by Shey Stahl
“Good morning,” I said, just as I opened the door.
“So…” Frankie gave me a sly smile as I closed her bedroom door.
“What?” I asked, knowing where this was going and plopping myself down on her bed and beginning to look through the newest People magazine.
Frankie smiled, bright and clever, and it reminded me of Grayson right then, when he wanted something. “Yes, but first we are going to a little fundraiser for the hospital, remember the baseball game? Put this on.” She threw some really short jean shorts at me along with a bikini top, well actually strings with two triangles.
“There is no way in hell I am wearing that to a baseball game, Frankie,” I threw it back at her. “You’re out of your fucking mind!”
She crossed her arms and tapped her foot on the ground, irritated. “I can’t believe you. Evie, be reasonable! This is for a good cause,” she smirked. “Besides, it will give you a chance to show Grayson what he’s been missing,” she hedged winking. “I know shit really hit the fan the other night but we promised the hospital a month ago.”
“Grayson’s on a job interview. He didn’t say anything to me about playing baseball today.”
Frankie gave me a look. “He can never say no to his sisters. You should know that by now.”
And I did.
While staring at the ridiculous bikini top, I realized Shane might be at the game and the thought gave me an instant wave of nausea. “Wait, isn’t Shane playing in that game?” I remember him talking about it the other day. Suddenly the anxiety came back and the weight I once felt lifted, had returned in a moment.
“Well, yeah,” I felt the blood leave my face. “But,” she held a finger up. “He’s on the other team and you will be well protected by our whole family. We’re not going to let him near you.”
“Do you really think this is a good idea, Frankie?” To me it seemed horrible. After everything, I should stay away from him.
“No, but we already promised,” Frankie sighed, and I knew I couldn’t let her down.
“I look like hell.”
“We’ll fix that,” her eyes took in my face, dancing over every mark I knew was there, visible to the world.
“I hate you.”
She held my face in her hands. “And I love you.”
As I looked at the bikini, it was then that I caught on to what she was implying…Grayson wouldn’t let Shane or any other man near me, not that I would mind. Grayson had always been protective of me and I could only imagine how he felt now, returning to this, seeing what happened to me.
“I don’t think that outfit is a good idea then,” I suggested pushing it away again.
“Evie, I know but we’re the cheerleaders and this is what we are wearing. You want to support the hospital, right?”
Frankie was a nurse part-time at the hospital in Dothan and was constantly convincing me to do these charities. And when I didn’t, she would make me feel guilty, like I was personal responsible for childhood cancer or something. Not that she said that, but how could you deny helping out a charity without feeling guilty?
“Frankie, what if Ethan or Grayson starts a fight with Shane?”
She laughed. “Let them. That asshole deserves to fucking die a slow painful tortured death.”
I agreed, but I didn’t want the drama of it all. I wanted to never think of him again.
Was that really too much to ask for?
After Frankie applied a thick coat of makeup to my swollen face I slipped on one of Grayson’s old baseball sweatshirts that I stole in high school. Then I added a pair of dark sunglasses before going downstairs.
Frankie smiled when she saw the sweatshirt pulling playfully on the hood. “You do realize it’s ninety degrees outside?”
I sighed and kept walking downstairs. If I was going out in public with this damn bikini on, I was wearing this goddamn sweatshirt, regardless of this Alabama heat.
“Hey,” she said as we walked through the kitchen. “I don’t want to hash out the other night or make you all weepy, but was that Jameson Riley who basically saved you from Shane?”
“Yeah,” I nodded. “He walked by.”
“Wow.” She smiled, impressed. “He doesn’t seem like the dick they make him out to be.”
As far as I was concerned, Jameson Riley was a hero. There was a good part of me knew if I went home with Shane last night, I might not have ever come back.
Grayson had told me Aiden called him on Monday, at Jameson’s request, to make sure I was okay. I would never forget what he did for me. If I could have found a way to thank him, I would.
I was relieved to find Grayson wasn’t back when I got downstairs.
I decided to ride with Frankie and packed up her car with some cold drinks for the game.
As soon as we stepped outside I was regretting the sweatshirt and cursing Frankie once again. And this stupid humid state we lived in.
Damn you Alabama. Damn you.
When Frankie opened her trunk to put the cooler in the back, I noticed something rather disturbing in there.
“Um, Frankie,” I looked up her. “Do I dare ask why you have these in your car?” I asked holding up ropes, duct tape and a shovel.
She chuckled, “No, probably not.” She glanced over her shoulder. “You never know when you might need to bury a body, or tie someone up.”
When we arrived at the baseball fields a short ten minutes later. I immediately spotted Grayson on the field warming up with Josh and Ethan. I hadn’t seen him with a glove since high school. The feeling warmed me inside, like a memory hitting me in the heart.
Dressed in black baseball pants and the gray and lime green jersey with the number eleven on the back, the same number he had through his entire baseball career even in T-Ball…he was a fine specimen to behold, even more now that his three-year absence had honed his physique to perfection.
Then I saw the bat. His bat. Lou.
He held it at his waist, both hands wrapped around the barrel examining the handle with Josh beside him. I noticed, even from the parking lot, he seemed to be a little nervous. When he let the bat down, leaning to one side, his hands were shaking slightly.
Frankie smiled, her chin on my shoulder. “The uniforms turned out nice, didn’t they?”
She knew I was looking. “How’d you get them that fast?”
“I’m good at negotiations.”
There was certainly no doubt about that. My eyes drifted back to Grayson.
Could he look any sexier out there! Even in a baseball uniform. I need to control myself!
Kelly met us at the car to help carry everything but it still wasn’t enough hands. After tripping a few times while carrying an armful of chairs, Grayson came running over to help.
“No one this beautiful should have to carry anything,” he grinned and winked at me.
“That was a cheesy line.”
He shrugged with a laugh and looked at what I was wearing, turning around to walk backwards. “Aren’t you a little warm in that sweatshirt?” he asked with a smirk knowing exactly what was under it judging by Frankie and Kelly’s attire. They were shamelessly sporting their string bikini tops and cut-off jeans around the parking lot like whores.
“No,” I wouldn’t give him the satisfaction.
He smiled again shaking his head. “Yeah, right.”
We started walking toward the field. Grayson threw the chairs on his shoulder to keep one hand free. “You know, I thought I misplaced that sweatshirt a while ago,” he rubbed his hand against his jaw as he slowly smirked shaking his head slowly. “Guess it was in good hands after all.”
I bit back a smile. If only he knew how many of his hoodies I had stolen over the years.
The fields were crawling with people so I felt safe that Shane would keep his distance. There was no way he was trying something with that many people.
I could see him standing in the dugout on the team for Lawson Landscaping, his white jersey making his thick black hair stand ou
t.
He didn’t look my way, but his eyes were on Grayson.
I didn’t like the way he watched Grayson, as if he was trying to find a weakness, any angle he could use to gain some sort of advantage over him. The thought gave me chills.
Grayson bumped my shoulder, a water in his hand drifted my way. I took it. “You okay?”
“I’m fine.”
It was a lie. I don’t know if I’ll ever be fine again. I’d heal, but, I knew I’d always have a constant reminder of this. Emotional scars do that to you. There’s no ripping of the bandage. There can’t be. There’s only time. You hold the smile and believe it’s possible to move on.
“You sure?” he cocked an eyebrow at me, his face rugged and somber. I knew, had I not been okay, Grayson would have easily gotten me out of there.
I nodded, glancing at Shane again, noticing there was a darkness under his eyes. It was nice to see he finally had a reminder of our time together. Try covering that up with makeup or explaining that one, dipshit.
Shane looked my way, this time he gave me a head nod. I wanted to flip him off. I wanted to kill him. I hated that no mattered how hard I tried, he took something from me and I would never get that piece back.
Grayson leaned into me, his arm wrapped around my shoulders. It was a tender touch. A gentle reminder I was safe with him, a boy who stole my heart, but I gave it to him like a gift. I could tell then he wanted to kick the shit out of Shane, but I was impressed with his self-control right now. “He’ll never hurt you again.”
We stood against the fence along right field, the slap of the tightly wound cotton and leather hitting baseball gloves, the sounds of an afternoon baseball game reminded me of how much I missed Grayson.
My eyes found his, the brown in them honey colored in the sun, his hair lighter than I remember it being. Or maybe it was the tears in my eyes constricting my vision.
It could have been.
He doesn’t fool me. I see he has scars too. Maybe even some I’ve given him. I’ve always acted on impulse with Grayson. He’s something I can’t stop myself from needing and wanting, he’s my addiction.
If my body thought for one second I’d be allowed a taste, it’s all it took. It didn’t matter what was at stake or on the line. I went for it.
That night, the one where I did act on impulse back in high school, a lot was at stake there. I never considered how Grayson might have felt. I just took what was offered.
I’ll never ever regret giving myself to him. I did blame myself for him leaving. Maybe I shouldn’t have led him on, or did what we did. Maybe.
“I’m serious.” Grayson said, watching me, not knowing I was thinking of him, and not Shane. “If it’s too much, I’ll take you back.”
“No. I don’t want him taking this from me too. And it’s not me I’m worried about. I’m worried about what he’ll do to you,” I motioned between us. “He thinks we’re together now.”
“I don’t give a shit and I’m seriously not worried one bit at the thought of confronting him.” Grayson hung his head slightly, and then angled his stare at me. “Let him think we’re together. I don’t think it would be that much of a lie, would it?”
He had me there.
I never moved on from Grayson. Times like this, I think he knew that and it was easy to believe, to want to believe he hadn’t either.
My mom once told me you can’t make yourself love someone. But you also can’t make yourself not love someone.
I knew just how true that was.
Grayson bumped my shoulder again. “I’ll fuckin’ kill him if he touches you again.”
I smiled, it was all I could do but it was weak. My eyes went to the field and skirted over to where Josh was warming up. “Do you remember how to play?”
He smiled this time, just as weak. Turning to face me, his hand rose from the fence to my hair, twirling a piece of my hair between his fingers. “There’s some things you never forget.”
The game started uneventful. Shane stayed in the dugout and kept his distance from Grayson, and Ethan, who had showed up just before the first pitch was thrown.
After the third inning, I was fucking dying. I couldn’t take it any longer, the sweatshirt had to go, either that, or I was about to start convulsing from heat stroke and, believe me, I briefly contemplated the humiliation of heat stroke over taking this goddamn sweatshirt off.
With Shane here, it seemed like a dumb idea to be flaunting myself.
Trying to be sneaky about the revealing I turned my back to the field and slipped off the sweatshirt. I hadn’t even gotten it over my shoulders before Josh and Grayson were whistling at me from the field.
“Take it off!” Grayson howled from shortstop, smiling.
There is was. Playful Grayson. I hadn’t seen that boy in a while, but I sure did remember him. The thought made me smile, wide and wishful.
My face immediately turned red. Frankie and Kelly thought it was hilarious, both caught in choking laughter.
I looked over my shoulder to glare at the guys when someone hit a line drive to Grayson as his eyes were directly on me. Consequently the ball ricocheted off his shin as he jumped around in obvious pain.
“Teach you to stare at my sister!” Ethan shouted from left field, laughing. Grayson just shook his head with that crooked smile and looked away, running his fingers through his messy hair and then replaced his baseball hat.
My stare immediately went to Shane, on impulse, to see his reaction. His head was down, his eyes on the ground.
He’d yet to look my direction during the game. He came up to bat and we all knew that Shane always hit right to shortstop every time, never failed. This time Grayson had all eyes on Shane. Grayson played ball all through high school, he even received a scholarship to Alabama State but I heard he turned it down when he left for the military. He could have made a career out of it easily, but for Grayson it was just for fun.
The first pitch was a ball. The second he got a hold of. Sure enough, Shane hit a fast grounder up third base between Josh and Grayson.
Josh stepped aside and Grayson slowly picked it up and tossed it lightly to himself for a minute while Shane ran to first base. As if it was easy, Grayson’s head came up arrogantly, smirking. A few feet before he reached the base Grayson threw a rocket right at his head, hitting him in the head knocking his helmet to the ground. Shane stumbled, obviously rocked by the hit a little. Grayson had an arm on him. He could throw a baseball over ninety miles an hour.
Part of me hoped the hit gave Shane brain damage. The other part of me wanted to pick up Ethan’s bat sitting next to me and beat the shit out of him in front of everyone. Let him see how that felt while I asked him how he liked it.
Then there was a part of me that really wanted to see Grayson kick the shit out of him. Call me crazy but I thought it would be a good show. I would even break out the popcorn and gummy bears and order it on pay-per-view. I’ve said it before, I wanted Ethan and Grayson to stay out of it, but it didn’t stop my mind for wanting a little revenge on him.
Shane stumbled momentarily before throwing the helmet off and heading straight toward Grayson, only to be stopped by Lance who was coaching first base.
“Whoa dude, just let it go.” Lance urged, pulling on Shane’s arm. I don’t think Lance is stupid. I actually think he’s smart because he knew if Shane started something Grayson, well, it wouldn’t have ended well.
Shane flung his arm away from Lance. “Get off me.” He looked to Grayson again, pointing his finger at him. “Your turns comin’ man!”
Grayson just stood there staring at him with that smirk on his face, waiting for him to make a move. As Shane reluctantly walked away, Grayson shrugged his shoulders carelessly and turned around.
I had a good view of Grayson from my seat along third base outside the dugout. Our eyes caught when Shane was walking away. I smiled at him, grateful for the small act of retribution he handed out.
Grayson winked.
At the st
art of the fourth inning, Grayson was up and Shane was pitching.
Grayson liked to hit up the middle and rock the pitcher from time to time. Part of me wondered if Shane knew that. I don’t think he did. His sport was football, not baseball.
But then again, maybe he did. He knew way more about Grayson than I ever suspected.
I could see that look on Shane’s face, in his eyes, when he turned on the mound. His eyes were on mine now. I know the look and it made me want to run to Grayson, afraid of what would happen next.
My stare, and thirty others, moved to Grayson as he approached home plate, tugging on his left sleeve, his bat hit against his cleats once. It was a habit he always had, and never broke.
His hand came up, a certain amount of arrogance in it, his eyes on Shane, a sure glower I knew. I watched his feet and the angle of his stance. I’ve seen Grayson drive one back at the pitcher, many times.
Fuck you, Shane. I hope this stings like a motherfucker.
Shane moved, his arm drawn back when the umpire gave the signal.
It was a purposely delivered pitch off to the right. Grayson saw it just in time and twisted around, the ball bounced off his right shoulder he dropped into it but the sound was awful.
It stung, it had to have.
If it did, Grayson didn’t lead on. Shane stood, relaxed on the mound, his glove hanging loosely at his side, waiting on Grayson’s response.
“Take your base,” the umpire said, motioning to first base.
Grayson refused and got into stance again.
Shane shrugged, much like the interaction between them last inning.
“Just take your base, Grayson,” Wyatt warned from the first base line.
He ignored his dad, didn’t even look at him, his eyes only on Shane.
I think Shane was counting on Grayson just taking the base because if Grayson got a hold of the ball, it was coming back at him.
And it did. I heard the crack of the bat, and then Shane holding his stomach where the hard and solid line drive had nailed his left hip.
“Just a little lower would have been nice,” I thought to myself, only to have Frankie actually say it, louder, at Grayson as he was running to second base.