Players

by Rachel Cross

  Drew looked past her to where Clarissa’s desk was. “Clarissa? Could you keep an eye on the phone for a few minutes?”

  The older woman glanced first at him and then at Shannon. “Absolutely. Take all the time you need.”

  Drew looked back at Shannon. “Come on,” he said gently. “Please?”

  Avoiding his eyes, Shannon got up and walked slowly past him into his office.

  “Have a seat,” he invited her, closing the door behind him. She sank into the chair across from his desk, still avoiding his gaze as he sat on the desk’s edge near her. He fidgeted with his tie for a few moments, something he usually did when he was struggling to think of the right words to say. “Shannon, I’ll be honest. I’m worried about you.”

  “I’m fine.”

  “I don’t think you are fine. I think you’ve been hurting ever since Michael left. As his brother, I—”

  “You feel a certain responsibility?” she finished for him.

  He played with his tie again. “Yes. Yes, I do. And as your boss. And maybe as a friend, too. It just seems that despite what you said the last time we talked about him, you two were doing more than just spending a little time together. And I think maybe you fell pretty hard for Michael.”

  She felt her eyes tearing up and started blinking again. Wordlessly, Drew reached for a tissue and handed it to her. “Thanks,” she said with difficulty, inwardly wincing at the slight catch in her voice.

  “It might help you to talk about it.”

  Shannon started to open her mouth and then closed it again.

  Drew nudged her with his elbow. “Try it. I’m a world-class listener when I put my mind to it.”

  She gave him another wan smile. Her heart no longer leaped when Drew was around, but he was still an all-around good guy. “I think maybe I owe you an apology,” she said finally, drying her eyes on the tissue.

  “Me? No.”

  “I wasn’t completely honest with you about why I was . . . ” She faltered. “ . . . hanging around your brother. We had a kind of arrangement.”

  “Because he wanted you to help him with the youth center.” Drew nodded. “I figured that much out for myself.”

  “I thought it was for the best,” she said quickly, hoping he would understand what she meant. “He made some good points but there was too much bad blood between the two of you for you to consider them.”

  He smiled reassuringly. “It’s okay, Shannon. Truthfully, I had some of the same concerns as Michael at one point. You don’t need to apologize for anything.”

  “That’s not quite all there was to it.” Shannon folded and refolded the tissue in her hand. Maybe she ought to be mortified at the thought of admitting the crush she had on Drew, but now that it was gone, it didn’t seem to matter so much anymore. Or maybe she was just too depressed to care. She smiled faintly and made herself look him in the eye. “You know, I had quite the crush on you in high school. Along with fifty million other girls.”

  He looked a little surprised. “You did?”

  “Yes. All four years. And the truth is—” Now her face did grow a little warmer. “For a long time after you came to work here, I thought I still did. But I think now it was more because I was still sort of mixed up about high school than anything else. No offense,” she added hastily.

  “None taken,” he said, and she could tell he was trying not to smile.

  “The thing is, Michael spotted it right away.” She grew somber again. “And in exchange for my help, he offered to sort of . . . mentor me.”

  “I see.”

  “I’m sorry. I guess it was a little shady.”

  Now he did smile. “Shady? I’ve seen a lot worse, Shannon. I am in politics, after all.”

  “You’re trying to make me feel better, aren’t you?”

  “I am.” He studied her more seriously. “So, somewhere along the way things changed, huh?”

  Shannon was quiet for a minute. She wiped her eyes again. “I feel like an idiot,” she said finally.

  “Why?”

  “Because . . . ” She shrugged helplessly, unable to get the words out.

  “Because you started to have feelings for Michael?” he suggested gently.

  She bit her lip and nodded. “I should have known better.”

  “We can’t help who we care about.”

  “But I should have known better than to think . . . ”

  “Think what?”

  She felt her breath hitch in her throat. “Never mind. I guess I just started to imagine something that wasn’t there. So, therefore,” she pointed at herself, “idiot.”

  “Shannon . . . ” Drew appeared to weigh his next words carefully. “I’m not sure if I should say this or not.”

  “Say what?”

  “Michael came to see me the night he left town. Only briefly, but he was different.”

  Shannon looked at him, confused at where he was going with this.

  “He said some things about our parents. And about you. God knows I’m not my brother’s biggest fan, but I think he actually meant what he said.” Drew ran a hand through his hair, frowning slightly. “What I’m trying to say is I suspect you may have had a bigger effect on him than you realize.”

  She looked away again. “I seriously doubt that.”

  Drew was silent for a long time. “You might be selling yourself a little short,” he said finally.

  He was making an admirable effort to cheer her up, so for his sake, she tried to smile. “Maybe.” She stood up. “I should get back to work. Thanks for the tissue.”

  “Why don’t you just call it a day? It’s nearly that time anyway.”

  “Thanks. Maybe I will.”

  “Hey, Shannon?”

  At the door, she turned around.

  “It’s a shame I didn’t know about your crush in high school.” He grinned boyishly at her. “That could have been interesting.”

  She smiled back. “Yeah, it could have.”

  And then she closed the door behind her.

  • • •

  Michael’s head throbbed from the noise in the bar. Noise was good. It meant there were lots of customers, which was always welcome news for a business owner like himself, but tonight it was more jarring than reassuring, and he felt a need to escape from it. Since getting back from his trip he had tried to throw himself into work as much as possible, thinking it would be the best medicine for him until his feelings for Shannon went away. Only problem was, those feelings weren’t cooperating.

  Behind the bar, he absently mixed a couple of drinks before realizing the voluptuous brunette on the other side of it had asked him a question. She was now frowning at him impatiently as she waited for a reply he was apparently late in giving.

  “Sorry,” he acknowledged with a curt smile. “What was that?”

  She leaned forward a bit, displaying a generous amount of cleavage for his benefit. “I said I’ll bet you probably know some great places around here where two people who wanted to be alone together could have some fun.” Her eyelashes fluttered coyly as her lips parted in a smile that was clearly an invitation. “What time are you off?”

  He turned away from the flesh she had out on display and focused again on the drinks. “Late. I’m closing up tonight.”

  “I can wait—”

  “Afraid not,” he returned firmly, smiling a little to take some of the sting out of the rejection. “Thanks anyway.”

  Her eyes narrowed, and she stalked off toward the other end of the bar, muttering something he was pretty sure wasn’t very polite.

  Michael caught the eye of the other bartender on duty, Sammy. “Are you nuts?” Sammy mouthed at him, jerking his head in the direction of the departing brunette and raising his eyebrows. Michael just shrugged halfheartedly before gesturing that he was heading to the back room. Sammy nodded and leaned forward to take a drink order from a couple at the bar.

  The tiny back room was cramped and cluttered, but at least it offered some relief fro
m the noise of the crowd. Michael closed the door behind him and sank wearily into a chair behind the desk covered with assorted papers and invoices. And the hometown newspaper Drew would probably be shocked to know he subscribed to.

  He rubbed his aching head and glanced at the article he had clipped out earlier that day.

  Kingston Youth Center Dedication Ceremony To Be Held Tomorrow.

  The headline seemed to cut through him every time he read it. Partly because it reminded him of his failure to change his brother’s mind, although he did his best to adopt Drew’s perspective on the matter, but mostly because it made him think of who would almost certainly be attending the ceremony.

  He averted his eyes from the article and stared into space. Would Shannon be there merely in a professional capacity, or would she be going as Drew’s date? He pictured her on his brother’s arm, smiling into Drew’s eyes, and his gut tightened.

  Was this what it was like to really want a woman? Was this what love songs were all written about? If so, it was awful. Love wasn’t bliss, it was misery. To want something so much and know it wasn’t yours to hold, to touch . . .

  For a moment his old instincts flared up again. He could have seduced her away from Drew if he really tried. Maybe he still could.

  No. He couldn’t. Maybe he could have not so long ago, but not now. Not to her.

  Michael abruptly crumpled the article and forced his attention to the waiting stack of invoices.

  • • •

  It was a good-sized crowd that was gathering on the grounds of the Kingston family estate. Townspeople, families, reporters—even a news camera, Shannon realized as she spotted it near the far side of the podium, its lens focused on the ceremonial ribbon stretched out before the entrance to the house. Drew had to be pleased by the amount of community interest in today’s ceremony. It boded well for the future of the youth center.

  As if on cue, Drew appeared then to take his place at the podium. He glanced at a large framed picture of his parents that had been placed on an easel nearby, and a flicker of emotion crossed his face that might have been sadness or maybe just nostalgia. Whatever it was, he quickly replaced it with a smile as he turned his full attention to the crowd before him.

  “Ladies and gentlemen,” he began, “I want to thank you all for coming out today to help me celebrate what I hope will be the beginning of a wonderful new chapter in the support of our community’s children: the Kingston Youth Center.”

  There was a smattering of applause.

  Shannon joined in politely but was well aware that she was doing little more than going through the motions. Enough, she berated herself. This day had been a long time in coming, and Drew had worked hard to make it happen. It was a good and selfless thing that he was doing, and she ought to be thinking about that instead of remembering Michael’s disappointment in himself over what he saw as his failure to atone for the past.

  But her heart still ached for him. She searched the crowd for Michael, on the off chance he had decided to attend after all, but he was not there. She hadn’t really expected him to be.

  Drew’s voice caught Shannon’s attention again, and she forced her thoughts away from Michael. “My parents, Blythe and Walter Kingston,” he glanced at the portrait again, “worked hard to ensure I had opportunities. Opportunities in education, opportunities in sports, opportunities to achieve.” He looked back at the faces in the crowd. “Many children never get such opportunities. For them, dreams are a luxury they cannot afford.”

  Shannon watched him turn and gesture at the house behind him, and despite her empathy for Michael, she found herself moved by Drew’s intentions for this place. This was no publicity stunt. He had ambitious plans for the children this center would serve, and the enthusiasm in his voice when he spoke about them was genuine.

  “Here at the Kingston Youth Center, we hope to make dreams a very real part of kids’ lives. With your help, we plan to offer programs that support underprivileged children’s success in academics, sports, and the arts. We hope to send the message that where you start in life doesn’t determine where you finish, and that the only limits out there are the ones we place on ourselves.”

  His words captured Shannon’s attention. Limits. She was painfully familiar with them. Would she have grown up to be a very different person if someone had fostered such sentiments in her when she was a struggling child? Would limits have had any hold on her like they seemed to now?

  Drew accepted a pair of large ceremonial scissors from a smiling city councilmember standing off to the side. “Without further ado, I give you the Kingston Youth Center.” He cut the ribbon in two, and the cut ends drifted gracefully to the ground.

  The crowd applauded once more and cheered. Camera flashes went off everywhere.

  Shannon merely watched silently, Drew’s words echoing in her head.

  • • •

  Drew’s speech was still on Shannon’s mind as she washed dishes in her kitchen sink that evening, staring unseeingly out the window and into the darkness of her backyard.

  Where you start in life doesn’t determine where you finish.

  It was hardly the message she had heard from her parents while growing up, content as they were to go on living hand to mouth without ever trying to change their circumstances. And she certainly hadn’t heard it from her peers, either. Quite the opposite. But she had dared to reach a little beyond their expectations, hadn’t she? Maybe night school wasn’t glamorous, but she had earned a degree. And made a home for herself. And she liked to think she made a difference at work, too. More of a difference than anyone else in her family ever had, at least.

  Dropping the dishcloth in the sink, Shannon turned around and leaned back against the counter to let her eyes roam over the kitchen she had remodeled all by herself, and not too shabbily at that.

  Limits, she thought again. They hadn’t held her back anywhere else in her life, just in personal matters, but they had crippled her there. Years of believing she wasn’t good enough, or desirable enough, to warrant a man’s affection. So she had played it safe by remaining on the sidelines where ridicule and rejection couldn’t reach her.

  And what had that gotten her? Ten years of pining after the same man, all without him ever having a clue about her feelings. Ten years of loneliness and waiting for something to happen. She had gotten very good at waiting. Maybe too good.

  What if . . .

  Old doubts surged up before she could even finish the thought, but she pushed past them.

  What if she got off the sidelines, just this once, and went to see Michael? What if she stopped watching everyone else play the game and actually made a move herself?

  He won’t want you, her inner voice whispered knowingly.

  That was certainly possible. Her heart rate sped up just at the thought of daring to tell Michael about her feelings for him, and sudden nausea made her stomach turn over. He wouldn’t mock her, she was sure. But he might pity her, and the thought of that made her heart pound all over again. She wasn’t sure she could bear pity from him.

  Well, she would be safe from pity if she stayed home, all right. But something else nagged at her besides that cruel inner voice, something that suggested if she didn’t do something to break the pattern of old habits now, then she never would.

  Bo came trotting into the kitchen, and Shannon bent down to run her fingers through his soft fur. He licked her nose, and she cradled his muzzle in her hands to look him in the eyes.

  “I’ve got to do it, don’t I?” she whispered out loud, and the words hung in the air. “I’ve got to go tell him. If I don’t . . . ” She trailed off, picturing herself in another ten years, still living exactly the same life as she was now with all her inhibitions and insecurities. The loneliness of it unsettled her as much as the idea of exposing her feelings to Michael.

  Bo cocked his ears at the sound of her voice and whined as if he picked up on the tension in it.

  Shannon sank down onto the floor and pu
lled Bo onto her lap, even though he was much too big to be a lapdog. He didn’t seem to mind, though, and even redoubled his efforts to lick her face. She wrapped her arms around him and hugged him tightly as if doing so might somehow give her courage.

  It didn’t work, but she came to her decision anyway.

  She would go. And she would tell him. For better or for worse, she would tell him.

  If she didn’t throw up first.

  Chapter Twelve

  “Clarissa? I need a favor.” Shannon cradled the phone between her shoulder and her chin as her hands busied themselves in packing a small overnight bag. “I’m sorry to call you so late in the evening, but—”

  “It’s fine, honey, it’s not that late.” There was concern in Clarissa’s voice. “Is everything okay?”

  “Yeah, it’s just—I need to go out of town. Just for a day or two, maybe, but I’ll need you to cover Drew’s phone for me.”

  “Absolutely. So a trip? Not a bad idea. Might be the best thing to lift your spirits. May I ask where you’re going, or am I being too nosy?”

  Shannon hesitated before answering, suspecting her friend would disapprove of her answer. The disapproval part didn’t bother her, it was the attempt to talk her out of going that no doubt would follow. “To see Michael,” she said finally.

  There was silence on the other end.

  “Hello?” Shannon asked, wary.

  “I’m here,” Clarissa returned somberly.

  “You think I’m nuts.”

  “Not nuts, just—oh, Shannon, are you sure this is wise?”

  Shannon let out a rueful little laugh. “No. I’m really not.”

  “Then why do it? There are plenty of nice men here in town, men who are stable and well-rounded and everything you could ever want.”

  “I want him.”

  Clarissa’s frown was practically audible. “Why? Because he’s handsome?”

  “Because I like who I am when I’m with him.” Shannon stared at the wall before her, seeing Michael’s face instead and the way he had looked at her that night at the football field. “And I think maybe he could feel the same way about me.” She felt a flicker of warmth at the memory, and hope.