Sidelines (Wounded Hearts #1)

by S. M. Smith

  He leans back, stunned. “You have nothing to be sorry for. You’ve been very upfront from the beginning. I’m the one who keeps pushing this.”

  I shake my head and look up into those beautiful eyes, feeling every ounce of his tenderness and affection.

  “I’m sorry I can’t tell you I don’t feel the same. If I could…maybe it would be easier—”

  His fingers grasp my jaw, their tips brushing the hair at the nape of my neck. With just a shift of his wrists, our gazes crash into each other and there is no holding back. His lips graze mine—once, twice. Not able to take it any longer, my arms tighten, pulling him closer. Swimming in the need to let this out, the kiss deepens. Warmth spreads from the top of my head to the tips of my toes, a calmness I’ve never experienced before while being kissed flooding into every nook and cranny of my soul. Time stops and the only thing that matters is the two of us at this moment.

  And then it’s all over, all too soon.

  “Logan. Allie? You guys down there?” Lucy’s soprano voice rings in my ears like a shotgun, but my sense of urgency to hide what’s really going on here is nowhere to be seen.

  “Yeah, Luce. We’ll be right up. Just give us a minute,” Logan shouts to her without loosening his grip on me.

  “Okay,” she sings, the back screen door crashing closed to signal her retreat back into the house.

  Laying my head on Logan’s shoulder, I do my best to muster up some sort of will to walk away. My voice catches when I try to speak, giving my heart away. “Logan…”

  “I know,” he breathes into my hair. With one last kiss to my hair and one final rub of my back, he steps back, his fingers grazing my waist before falling to his sides.

  “I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t be.” A pained smile pulls at his lips and he shakes his head. “I’m not.”

  With a little relief and a whole lot of regret, all I can do is nod and take the first step back to reality.

  ***

  Thunder rumbles softly in the distance, as does my stomach. My belly is so full. Mostly because, in a valiant effort to keep from staring at Logan from across the table, I kept stuffing my face full of the delicious dinner I helped Jillian and the girls make. Then when Logan asked Drew to take a walk with him outside after they cleaned their plates, I couldn’t help but inhale one cookie after another while I watched them talk. I couldn’t tell what they were saying from the kitchen window I propped myself against, but when they turned around and started walking back toward the house, Drew reached out to pat a blushing Logan on the back, I felt the twist in my heart start to loosen. The tension between the two seems to have all but dispersed, and everyone is feeling it as we lounge around the porch. The overjoyed look in Jillian’s glossy eyes as she swings with Sam at the end of the porch has her two sons, sitting in the matching wicker seats, blushing. Emma all but melts into Owen’s arms as they lay against the thick pillar on the porch railing, Emma and I sit toe-to-toe on the wide steps, Hank sitting on the step below me with his chin resting peacefully in my lap.

  “Do you smell that?” Lucy asks after throwing her head back and filling her lungs full of the country evening air.

  Emma giggles. “Isn’t it wonderful?” She looks up at Owen with love so thick in her eyes, it almost hurts to watch.

  “I’ll sleep like an angel tonight,” Jillian coos to her husband.

  “What is it?” I ask, searching all the girls’ faces. Before any of them can answer, a fat raindrop lands on the hand resting on top of Hank’s head. His nose turns to the sky and a second later he hops over my outstretched legs as if he never had any hip problems. By the time his chunky back legs hit the top step rain drips from the sky, starting a beautiful symphony only nature could play, a number that begs to be danced to. As if answering its call, Emma hops off the railing, kisses Owen’s cheek and bounces down the steps, turning with outstretched arms to Lucy and me the moment her bare feet hit the grass.

  “Come on!” she squeals, pulling us both up and spinning us into the light shower. Letting the water wash away all the stress of the last couple of days, I let the ecstasy of the giggling girls seep in to the lonely corners of my mind. The pounding of my raw heart starts a rhythm in my ears, the giggles of Logan’s sisters joining in for the melody, and the longer I stand there letting the rain rinse the last of the flour off my raglan t-shirt, the more I feel the dance that is fighting to burst out of me. Kicking off my sandals, I let the prickle of the wet grass tickle my feet as I lift my arms in the air and just dance to the beat of my own drum. Spinning and twirling around, Lucy bumps an elbow into my arm and before long we’re nothing but a mess of soggy shirts and slippery limbs. At some point, we all fall to the ground, giggling so hard it’s hard to catch our breath. The rain lightens up, but dainty little dribbles splatter on my face as I stare up at the gray sky. After a few moments, I sense the girls standing and retreating to the house but the numbness of laying bare and broken on the grass is more appealing than standing and facing another day feeling like I do.

  “Do you need help up?” Logan’s soft voice slips over me, causing mixed reactions.

  “No, I’m just not ready to yet.”

  He shifts and his shaggy dark hair slips over his forehead as he looks down at me. A small smile pulls at his lips as he reaches out a hand for me. Longing for his touch just one more time, I take the hand and let him pull me up. He holds out a towel and wraps it around my shoulders before shoving his hands deep into his pockets.

  “You looked like you were having fun.” His deft fingers rub my arms, the slightest pressure sending flutters to my gut.

  “I was.”

  “Good.” He nods and starts to turn but decides not to and turns back to me, placing himself in front of me so that I’m blocked from the audience still sitting on the front porch. “About earlier…”

  “Don’t.” I can’t help but whisper. “Don’t apologize, please.”

  He leans down, putting us at eye level, those penetrating sea colored eyes digging into me with everything he has. “I wasn’t going to apologize.”

  A pleased smirk pulls at my lips. “Good.”

  His face contorts to match mine and we stand there, staring at one another for a moment longer, just soaking up the moment.

  “Would you like me to take you back to the inn?”

  “I don’t think it will help our case any if I show up with you after having snuck out in the first place.”

  He runs a hand through his hair, looking down at my bare feet. Wishing he’d just scoop me up in his arms again, I pull the towel tighter around me.

  “I’ll get Lucy to run you back then.”

  He turns and takes a couple of steps before turning back around. “Oh, I almost forgot. I got us an appointment with Coach Ryan. I can pick you up—” I give him a sad look before he stops. “How about you just meet me at the high school a little before eleven?”

  “I’ll be there.” He nods and turns back toward the house, picking up my sandals as he goes. He lays them on the porch and calls for Lucy. I say my goodbyes, thanking Jillian again for inviting me into her kitchen while I wait for Lucy to come downstairs. She reappears, donning a dry pair of yoga pants and an over-sized Walker Rangers t-shirt tied in a knot at the hip, keys in hand. I turn to follow her back to her car but just as I’m fixing the towel over her passenger seat, I hear Logan call out from the porch.

  “Hey, Allie.”

  Looking up, I see him leaning against the pillar Owen and Emma have vacated, Drew still resting in the chair behind him, but his parents must have followed Owen and Emma back inside. “Yeah?”

  “Thanks for the goodies.”

  My jaw drops open as Drew starts to howl and Logan plasters a knowing grin over his handsome face.

  “What does that even mean?” Lucy asks, her youth allowing her an innocence I wish her brother was better at portraying.

  “Trust me, you do not want to know.”

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

&nb
sp; Walking down the halls of Walker High makes me reminisce about my own high school experience. I can still hear the crashes of slamming locker doors, the chants in the hallways on homecoming week and the feeling of knowing everyone but never really truly knowing anyone. I wonder if I were to go back and do it all over, would I have put forth more of an effort in making friendships that would last? Would I have BFFs that I could still call on days like today and gush to them about the handsome wide receiver who kissed me in his parents’ basement and makes me feel all warm in fuzzy inside? Would I have someone who would console me for getting in something that will take everything within me to walk away from and tell me everything will be okay?

  Standing in the middle of where everything started for Logan makes me feel like I’m completely surrounded by him. Although there are no posters lining the wall campaigning “Lassiter for homecoming king” or repping his number and cheering him on for the next game, I could still totally see them. If only we’d met at a different time, under different circumstances.

  “Hey, there you are.”

  I hadn’t realized I was standing and staring into a trophy case until his voice pulls me from the depths of my own lonely mind. He smiles adoringly as he reaches his hands for my chin, but I turn back to the case and point to the picture of him standing with a younger Drew and two other boys.

  “Who’s the cutie?”

  He gazes at me out the side of his eyes, but I hold in my smirk. “Well, that would be me—”

  “No, not you. The little guy with the cheesy grin.” He scoffs and I can’t help the guilty grin. “I’m kidding.”

  He rubs a hand over his scruffy chin, mild amusement in his eyes. “That would be Henry. That’s his big brother Scottie standing on my right.”

  This rare photograph where a younger Logan is actually smiling captivates me to no end. “You guys were close.”

  All three boys have an arm wrapped around each other, decked out in grass stained baseball pants and dusty red Ranger’s jerseys.

  “We were. That was taken Drew’s senior year right after we took state.” He points to a picture in a frame sitting in front of a folded flag just under this one, a man standing at attention in dress blues, while a young woman pins something on his jacket. Another picture of the same man and woman cradling a baby girl smile from a frame opposite it.

  I look up to see several newspaper articles lining the back of the case. Several cover the drafts in which Drew and Logan were enlisted to their respective teams, but another boasts of a Henry Price with a Cre8ive Enterprises and his multi-million dollar entertainment firm that donates to organizations all over the world. The same young man with the goofy grin smiles from the aging article explaining how 10 percent of the royalties from his newest video game are being donated to various organizations that help veterans get back on their feet when they return home from being at war. I step back and finally notice the “Hometown Heroes” banner that hangs at the top of the case.

  “Wow. You guys are kinda famous.” I glance his way and see him staring at the pictures in front of the flag. “Hey, what’s wrong?”

  He looks up as my hand makes contact with his arm, giving me a thoughtful glance before turning his attention back to the pictures in the case.

  “Nothing. Shall we?” He turns, holding his hand out for me to hold. The image brings fluttering to my stomach. When my fingers tangle with his, warm and strong, a giddiness I’ve never felt consumes me.

  We meander our way through the deserted halls toward the gymnasium, Logan filling me in on which classes he took and where. When we approach another trophy case outside the gym, I have to tug on his hand to make him stop. A shy blush colors his ears, making him look like a little boy whose grandma just pinched his cheeks. Checking out the trophies inside, I understand why. Every plaque regarding football and baseball has his name on it at least three times. Even the basketball plaque calls out his outstanding performance his sophomore year. A Rattlers helmet faces a Spartans helmet in the case and a second pass through all the plaques speak of Drew’s dominance in his fair share of sporting events as well.

  “Quite the impression you two left on your alma mater, huh?”

  He smirks quietly, placing his hand on my back to redirect me away from the case. “Come on, we’re a little late.”

  We find Coach Ryan reading from a clipboard to a small group of high school boys. Every teenage boy’s head perks up the moment we step into view, their focus a little more determined than a few moments ago. Coach Ryan seems to feel the change and peers up at us, a pleased smile lighting up his face.

  “Gentlemen, let’s begin our sprints inside then we’ll take our drills on the field. Let’s go.” He tweets a whistle and not a single kid slacks off or slinks behind. Clearly they want to show off for Logan. “Miss Mooreland, Logan, I’m so glad you could make it today.” He reaches a tanned hand out and we each take our turn to shake it.

  “Sorry we’re a little behind this morning. Allie got caught up staring at old pictures.” His boyish grin makes me want to swat at him, but I remember my professionalism and keep my hands to myself.

  “Seems to me like Logan has really downplayed his impact on the community. Walker High seems to have placed him on a bit of a pedestal.” Logan’s lighthearted features tense up.

  “Aw, Logan has always worked hard to earn any time in the limelight. I’ve never met a more dedicated athlete, even as young as he was when we first met.”

  Getting Coach Ryan to open up about his experience with Logan is so much easier than getting Logan to talk about himself. But getting Logan to stand there and listen to the praises his old coach sings about him proves to be quite the challenge. He tries to step away from the conversation two or three times, but each time Coach Ryan fact checks him on his receiving record or has to rely on Logan to remind him of which teams they played each year they took the baseball team to conference championships. Logan looks like he’s about to have all his teeth pulled by the time Coach remembers that the high school boys are still doing suicides.

  “Why don’t we move this out to the field, Coach. These boys look well warmed up.”

  Coach Ryan glances at the boys as if he’d totally forgotten about them. “Of course. Couldn’t talk you into running a few plays with them, could I?”

  Logan glances my way, catching my excited grin. I’d never pass up a chance to see him play football, but to see him helping out aspiring kids…oh, be still my heart!

  “I could probably run a play or two.”

  Coach tweets his whistle again and Logan ushers me out the gym doors and toward the playing field as if it hasn’t been years since he made this same trek. When we get far enough away from Coach and the teenage boys, I feel Logan lean in.

  “I’ll do these drills on one condition.”

  I turn a cautious eye to him. “A little late to be trying to negotiate terms now, don’t you think, Lassiter?”

  He presses his lips together smugly. He may be right in assuming that I am be putty in his hands.

  “I’ll run these plays if you join me for lunch.”

  I almost sigh. “I really don’t think it’s a good idea for us to be seen together in public.”

  “I think it’s a fantastic idea. So does Emma.” He stops at the edge of the running track that wraps around the football field, pulling his sunglasses on as he looks out on the field that started it all for him. “Emma says the more we’re seen together in a platonic way, the quicker the rumors will die down.”

  “Or the more creative the rumors will get.” I try to keep my voice down, remembering that we’re still in the middle of an interview and there are teenage boys who are notorious for stretching the truth over locker room banter. “Before we know it, I’ll be sporting some photo-shopped ring. Or worse, a swollen belly.”

  Logan’s jaw flinches as he draws in a deep breath through his nose.

  “It’s just lunch, Allie.” His gently prodding tone soothes my heightening nerves,
and although every warning bell in my head is blaring at me to say no, my heart speaks for itself.

  “Alright. Just lunch.”

  He suppresses a small smile as he takes off in a jog toward the field.

  “But I’m getting photos of you playing with the boys,” I shout at him. He turns around and jogs backward.

  “You’re pushing it, Mooreland.” And I could have sworn he just winked at me.

  ***

  Logan’s hand guides me back to our vehicles as I flip through the shots I captured of him with his old coach and the upcoming starters for the Walker Rangers.

  “Did you get anything you could use?” he asks as he pulls his keys out of his pocket.

  “Oh, I have more than I really need, so I’m going to have to narrow it down to just a few I can put in a collage.”

  “I’m glad. Totally worth it.”

  I glance up to see what he’s talking about to find him smirking at me.

  “What?”

  “Getting lunch with you is totally worth having to play with those kids.”

  I frown. “You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

  He starts to open the passenger door to his truck before he realizes the car parked next to him is my rental. He leaves his hand on the handle as he looks down at me with an inscrutable expression.

  “It’s not a bad thing at all. Those kids put 110 percent onto that field today. Not one of them took it easy on me.”

  “You know why they did that, don’t you?”

  “Because they value the practice,” he says, matter-of-factly. It makes me smile.

  “They value the time with you.”

  He glances up over the top of my head and shakes his own. “I’m not—”

  “Don’t. Don’t devalue yourself like that. It wasn’t on some whim that you were placed in the ‘Hometown Heroes’ showcase, Logan. These people look up to and admire you. I hope you see that.”

  When his focus turns back to me, I can feel his shaded gaze jarring into me.