap opera, the volume turned down low, and I could hear voices coming from one of the back bedrooms. We all three looked at each other and silently communicated our plan: talk to Mom, give her the groceries, offer our support, and then get the hell out before anybody pissed anybody else off.

  “We’re going to do this quick,” Dawson murmured as I heard someone walking down the hall from the bedroom. “Try not to do anything to upset her.”

  I didn’t have the emotional capacity to deal with another woman close to me crying, so I was definitely going to heed his warning.

  Our mother entered the living room with a sullen, tired expression and a thick cloud of despair surrounding her. Her blonde hair had lost its rich color and voluminous bounce over the years. The skin on her frail body looked almost as if it were hanging off the bones, and the wrinkles on her face made her look twice her age.

  There was no denying that the woman was still pretty, had once even been strikingly beautiful. But she had lost that spark, that light that had once made her shine brighter than anyone else.

  Or that light had been snuffed out, hidden under a bushel by someone.

  I didn’t need to think about that now—forced myself not to—as I tried to put on a brave face for the woman who’d brought the three of us into the world.

  “My boys,” she breathed, sounding the most weary I’d ever heard her. She had a small smile on her face as she reached her bony arms around each of us in a pathetically weak hug. At least she seemed sober, which was a good thing if she was being forced to take care of her husband.

  “Hey, Mom,” Mason greeted. “How’s it going?”

  She swiped her palm over her forehead, and shrugged her shoulders. “He’s having a bad day. Taking his medicine but the only thing that will get him to shut up is his drink. Says he’s dying anyway so what’s the difference.”

  My thoughts exactly.

  The sooner it frees all of us from the bastard the better.

  Holy shit. Had I really just thought that? Had I wished for my own father to die? It wasn’t like the thought hadn’t come over me before, but that time it had a heavy dose of hatred fueling it. The reaction scared me.

  I didn’t want to have those kinds of dark thoughts.

  Not like our father did.

  Dawson extended his hands which were full of plastic bags. “We brought over some groceries. We figured you might not have had
a lot of time to get out.”

  That was Dawson. Always trying to protect her feelings and her pride. Apparently, she’d had both once. Not that I would have known any better, or Mason. Only Dawson had known that side of her.

  “Thank you. You boys didn’t have to do that. All three of you are still so sweet.” Then, she lowered her voice and muttered, almost talking to herself, “Maybe I did one thing right.”

  At the sound of her devastated words, the sudden overwhelming feeling to let all of my emotions loose, allow them to flow freely down my cheeks in the form of thirty-two years of painful longing, hit me with a force that I didn’t often feel.

  Two minutes inside this God-forsaken house and one comment from my mother had me wanting to break down.

  She led us back into the kitchen where a pungent aroma immediately attacked my nostrils, which I assumed was coming from the sky-high stack of dirty dishes in the sink. A barrage of memories hit me with full-force at seeing that image, but I pushed them aside.

  Dawson set the bags on the counter, and Mason and I started to put everything away in its spot while our older brother spoke quietly with her in the corner. They’d always had their own bond, so it didn’t really bother me that they were momentarily excluding us from the conversation.

  I probably wouldn’t know what to say to her anyway, so it was all for the best.

  Mason and I worked quietly and the other two eventually joined us again. “So, Mason,” Mom began as she lit up a cigarette. “How’s the shop going?”

  “Going well,” he replied, trying to act as if this were any other normal day and our mother was June Cleaver. “Bringing in a lot of business, so I can’t complain.”

  “Well, as soon as you find yourself a ’65 Shelby GT350 with the original body, your momma has first dibs,” she said, blowing out a cloud of smoke.

  Mason was actually able to genuinely chuckle at that. “Good luck finding one. And even if you did, you know how many other buyers you’d have to fight off?”

  She smiled, another genuine expression. “That’s why I called dibs.” Mason shook his head and she turned her attention to me.