Team Player

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Team Player Page 83

by Adriana Locke


  He shoves the door open, the muscles in his arms flexing as he holds it. “You all right out here?”

  “Yeah.” I wince, tucking my keys in my pocket. “My alarm is faulty. Probably a recall or something.”

  “I bet.” He tries to hide his amusement, but fails. “Wanna come in? I mean, I’m assuming you weren’t coming this way to do laundry.”

  Blushing, I walk past him and into the gym.

  “Do you know Megan McCarter?” he asks.

  “I don’t think so. I’m Kallie Welch. Nice to meet you.”

  “You too,” she says in a way that lets me know she doesn’t think there’s anything nice about meeting me at all.

  “Wait, McCarter? Are you related to Molly?”

  “She’s my older sister,” she says, eyes glued to Cross. “Want to show me that move one more time? I think I forgot it already.”

  “If you forgot it already, you aren’t going to remember it next week either,” he replies. “I think that’s it for us today. Good work.”

  “I…” She looks at me, then back at Cross. “See you next week.”

  We wait as she takes her time gathering her things, including a glittery pink water bottle, and heads out. Once the room is free of her noxious perfume, Cross speaks.

  “What brought you down here?”

  It’s the question I asked myself on the car ride here, the one I still haven’t answered. All I know is I thought of him all evening and dreamed of him last night. There was no awkwardness in my dream, no feelings of anything other than happiness. I woke up wondering how much of that was just the dream and how much of that was reality. It was hard to tell the two apart.

  Shrugging, I look around the room. One half is set up like a gym with treadmills and free weights, and the other has mats and a makeshift boxing ring elevated in the corner. The walls are white with posters of motivational sayings hanging here and there. It’s impressive.

  “Guess I just wanted to see what you were up to,” I say finally. “Is this place yours?”

  “Yeah. I opened it a couple of years ago. Have another one in Fairview too.”

  “Really?” Turning a small circle, I take in every little detail. “That’s amazing. Is it just a gym?”

  “Just a gym.” He snorts, heading to the mats. “It’s definitely not just a gym, thank you.”

  “How do I know?”

  “You don’t, until you ask.” He winks. “It is a gym. People pay a membership fee to use the facilities, but I also train a couple of amateur fighters and have a boxing program for kids. That’s really my favorite thing. They love it for the love of the art, you know? Not because they can whip ass in a bar or flex around town.”

  “You used to do both things,” I point out, moseying my way toward him.

  Leaning against a wall, his face sobers. “I did. I still do, if it’s warranted, but that’s not what I’m about anymore.”

  The way he speaks the words, the level of sincerity in his tone…it has my heart swelling in my chest. It’s a reminder that I don’t quite know this man anymore and it raises a host of questions, including how different he just may be now than he was when I left.

  “What are you about these days, Cross?”

  “I’ve settled down some, I suppose. Don’t interface with the law much these days.” He grins. “I work a lot, either here or over at the Fairview gym. I do some online coaching and personal training sessions.”

  “Like with Megan?”

  He shoves off the wall, a twinkle in his eye. “Like Megan,” he goads. “Did that bother you?”

  “What? Megan? No,” I insist, brushing it off. “Why would it?”

  “Just an inkling.”

  “Your inkling would be wrong. How is it my place to have any feelings about what you do in your business?”

  “It’s not.”

  It’s a simple statement, two little words that pack so much of a punch. It’s not. It’s not the words that irritate me so much; it’s the reason for needing them. Even as I stand here inside his gym, even though I feel this link to Cross and have since I saw him yesterday inside Crave, he’s nothing more to me than somebody I used to know.

  “I don’t train many women,” he says, picking up a couple of towels along the mats. “I only agreed to three sessions with Megan because someone bought them for her birthday. She has one more next week and then it’s over.”

  “You aren’t training her any more than that?”

  “Nah. She knows it. It’s ridiculous, really. She doesn’t want to know how to box any more than I want to know how to bake a cake.”

  Laughing at his analogy, I grab a few dumbbells off the floor and put them back in the rack. “I’m glad you found something to do with your life that makes you happy. I always worried you’d float around and get stuck doing something you hated.”

  “Come on,” he teases. “You were really worried I’d end up in jail or on your couch.”

  “True.” I giggle, turning to face him. “But I like this version of you, all grown up.”

  “Well…” He blows out a breath. “You can thank yourself for that. If you’d have stayed here, I don’t think I ever would’ve realized what a punk I was.”

  “You weren’t a punk.”

  “I was. I did whatever I wanted and had no plan for going anywhere. Then you left and I realized…” He looks at me and then at the floor. “I realized I’d already lost the best thing that would ever happen to me.”

  There isn’t a reply to that. I just hold a breath and watch his beautiful eyes soften.

  “So,” he goes on, “one night I decided I was going to do something with myself, and if you ever came back, maybe I could show you I wasn’t a loser.”

  “What if I never came back?”

  “Honestly? I’d have been a little relieved.

  “Gee, thanks.”

  “What?” He chuckles, motioning for me to follow him. “Is it wrong that I would’ve found relief in knowing I wouldn’t be falling in love again?”

  I stop walking. “What if I did come back?”

  He pauses too and turns around. Running a hand through his thick, silky locks, his cheeks redden. “Then I’d fight like hell to get you back.”

  “You’re just being charming again,” I whisper, knowing it’s a lie as soon as I say it. There’s no denying the stripped-down emotion on his face, the crinkle in his forehead just between his eyes. The corners of his lips flicker, almost pulling into a smile, but not quite.

  “Come on,” he says, turning away. “Let’s teach you how to throw a punch.”

  Chapter 6

  Cross

  It’s a gamble, a big risk, one I’m not entirely sure is going to pay off, but one I feel absolutely sure about making.

  Taking the steps two at a time, I press my finger on the doorbell. Footsteps fall against the hardwood floors on the other side before the door pulls open.

  My chest fills like it does every time I see Kallie. I fight the stupid smile that plays on my lips, but it’s no use—I’m grinning like a fucking loon.

  “Hey,” she says, her fingers playing at the hem of her shirt. “What are you doing here?”

  “Well, I was driving by Carlson’s a bit ago and saw they had Cobb salad on the sign. I thought maybe we could grab a bite to eat.”

  “You remember that I like Cobb salad?”

  “With extra avocado and bacon, no egg, right?”

  Her eyes light up as she grins. “Yeah.” She laughs. “That’s right.”

  “So, wanna go?”

  She looks over her shoulder before turning her attention back to me. “Um, sure. Let me get my shoes and purse and I’ll meet you outside, okay?”

  “Sounds good.”

  In a few minutes, we’re sitting in the cab of my pickup and heading down the road.

  “My shoulders are sore,” she says, working her arm in a circle. “How do you punch all day and still have use of your extremities?”

  “You get used to
it. Do it long enough and your muscles get built up.”

  “That explains a lot.”

  I look at her quickly before turning my attention back to the road. “That explains what?”

  “Your arms,” she gushes, wrapping a hand around my bicep. “They’re ridiculous, Cross, and your back. Is that from boxing?”

  “Been checking me out?” I love that she’s looked hard enough to take notice.

  “No. Well, yeah.” She smirks. “It’s kind of hard not to. You look good.”

  “And here I thought it was my charm drawing you in.”

  She smacks my arm before pulling her hand away. “Your charm is better, but it’s still not your forte.”

  “So you only want me for my body? That’s what you’re saying?” I joke.

  “No!”

  “I mean, it’s okay. I have no problem being wanted for my body—none. I’ll strip right now if it’ll help.”

  “You’re too much.”

  Chuckling, I pull the truck into the parking lot of Carlson’s. We climb out and meet at the front then, without thinking, I take her hand in mine. Her small palm is delicate and fits inside mine like it was designed for this purpose alone. I expect her to pull it away, but much to my surprise, she just looks up at me and smiles.

  Once inside, we take a seat next to the front windows. Before I can get a word out, Veronica is halfway across the building. “Kallie Welch!” she squeals. “I haven’t seen you in ages!”

  “Hi, Veronica.” Kallie gets to her feet and greets Veronica with a hug. “How are you?”

  “Better now that I’ve seen you,” she says as Kallie settles back in. “Where have you been? Are you home now?”

  “Yeah, I’m home now. Cross saw you had Cobb salad on the menu for today and picked me up.”

  Veronica raises a brow. “I see. You and Cross back together, huh?”

  “Oh, no,” Kallie replies quickly, shaking her head. “No, not like that.”

  “And why not? Have you seen this boy lately? He’s a catch, Kal. Every girl in town has tried their hand with this one.”

  “Should I walk away for a while? Because this is a little awkward with me sitting right here.” I chuckle.

  “Every girl, huh?” Kallie puts her face in her hands and watches me. “Do tell.”

  Shaking my head, I grab a menu out of the holder and flip my attention to the words on the plastic. “I’ll have a ham and Swiss on sourdough, cheddar and sour cream chips, and a pop. Kallie?”

  “Cobb salad and a water.”

  Veronica disappears into the back after whispering into Kallie’s ear. Once she’s gone, I breathe a sigh of relief. “So…”

  “So…” she says, taking my menu and sliding it back in its spot. “Did you have a lot of clients today?”

  “None as fun as you,” I say with a wink.

  “Oh, I bet. I was a barrel of fun.”

  “What did you do today?” I ask, watching the sun stream onto her face. It creates a halo effect around her blonde hair, which seems fitting.

  “After I left you, I had lunch with Nora. Ran into Peck at Goodman’s—he hasn’t changed a bit.”

  “Nope. He’s the same thirteen-year-old boy he always was.”

  She laughs, relaxing back in her seat. “I hope he never changes. He’s so sweet and kind and handsome.”

  “Do I have competition?”

  She doesn’t answer, just rolls her eyes.

  Plates of food are set down in front of us, Veronica making small talk with Kallie about her mother and once upon a time when Kallie worked at Carlson’s. I don’t touch my sandwich. Instead, I watch the girl in front of me act like she hasn’t been gone a day. On the other hand, it seems like she’s a completely different person.

  Her old soul is still there; that hasn’t changed. It’s one of the first things I fell in love with. Her ability to think clearly and make good, solid choices was something I couldn’t do, and it drew me in like a magnet. It didn’t hurt that she was gorgeous, made straight As, and was the captain of the cheerleading team.

  “What?” she asks, catching me staring.

  “I was just thinking about you.”

  She stabs a chunk of avocado and pops it in her mouth. “What about me?”

  “Wondering why you really came home.”

  She chews slowly, as if biding her time. The lines around her eyes crease as she considers her response. “I told you,” she says, pausing to take a drink of water. “My job got a little crazy and Sky moved. It was the right time.”

  “That’s not true.”

  “How do you know?”

  Setting my fork down on the side of my plate, I rest my elbows on the table. “You don’t have to tell me anything you don’t want to. I don’t care, as long as you’re safe and you’re here. That’s all that really matters.”

  “I’m fine, Cross. Safe and here,” she says, extending her arms to the side as if to say, Look! Here we are! “Maybe I just…” Her arms fall to her sides and she takes a gulp of air. “Maybe I got tired.”

  My heart twists in my chest and I reach for her hand. She allows me to take it. I turn it over, palm up, and press my thumb in the middle.

  “I’m not complaining,” she says quietly. “I don’t want it to come across as a pity party, but I’m just tired. I’ve worked my ass off since I was fifteen years old.”

  “I know. No one can ever say you’re a slacker.”

  “Not with a straight face.” She sighs. “I loved my job in Indy. It was exciting and challenging and something different every day. When my boss was indicted, it shook me to the core. I had no idea he was doing anything wrong,” she insists. “All of a sudden, what little time I did have was spent with investigators, telling them everything I knew so I didn’t get in trouble too.” She takes a napkin off the table and dots the corner of her eye. “I couldn’t eat, couldn’t sleep. My stomach was in knots. I remember sitting on my bed one night at three AM and just thinking, ‘Why am I doing this?’”

  Squeezing her hand, it takes everything I have in me not to bolt around the table and sweep her up in my arms.

  Her chin dips down as she removes her hand from beneath mine. I want to snatch it back up, pull her over the table and onto my lap, and kiss the hell out of her.

  As I watch her mind go elsewhere, mine goes back to the original question. “That all makes total sense,” I say carefully. “But it’s not enough to make you uproot your life.”

  She lifts a brow.

  “It’s not,” I insist. “I know you. Something else happened. What was it?”

  Leaning back in her seat, she shakes her head. “Everyone else just took the story and ran with it. Why can’t you?”

  “Because I know you?” I offer, suppressing a chuckle. “Because that look in your eyes wasn’t put there by some boss who did something stupid and caused all these problems.”

  She watches me for a long moment, the internal war she fighting plain as day on her face. Finally, she rushes out a breath and leans forward. “My boyfriend cheated on me, okay?”

  “Boyfriend?” I deadpan.

  “Ex-boyfriend,” she corrects. “Look, it’s not a big deal. Yeah, it bruised my ego a little but—”

  “I’d love to see the girl he cheated on you with.” I laugh, not even trying to hide my amusement. “Or maybe it was a guy—that would make more sense.”

  “Cross!”

  “I mean it. There’s not a woman better than you in the entire world. Maybe there’s a guy.” I shrug. “I wouldn’t know because I’m not looking over there.”

  “But you’re looking at women?”

  “Don’t distract me,” I admonish, wagging a finger in the air. “That’s not what we’re discussing.”

  “Maybe it’s what I want to discuss.”

  “Too fucking bad.” I grin. “So some asshole broke your heart?”

  A shadow drifts across her face as her features soften. “That’s true, but that was a few years ago.”

>   I shouldn’t want to smile at that, but I do anyway. It should incense me that I broke her heart, but I’ve had a few years to deal with that guilt. All I can process from that sentence is what I can read between the lines, and that shit makes me happy.

  She wasn’t in love with him.

  “Yeah, well, you know what they say.” I shrug.

  “What’s that?”

  “If you break something, it’s your responsibility to fix it.”

  “If you break something, you’re generally not trusted with it again,” she tosses back.

  “Oh, come on,” I scoff. “That’s like telling a man he’s not allowed to eat off the good china because he broke a plate when he was a baby.”

  She makes a face. “That’s a terrible analogy.”

  “Whatever. You know what I mean, and I know just what you need tonight.”

  “I bet you do,” she says, narrowing her eyes. “One track mind, Cross?”

  Grinning, I lean forward. “I think we have two different things we’re thinking of, but by the look in your eye, I’m more than happy to go with yours.”

  “What are you thinking?”

  Picking up my sandwich, I take a bite. “Eat up. Then I’ll show you.”

  Chapter 7

  Kallie

  “Oh my God,” I squeal, bouncing in the seat of Cross’s truck. “Storybook Village! I thought they shut this place down!”

  The truck slides into a spot in front of a cutout of a giant shoe. I take in the ducks waddling around and the smell of manure as the engine stops.

  “They did,” Cross says. “I think it was down when you left.”

  “It was. It hadn’t been open for a few years.”

  “Well, this guy named Charlie bought it and opened it back up, last summer, I think. I thought maybe we could play a round of putt-putt.”

  Like a kid on Christmas morning, I clap my hands. “You’re going down, Cross.”

  “We’ll see, Kallie girl.”

  We get out of the truck and enter through the little doorway where the frame around it is painted like a pirate ship. This was where our class had our senior pictures taken because we’d all spent so much time here in the summers growing up.

 

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