The Handoff (Big Play #3)

by Jordan Ford

  “She doesn’t seem like that now.”

  I scoff. “No, Martin revived her and then stole her all over again.”

  “Come on, Martin’s a good guy.”

  “Yeah, but he’s not my dad. And Mom is so in love with him. She’s making all these decisions and assumptions solely based around him, like Mack and I don’t matter anymore. She doesn’t see me…and Dad used to notice everything. He always took such good care of me. I was his golden girl, his sweet petunia. Now I feel like I’ve got no one.”

  Why am I opening up to Finn likes this? He doesn’t want to hear my crap.

  His hand is still drawing circles. He’s not fleeing from the room like he should be. I need to shut my mouth and go to sleep, but I don’t want to close my eyes on that face. The dim light is casting a soft glow over him, highlighting his square jaw and full lips. Quiet strength oozes out of him, like he’s not afraid of anything. His calm gaze is so tender and reassuring…like maybe he cares.

  We stare at each other for a moment, locked in this silent conversation that I can’t interpret. I sit up a little and reach for his face, running my fingers over his dark skin. My hand looks so pale and small against him. I wonder what his lips taste like. My gaze travels down to his mouth as I run my thumb along his lower lip, tracing the full shape of it, wondering what it’d feel like on my skin.

  Clearing his throat, Finn shifts away from my gaze, lightly pressing my shoulder and forcing me to lie back down. “Mack does a pretty good job of looking out for ya.”

  “Mack feels responsible for me.” My words sound snappy, even to my own ears. A searing disappointment burns through me; no guy has ever pushed me away before. I should tell him to get lost so I can sleep, but my stupid mouth has other plans and I fall back into trembling voice mode. “He does it out of duty…and now he’s got Kaija. He’ll probably move to New Zealand after he graduates and I’ll be left alone in that big house with my horrible stepbrother and no one to protect me.”

  The word stepbrother makes my voice hitch. The urge to tell Finn the truth powers through me, but I swallow it back. He was right to lean away when I was thinking about kissing him. I can’t get attached when I’m actually thinking of running away.

  Remember, Layla?

  Once I’m better, I’m gone, which means I won’t be stuck in that house all alone. I’ll be somewhere else…all alone.

  The thought feels like a boulder thumping around in my stomach.

  “I’m not leaving Nelson.” Finn brushes a lock of hair off my face like it’s the most natural thing in the world. “I’ll still be here to watch out for you.”

  “Oh, come on, Finn.” I ease away from his touch. “You don’t even like me. You’re just a good guy, doing the right thing. I want to find someone who’ll spend time with me because that’s what they want to do. Because they like my company and they want to hang out, not out of duty, or lust, or status…just because they like who I am. I’m probably never going to find that person, but…”

  I look up, catching Finn’s gaze on me again and suddenly I think that, if I run, I might be turning my back on the only chance I’ll ever have of finding the guy I’ve just described.

  The thought makes my insides jolt and spasm.

  Once again, Finn’s fingers are on my face, tracing soft lines that settle the internal earthquakes. “You know, honesty suits you. You’re really pretty when you’re not trying so hard.”

  It takes me a second to capture his words. They dance through the air, trying to reach me, and when they finally register, I can’t do anything but give him this confused kind of frown. “Is that a compliment? I can’t figure that one out. Are you saying I’m not normally pretty?”

  He chuckles, his white teeth flashing between his lips. “I’m just trying to say I like you better when you’re being you…the real you.”

  The compliment makes me blush and I dip my head, suddenly feeling shy. “I don’t know who that is.”

  “I’m starting to figure it out.”

  I can feel the warmth of his gaze on me and, against my better judgment, I look straight into it.

  “Now, get some sleep.” He kisses my forehead and I close my eyes, relishing the sensation.

  He leans away from me and I search his face, wondering what he’s thinking. He just gives me a soft smile before he starts rubbing my back again.

  “Go on,” he murmurs. “I’ll stay until you’re asleep.”

  My eyes drift shut and I find myself floating away, soothed to sleep by gentle circles.

  When I open my eyes again, a pale morning light is breeching the darkness. It takes me less than a second to spot Finn asleep in the rocking chair. His long legs are stretched out in front of him, his hands are tucked beneath his armpits, and his chin is resting at an awkward angle against his shoulder.

  I study his bare torso and muscly arms, marveling at each curve and bend. I wish I were an artist so I could paint him or maybe draw a sketch, but I have to suffice with memorizing each contour.

  The problem is, the longer I lie here watching him, the less I want to burn it all to memory. Because I don’t want Finn Jones to just be a memory. I kind of like the idea of him being something more, and it makes me sad to think he never can be.

  #18:

  A Walk in the Woods

  Finn

  I hold the cards close to my face, not putting it past Layla to catch me at a weak moment and steal a look. Playing cards with her is like trying to win an argument with my mother—challenging, amusing, sometimes exhilarating, but you go in knowing you’ve lost before you even start playing.

  Her eyes narrow as she stares at her hand. Her high cheekbones are accentuated by the way she’s pressing her lips together, almost like a thinking duck face. It’s cute. I smile behind my cards, enjoying the playful way her eyes dance. She’s up to something tricky.

  It’s nice to see her feeling better.

  It’s been nearly a week since I picked her sick butt off the pavement and walked her into my house. A week. I can’t believe how much my vision has changed in that time. Before the break, I was squirming at the idea of keeping an eye on Layla Mahoney, but she’s been living in my house this whole time and I’m already dreading her departure.

  Who would have thunk it, right? But the last thing I want to do is drive her home on Sunday.

  By then, she’ll be back to her energetic self, fully recovered, and her mom will have no idea what she suffered—or confessed—under my roof. Since her fever broke, she’s been perking up more and more each day. She’s eaten four full meals—well, pigeon meals, but she still finished them—since yesterday, and she looks nearly ready to take on the world again…except for those slight flutterings of anxiety I catch on her face every now and then. It always hits when she thinks I’m not looking, when she’s left alone long enough to get caught up in her thoughts again. Something at home is plaguing her, and I need to find out what it is.

  Layla’s nose wrinkles, and then a broad grin takes over her face as she throws a five of spades into the middle of the table. My eyes narrow. She’s going to let me win this round. But why? She still needs one more trick and I’m… I sigh, my shoulders drooping as I quickly calculate which cards she must have left in her hand.

  I grumble under my breath as I gather the cards and pop them to the side before deciding which one to play next. One of the cards she has left must be a trump, which means I’m destined to win the other two tricks. I’ll be over what I bet I’d get and she’ll be spot on…again.

  I slap down my ace of diamonds with a huff, which forces her to play her queen of diamonds. I win one too many tricks and she cleans up the last round with her king of hearts.

  She lets out this cute little squeal and claps her hands as I mark down our scores on the sheet of paper.

  “I’m never teaching you how to play a family favorite again. You’re creaming me.”

  Layla laughs. “What’s this game called again?”

  “Up and D
own The River, although we should probably change this version to Over The Waterfall.”

  Her dark locks fall over her shoulder as she leans forward and pats my hand with a triumphant giggle. I love how shiny her hair is. She went into the bathroom on Tuesday afternoon looking like a mental patient and came out forty minutes later looking like the goddess she always does. My jaw went slack when she walked into the room and I was seriously worried mushy-brain was about to kick in. But then I looked into her eyes and spotted something familiar. She wasn’t just some hot stranger I was trying to pick up at a party. I knew this girl.

  It probably helped that she was dressed in a pair of my mom’s sweats, which were just a little too short for her, and one of my monster hoodies, which looked more like a trench coat. The sleeves hung down past her fingers, but she didn’t seem to mind pushing them up all the time. In fact, yesterday she pulled the sleeves right over her hands then pressed the material to her nose and sniffed.

  She didn’t know I was watching, and thank God, because I leaned against the wall and just stared at her for about three minutes as she sniffed my sweatshirt and looked at peace for a moment. Unfortunately, the look started to fade as demons began eating at her again. I stepped into the room pretty quick after that.

  Layla shuffles the cards, unaware of my mother bustling into the room behind her.

  “Okay, time to go for a walk outside.” Her hand skims down Layla’s hair, tucking it behind her shoulder like Layla’s her daughter or something.

  Layla’s eyes bulge and the cards spill out of her hands. I’m pretty sure it’s not Mom’s touch that’s jolting her so bad. She swivels in her seat and lifts her chin at my mother.

  “I don’t want to go outside.”

  Her forceful tone is given a pretty swift smack-down. “Excuse me?” Mom perches her fists on her hips and pulls out the pointed glare.

  Layla holds her ground, her fingers tightening on the back of the chair as she slowly repeats, “I don’t want to go outside.”

  I love that she’s hitting back. It means she really must be feeling better. But she still has a lot to learn about my mother if she thinks she can win an argument so easily.

  “Honey, I wasn’t asking. You’ve been cooped up in this house for five days straight. You’re getting your strength back, and you need some exercise. Now, go on.” Mom flicks her thumb at the door, expecting immediate compliance.

  Layla’s lips twitch and she shakes her head.

  “Girl, don’t make me force your butt out that door.” She points her finger at me but keeps her eyes on Layla. “I may be short, but if I can push that elephant out of me, I can sure as heck get your twig legs working the way I want them to. Go for a walk.”

  Layla’s chest deflates and she leans away from my mother, her eyes darting around the room like she’s ready to bolt up the stairs and lock herself in the bathroom.

  Clearing my throat, I lean in to diffuse the situation, gently sliding my hand over Layla’s tense fist.

  “I know this great spot near the lake. Hardly anyone ever goes there.”

  I keep my smile in place until that fleeting look of panic crests over her face, disappearing behind a grateful smile.

  “Mom, can I borrow your car?” I rise from the table and start getting myself ready.

  “Don’t you be driving her all over town. She still needs her rest after this.”

  I snatch the keys out of the bowl on the table and give my mother a smile. Bending forward, I kiss her cheek then hold my hand out for Layla. Much to my relief, she takes it.

  “We’ll be home for dinner,” I call over my shoulder as Mom walks out of the entrance to go and putter in a different part of the house.

  Layla balances against me as she puts her boots on. I like the feel of her small hand in mine. Her fingers are so slender and delicate. She stomps her foot down, then looks at her short, baggy sweats and the hoodie that’s trying to swallow her whole.

  “You swear this place is private?”

  I just smile at her. “Trust me.”

  She gives in with a short huff and walks out the front door. Her eyes scan the neighborhood as we walk to Mom’s car. As soon as she’s in the passenger seat and I’ve closed her door, she ducks down low so no one can see her.

  I give her a quizzical look as I get in and start the engine, but she acts like she hasn’t seen it. I know she has, she’s just playing a little game of skirt the truth.

  “Your mom’s bossy,” Layla grumbles as I reverse out of the driveway.

  I spin the car around and wink down at her. “Yep. But she only bosses the people she likes.”

  Layla makes a face, but I don’t miss the smile tugging at her lips. She stays crouched down in her seat as I drive and doesn’t surface to look out the window until I’m pulling into a rarely used entrance to the park. Navigating the bumpy road with care, I pull the car into an isolated area that few people know about.

  “Where is this place? I thought we were going to the lake.”

  “It’s that way.” I point behind me. “This is a back entrance we found last year. We all swore we wouldn’t tell anyone because it’s such a great spot.”

  “Who’s we?”

  “Me, Colt, Mack, and Tyler.”

  “Of course, the Musketeers.”

  “Weren’t there only three of those?”

  Layla shrugs. “You’re forgetting about D’artagnan.”

  “Of course.” I nod with a grin. “So, which one am I?”

  The beautiful girl beside me pulls a thoughtful face, looking even more gorgeous in the afternoon sunlight. “Well, Tyler has to be Porthos and Mack is definitely Athos, which I guess makes you Aramis.”

  “And Colt’s D’artagnan? He’s gonna love that.” I snicker, opening my car door.

  “No, he’s not,” Layla calls out to me, “because he’s not going to find out I said that.”

  “Why not?” I open her door and hold out my hand to help her. Wrapping my fingers around hers, I pull her out of the car and wind my arm around her waist without even thinking about it. “I think it’s cute.”

  Layla grins, her fingers curling around my arms as she looks up at me.

  I’m suddenly struck by how much I want to kiss her. I think she senses it too, because she ducks her head. I release her immediately, feeling kind of awkward.

  “Okay, so shall we walk?” I scratch the back of my head and meander away from the car.

  Layla runs to catch up with me and we step in time. At first, we wander in amiable silence. It’s kind of nice, actually. All I can hear are the scuffs our shoes are making on the dirt path and the odd snap of dry twigs as my big feet break them. The spring blossoms are starting to show and the air smells kind of sweet. Our arms swing idly next to each other and I keep brushing her arm without meaning to. Each time our fingers touch, I feel this spark travel up to my chest.

  Eventually, I just can’t take it. Holding my breath, I capture her hand on the upswing and curl my fingers around hers. I wait for the pull back, but it never comes. Instead, she gives my hand a little squeeze and we keep walking on like we’ve been a couple for years.

  The thought strikes me as funny at first, but then I kind of like it. I can’t help looking down at her and imagining for a second that she is my girlfriend.

  Layla glances up and catches the look on my face. Her cheeks rise with color and she dips her head, pressing her lips together and looking like a very different Layla than the one I knew before spring break.

  “Don’t look at me like that.” She steps sideways to nudge me with her shoulder.

  “Like what?”

  Stopping short with a sharp huff, she turns to me and shakes her head. “Like someone who deserves to be taken care of.”

  In a flash, her expression changes and I feel the brewing of another raw truth. I’m not going to like it, I can already tell.

  Swallowing down the jitterbugs scratching at my throat, I skim my tongue over my bottom lip and murmur, “Bu
t you do. I like taking care of you.”

  “No, I don’t deserve…” She winces, her face bunching tight. “Finn, you’re good. You’re so good…and I’m not. I don’t deserve looks like the one you just gave me.” Her head tips to the side as she smiles up at me. “Your eyes, they’re so…” Her dreamy expression makes fireflies start floating inside my chest. “They’re going to make some lucky girl very happy one day. Someone sweet and kind…and worthy.”

  “Stop.” I give her a warning look. “You are all of those things.”

  “No, I’m seriously not.” Her head shake is emphatic.

  She tries to move away from me, but I squeeze her hand and gently tug her back. “Tell me what you did.”

  “I can’t.” The words rush out on a panicked breath.

  I step into her space and cup the back of her head, bending low so we’re eye level. “I bet it’s not as bad you think it is.”

  Her eyes round as her head keeps shaking. “Oh, it’s bad.”

  “Got anything to do with Kaija?”

  Layla’s eyes pop with instant tears. “It’s even worse than that. Mack’s never going to talk to me again.”

  “Okay, wait…” I jerk up tall, suddenly hearing her. “You… You posted that stuff about Kaija?”

  “No, but…” Her face bunches and she lets go of my hand, turning away from me. “Apparently, I opened my big mouth and got people asking questions. I still don’t know who did it, but I started it.” She spins back with this anguished look that’s hurting my chest again. “Roxy said I was going off at the New Year’s Eve party, complaining about Kaija and ranting that she had secrets or something. I don’t know what I said, but someone at that party must have dug a little deeper.”

  “Were you drunk when you said it?” My question comes out drier than I mean it to. I kind of already know the answer, so I shouldn’t have even asked.

  Layla’s arms flick into the air and she gives me a what do you think kind of glare.

  I tip my head with a fleeting apology, feeling bad. I remember that New Year’s Eve party. Mack left early and asked Tyler and me to keep an eye on Layla. I lost sight of her and, after a quick scan, I couldn’t see Roxy or Michelle, either. I just assumed they’d all left. I should have taken the time to check the house before hauling Tyler’s drunken butt home.