Caught Looking

by Holford, Jody;

“Can I get you a drink or anything?”

  “Why don’t you get his autograph, dad?” the blond boy sitting at the table beside Miles asked in a loud whisper. Ryan thought maybe whispering was a skill that didn’t come until later in life. The other kid was probably a couple years older than Miles. Nelson blushed and Ryan smiled affably.

  “It’s not a problem,” he said.

  “You sure?” Nelson asked, his eyes lighting up. Ryan nodded and laughed as Nelson left the room.

  “Well, you’ve just made his night. Sorry I didn’t recognize you,” Sue said.

  “Don’t say sorry for that. Really,” Ryan said. Not being recognized at every turn was starting to be enjoyable. Now that the town was somewhat used to his presence, he thought, eventually, he’d really be able to settle in, like any other guy. Any other guy who had made a disgrace of his career, his marriage, and his friendships.

  Sue poured milk into small glasses and set out a tray of cookies. Both boys grabbed one, showing Ryan that Miles felt comfortable enough in this new home. Place. He’d help Frankie get them home. From there, he didn’t know what would happen, but he knew he wanted these people to have a place in his life. Whatever it ended up looking like, with baseball or without, he didn’t want to give them up.

  “Would it be all right if I talked to Travis and Carter?” Ryan asked, pushing his hands into the pockets of his leather jacket. Sue nodded.

  “I’ll show you their room,” Miles said around a bite of cookie. Bouncing off of the chair, he took Ryan’s hand and pulled him down the hall. The outside of the house was deceptive. It was far roomier than he would have thought.

  “You doing okay here, bud?” Ryan asked. He could hear bass pounding through the door they passed on their way to the end of the hall. Opening the door, Miles looked up at him.

  “It’s okay,” he said, shrugging, looking so much like his brothers. Ryan rubbed a hand over Miles’s hair.

  “I’ll be back out in a minute. Go eat your cookie.”

  Miles ran back down the hall and Ryan walked into the narrow, rectangular room. Two sets of bunk beds and two dressers filled most of the room. Carter was leaning against the wall on the top bunk, closest to the window, looking out at the dreary sky. Travis was reading on the bottom. Neither looked at him.

  “I wanted to tell you that Frankie is doing everything she can to get you boys back,” he began.

  “On her own?” Carter asked, not looking over.

  “I’m doing what I can to help her, yes. Have you started the classes and practice yet?”

  Carter turned his head lazily and replied without any inflection. “Don’t see why it matters to you, but yes on the classes.”

  “What about practice?”

  Carter looked away again and refused to look back, even though Ryan tried to wait him out. Jesus, had he ever been this moody as a teen?

  “Coach said he can’t play on the team if he doesn’t have an address in catchment,” Travis said, keeping his eyes on his book.

  “Shut up, Travis,” Carter spat. Ryan walked over to the bunk bed, wrapped his hands around the wood railing, and waited for Carter to look at him.

  “You still want to be on the team?” Ryan asked. It was a good thing he was looking directly at him because Carter simply nodded. His lips pursed tightly and Ryan was selfishly grateful the kid didn’t look at him—he didn’t know if he could handle the emotion he would see there.

  “Show up for the next practice,” Ryan said, turning to leave.

  “Coach said—”.

  “Just show up. And both of you be a hell of a lot nicer to Frankie than you were to me when she comes to visit.”

  He shut the door behind him and walked back to the kitchen where the boys were still at the table, but now they were playing cards. Miles laughed and it helped Ryan feel less like shit that he had to leave. Nelson walked toward him with a baseball glove. He tapped the worn, brown leather with the black sharpie and handed it to Ryan.

  “This is so cool.”

  Ryan smiled tightly, signed his name in the curve of the palm and handed it back to him.

  “Is it okay if I come back to visit the boys? Frankie will want to come too,” he said to both of them.

  “Of course. We know this is difficult for you and your wife,” Sue said. Nelson groaned.

  “You and Frankie got married?” Miles yelled.

  Ryan turned. “No, sport, we did not.”

  Miles nodded then said, “‘Cause we ain’t there and you can’t get married without your best mans.” His words, the innocence in his voice, and his simple logic punched Ryan in the throat. It felt hard to breath and when he responded, his words were broken.

  “That’s right.”

  He said good-bye to Sue and Nelson. Nelson was still giving Sue evil looks for her mistake, even though Ryan had said it was fine. Back in his truck, he rested his head against the seat and shut his eyes. He knew that he’d date after Victoria. He wasn’t sure he’d trust anyone again and had no plans of letting anyone into his heart. Instead of just getting into his heart, Frankie had gotten under his skin and he worried that might be worse. She was becoming part of him in a way no one else ever had. He felt like she was literally woven into the fabric of who he was becoming and God, he loved the feel of her in his life, in his arms.

  It was impossible not to trust her because she wore a damn library of emotions on her sleeve. Even when she was trying to hide her thoughts, she burst out with some cliché that exposed her, which drove her nuts, but made him laugh. She made him laugh. And ache. And want. And scariest of all, hope. If that weren’t enough to make him feel like he had a steel toe to the chest, the way he cared about the boys did. He wanted them to be okay. Needed them to be okay and he couldn’t help but feel that just like Ryan, those three boys were meant to be with Frankie. His phone buzzed and he smiled. He was turning into a sap. He needed to hit the gym or grab a six pack or something.

  “Hey. How are you?”

  “I’m okay. I wondered if maybe you wanted to go see a movie or something later. I’m going stir crazy,” Frankie said.

  “Sure. But no chick flicks,” he warned, starting the truck.

  “Deal. What time will you be ho—back?” she asked.

  “I just have one more stop and I’ll come over. Or you could meet me at my house,” he answered, not missing the way she’d avoided saying home. He liked her in his house. He liked the way the scent of her body scrub and lotions lingered in all of the rooms. He liked seeing her sweater draped across his bed. Or on his floor. He liked her in his space. He sighed into the phone. He just plain liked her. Too much.

  “Okay. I’ll meet you there.”

  They hung up and he drove from the foster home back toward West Lake. He let music fill the cab and as Sam Smith sang about not liking one night stands, he couldn’t help but agree. The more time he spent with Frankie, the more he was certain that he was exactly where he was supposed to be. Which meant he needed to make some decisions. Or at least return some phone calls.

  Chapter 27

  Thick raindrops pounded the gravel parking lot when he pulled into West Lake High. He could see the kids running laps, the lights shining down on the bases making the dirt look orange. He trudged over the gravel and moved around the fence to where he saw the coach and his assistant watching the boys run. The wind was picking up so they didn’t hear Ryan’s approach.

  “Hey there,” Ryan called out. Both men looked over. The coach, who was wearing a cap that said “coach” across the brim, was heavy enough that Ryan didn’t think he joined the boys during workout sessions. The other guy was long and thin, like a twig, his ears jutting out of his head and his messy hair hanging in his eyes. Probably in his twenties, he didn’t look like he was a player.

  “Closed practice,” Coach said. Ryan kept walking until he was standing in front of them, the overhang of the dugout protecting them from the rain.

  “I just came to talk to you about—”.

&nb
sp; “Holy hell on a stick. Ryan Walker,” Coach beamed, grabbing Ryan’s hand in his meaty ones and shaking his entire arm.

  “Yes. Nice to meet you…”

  “Graham. Graham Marsh. Coach. Stuart, you know who this is?”

  “Uh—Ryan Walker?”

  Coach gave Stuart at disgusted look, shook his head, and smirked at Ryan.

  “Youth. If it isn’t in a video game, they’re oblivious,” Graham said, finally releasing Ryan’s hand. Ryan looked at both men. Stuart didn’t look very impressed at the coach’s words.

  “Can I bring the guys in, Coach?” Stuart asked, his eyes still on Ryan. Coach Marsh nodded and Stuart left, blew a whistle, called the boys in, and led them toward the school.

  “You guys aren’t practicing outside,” Ryan stated, hoping that the coach was smarter than that. He didn’t see any equipment outside though so the boys were likely just doing some conditioning. He couldn’t see much of them as they shuffled into the open gym doors, dripping, caps pulled down tight.

  “Nah. Buggers back talk me, they run. Youth have no respect these days,” Marsh said. Ryan felt a slow simmer of irritation rise and tried to ignore it.

  “It can be a long day, juggling school, practice, and all the rest of it,” Ryan said neutrally. He didn’t miss those days. For him, the rest of it included pulling his piece of shit father off of his mother or looking for him when he’d gone on a bender. Ryan had hated the small piece of himself that always wished he’d never find him. That his dad would just disappear and take the stress out of his life.

  “I’d trade their long days with my life any time. Kids got it too easy these days. Anyway, Mr. Walker, what can I do for you? Let’s get out of this rain,” Marsh said, placing a hand on Ryan’s shoulder as they walked to the gym.

  “Ryan. I came to talk to you about a player. Carter Wells. He enrolled in distance education so that he could play on the team. He’s in grade eleven and was hoping to play for the last two years of school. He’s good.”

  “I know who he is. Didn’t realize you knew him. Told him earlier this week that if he isn’t living in catchment, nothing I can do. Once you do one a favor, they all want one. I’m sure a superstar like you knows that.”

  A headache began to creep up Ryan’s neck, settling in the base. The gym was bright and the boys had moved to different stations, most in their T-shirts and shorts. Their wet over clothes littered the gym as they worked in small groups, some batting, some catching, and some pitching.

  “The thing is, he’ll be back in this catchment soon enough. I’ll vouch for him,” Ryan said, watching the pitcher. The kid wasn’t squaring up. He needed to follow through, all the way across his body. Still, the ball sailed and the bat connected with a satisfying smack. Ryan felt like Pavlov’s dog with that sound. It made him want a bat in his hands. The catcher bounced on the balls of his feet, crouched and ready, caught it with another thwack, this time in the glove, then sent it back to the pitcher. Back and forth, a perfect line, Ryan thought.

  “You can guarantee that?” Coach Marsh asked, his wide face not masking his doubt. Ryan couldn’t guarantee anything but he was going to work like hell to make it happen. There hadn’t been anything in his life that he couldn’t make work when he’d put his full weight behind it. Except his marriage. But he was beginning to realize that maybe he hadn’t been all in. He’d left a little of himself in reserve, just in case things went south. Because maybe he’d always expected them to.

  “I can.”

  “So I let him on the team, then what?” Marsh was looking at him now. His bushy eyebrows rose, bobbing up and down in some sort of weird-ass S.O.S.

  “Then you get an excellent athlete. Your batter isn’t twisting his hips properly. If you want him to have any power behind that swing, you need to teach him how to hit,” Ryan said, unable to not comment and correct.

  “These athletes sure could use some new outfits. School is doing all sorts of cutbacks. Small town, not the biggest priority in the area,” Marsh said. Ryan looked at him, pleased to see his eyebrows had stopped moving.

  “I won’t buy Carter’s place on this team. He’s a good player. He’ll make your team better,” Ryan said stiffly. God he hated the politics…of everything. Coach Marsh patted his shoulder, his face showing mock horror.

  “Of course not! I would never dream of that. I’m just making conversation and telling you, a well-known, successful athlete, that these boys sure could use more. In addition to a talented teammate.”

  Ryan shook his head and wondered if Marsh saw that most of his batters stepped in the bucket. They needed to take smaller steps toward the pitcher. He looked over at the coach and saw that the man was only observing Ryan. He knew how to play more than baseball.

  “I suppose donations are accepted from new community members?” Ryan asked. Coach’s face broke into a wide, gummy smile.

  “They sure are.”

  “Fine. Carter will be at the next practice.”

  “Shame we don’t have enough assistants. We could have us a real good team come spring if we had more. Especially, say, if one of those assistants knew the game inside and out.”

  Ryan’s jaw tightened. He’d promised himself he wouldn’t fall into anymore traps, get caught up in anything sports related that didn’t suit him, didn’t make him happy. He was done doing things for others. But, that had been before he’d met Frankie. The boys. They did make him happy, even if he wanted to wipe the smile off Marsh’s face. And aside from all the shit that had gone down, Ryan loved baseball. He loved watching it, being near it, playing it. He loved the pureness of it. And he wanted Carter to have that too. So he nodded.

  “I’ll help out one day a week.” He started walking away, worried he might be tempted to see if the fat coach’s face fit in the palm of a glove. Unlikely. Coach called after Ryan as he stepped into the driving rain, pulling his jacket tight around him. “Looking forward to it, Ryan Walker! Looking mighty forward to it.”

  That made one of them.

  Chapter 28

  Frankie laughed more than she’d thought possible through the movie. It felt strange to laugh when everything else was up in the air. But she and Ryan weren’t. They were…incredibly grounded. Which surprised her for two reasons: He hadn’t believed he had it in him to offer anything to a relationship and when she’d left Robert, she’d worried that maybe she wasn’t destined to find that one great love. The one that knocked you on your butt and scrambled your head and your heart in the best possible ways. She leaned into Ryan and felt sixteen again, snuggled up against him, both of their hands finding the popcorn. They shared a soda, which he drank most of, and at one point, he leaned over and nuzzled her ear. He made her forget what the movie was about, particularly when he whispered into it. “We could just go make out in my truck.”

  “Shh.” Frankie smacked his arm and laughed, but she was tempted. Even spending every night wrapped up around him, as close as she could get without physically crawling inside of him, she craved more. It was that sweet and sexy time in the relationship, where snuggling in bed and seeing each other in pajamas was still cute. Ryan’s pajamas were more than cute. He slept in low-slung boxers that usually ended up on his floor. Yes, the nights were good.

  In the morning, she’d wake, inhaling his soap and his unique sexiness and she’d feel bliss. Then the cloud that hovered would descend and she’d remember that she was missing something. During the days, she’d been writing, readying the house, and trying not to fall further in love with Ryan Walker. He’d been steady and sure in every moment that counted this week. Since she’d known him, really.

  Ryan played with a lock of her hair, pulling her close so he could nuzzle his face in it again. He’d accepted the boys as part of her, accepted everything that had been thrown at him and he still didn’t see what a good man he was. Frankie was scared by the depth of the plunge she was taking. There was a chance that she’d never make it back to the surface. She still couldn’t understand why he’d
want all this. She wasn’t entirely sure she knew why she wanted all of this. But she did know that walking away from any of them wasn’t an option. All of their strings were attached to hers now. They were tied together and the harder she pulled, tried to tell herself that they didn’t need her in their lives, the stronger the knots became. Frankie didn’t know what would happen if all of the strings came loose. She didn’t know what would hold her together without these ties.

  “Hey, you want to watch the credits?” Ryan asked and she realized she’d zoned out. She looked over at him and without thinking, pressed her lips to his, letting her tongue trace his upper lip. When his lips parted, she moved in and sealed her mouth to his, her tongue still dancing with his teasingly. His hand came to her hair and gripped tightly as he leaned into her. When he pulled back, lust had dropped a haze over his eyes.

  “Okay. No credits. Let’s go.”

  She laughed as he yanked her up, barely giving her time to grab her purse and jacket. She pulled it on as they waded up the aisle. He opened the door for her, waited until she was seated, then took her face in his hands again. He came at her slower this time, more deliberately, taking his time, his eyes open as he neared. His thumbs grazed her cheeks as his lips brushed over hers. He sucked her bottom lip between both of his, sending a burst of desire straight to her stomach. She pulled him closer and turned her body to try to trap him with her leg in the open door. He pulled back, laughed, and kissed her nose. He came around his side and they waited in silence while he warmed the truck.

  “I need heated seats in my life,” Frankie sighed.

  “They’re pretty sweet. Your car needs tires,” Ryan said, putting the truck in reverse.

  “I know. Lots of need. One thing at a time,” she replied, closing her eyes, letting the steady bump and hum of the engine soothe her. She felt his hand on her thigh, his fingers spreading wide, squeezing lightly. It sent a shiver through her and made her smile. Carrie Underwood played in the darkness, his hand on her in the stillness, and the glow of his headlights lulling her.