by CJ Daly
I glanced down at the plush cotton I longed to wrap around me and
inhale. I slipped it over my head, and it seemed to swallow me whole . An
immediate smirk formed on his lips.
“What?” I began rolling up the sleeves.
“I’ve been wanting to do that all day,” he replied.
“What do you mean?”
“It means I don’t particularly care for the way some of these guys are
starting to look at you.”
I shook my head at him. “Not this again.”
“Hey,” he laughed,” just tellin’ you like it is.”
I couldn’t wipe the smile off my face. My heart—my whole body—
suddenly felt much, much warmer. I turned so that I faced the practicing
football players instead of the wicked gleam in his eye. Leaning against him
seemed like the natural thing to do, but I resisted, leaning over instead to
• 339 •
hug my knees and surreptitiously breathe in his shirt. It smelled lightly of expensive cologne, good health, and something else all his own—essence of
Pete, and it was an electric combination that I could never get my fill of.
“So which one is it?”
I peeked over my shoulder at him.
“The guy . . . the stud you made mention of earlier. I’m assuming he’s one
of those purple jerseys out there.”
I chortled and rocked back on the bench. “I’m not interested, so what
does it matter?”
“Is it Miguel?” he persisted.
“Nope.” He looked like he didn’t believe me, so I said, “He has a girlfriend.”
“Don’t you mean a girl, who’s a friend, but he’d like it to be more?”
I laughed at his convoluted language. “It’s not like that.”
“Hm-hmm.”
We watched as a helmet-head nudged another helmet-head and nodded
our way. He shouted something to Ron, who looked over from his squatting
position on the field. My face burned knowing I was the object of much
speculation and gossip since Pete’s arrival. I usually liked to just fly under
the radar.
“Is it that guy?” Pete jerked his head to indicate Ron. “The big one who
put his hands on your ass?”
Not wanting to stir the pot, I kept mum but had to suppress a smile. It’s
funny how he didn’t recall that was the same “big one” who’d put his hands
on him during the fight.
“Come on, Kate,” he wheedled. “Which number?”
“Why does it matter?”
A broody expression crossed his face. “I don’t know. It just does. Come
on!— tel me. I promise I won’t kick his ass . . . unless you want me to.”
“You know what?—no!” I said, exasperated. “You don’t tell me anything
I wanna know.”
“What? How can you say that? I’m an open book.”
“You mean an open brochure.”
“Okay fine . . . If I answer one of your questions, will you answer mine?”
Yes! Final y! “Deal,” I said, offering up my hand. After we shook on it, I
swiveled around to stare deeply into his eyes, like a weirdo.
Pete laughed at my serious expression and squared up his shoulders.
“Okay, take your best shot.”
“Is Andrew gettin’ accepted to your academy?”
He sighed wearily like I’d missed my mark. What did he think I was
• 340 •
going to ask? Whether or not he believed aliens real y landed in Roswel ? “That’s confidential information,” he said. “I don’t even know yet. I simply submit his test scores and my observations to the committee, and they decide.”
I stared him down for a few seconds. His answer felt right, so I accepted
it. “Fine . . . I’ll ask a different one.” And I knew just the one to ask. It started right at the center of my core, vibrating out until it spilled from my mouth in
a rush. “Do you think your academy is a good organization?”
Lightening-quick, an invisible shutter closed over his eyes. “Absolutely,”
he said, trying at real conviction. “The Academy is not only an elite military
academy, it’s also an organization that caters to gifted children just like
Andrew. Its goal is the self-actualization of every cadet. It also promotes
innovation in science and technology; our groundbreaking discoveries are
enhancing lives every day. And philanthropy is also a big part of our program.
We’ve given millions away to help worthy children from around the world,
who ordinarily wouldn’t have a chance to fulfill their potential. Andrew is
one of the select few to receive an invitation. I think he would thrive in such
an environment and is extremely lucky to have this opportunity.” Pete took
in my neutral expression and broadened his smile.
I blinked. He’d lost me at “absolutely.” His face hadn’t changed from the
open, earnest expression, and he didn’t shift his eyes, but I knew he was lying.
I felt it instantly like someone had dumped a cooler of melted ice over my
head. I shot up from the bench. Guess there was no symbolism to us being
placed on the same team today. We would always be playing for different
teams as long as he was associated with his academy.
He stood up, too, warming my shoulder with his hand. “I’m sorry, Kate.
I wish I could tell you more about whether Andrew will be accepted or not,
but it’s honestly not up to me.” The only sincere words on the topic.
I folded my arms across my chest, deep breathing in the intoxicating scent
of his shirt. I knew I should take it off and give it back to him, but all I really wanted to do was take it home and use it as a pillowcase. I moved a couple of
steps away from him.
He gave a throaty chuckle. “You may want to tuck that shirt in . . . it
looks like you’re standing around in nothing but a very short dress.” He was
trying to smooth things over with his signature blend of humor and flirtation.
This only reminded me of that night when the same thing happened with his
jacket, and Ranger said I looked like a flasher. Shortly after, I’d overheard their little convo about his mission here being as easy as taking candy from a baby.
I started to simmer.
The shrill of the whistle signaled the end of P.E. and our useless
• 341 •
conversation. Wordlessly, I watched all the players come rolling in from the field.“You never got around to telling me what number,” he said, closing the
distance to murmur along my neckline. “Come on . . . a deal’s a deal.”
Suddenly, I couldn’t take anymore contrived flirting, wanting him to
final y get real with me. Wrenching off his shirt, I threw it at him. “Number twenty-three,” I said, picking a random number I’d just noticed wasn’t out
there.I watched his eyes widen and his hands close around the shirt as it
bounced off his chest, then jogged off to help gather balls and neon orange
cones for Coach Sams. I left him standing there to figure out that I’d just
lied, too. Didn’t have to wait long, because he accosted me as soon as I pushed
through the gym doors.
“What was that about? And why did you lie to me? There is no number
twenty-three.” Pete stepped into pace with me as I bustled to the comfort of
my little hatchback warming in the sun. “Kate?”
Picking up the pace, I tried turning myself into a blur.
He swore. “Great. So now we’re not ta
lking again. This must be some
kind of record for you finding reasons to get mad at me.”
“I never have to look far,” I said.
“What the hell did I do? I have no idea.”
I wound myself around parked cars at breakneck speed with him easily
keeping up. “If you really don’t know, then you have sorely misjudged my BS
detector.”
Ashley-Leigh stopped tapping up-to-the-minute fake updates about her
and Pete to motion to him that she was waiting by his Hummer. Like he
couldn’t see her standing right there. She still acted as if she had a snowball’s
chance in hell with him. On some level, I had to admire her tenacity.
“Looks like your homecomin’ date’s waitin’ on you.” I couldn’t resist a jab.
He snorted. “I don’t have enough fingers to count the ways that’s wrong.”
“Well accordin’ to her, you were gonna reveal some big, mysterious plans
this afternoon.” I nodded over at her, and she waved cheerily like we weren’t
in the middle of a battle. Which I guess we weren’t, because I’d completely
stepped out of the war. “So . . . you’d better get after it.” I stepped into my car and closed the door in his face, then immediately reached over the backseat
for one of Andrew’s hoodies and slipped it on, even though it was too short
and too tight. That reminded me—I was going shopping.
The loud creak of the door being wrenched open preceded Pete plunking
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himself down in the passenger seat. He slammed the door behind him with a little too much force. My car’s windows rattled.
“You break it, you bought it,” I quipped.
He snorted, then threw his head back and laughed, but it sounded all
off—more like he’d finally had it with me than he actually found me funny. I
huffed out a long sigh and turned to face him, worrying about that very thing.
I’d lost my temper . . . again. It’s like I had emotional Tourette’s or something.
Pete also sighed heavily, his head lolling back on the headrest. He closed
his eyes, raked his hands through his hair, made an aggravated throat noise.
Then was quiet except for some weird chuckles that escaped at odd intervals.
I watched him struggle, thinking it always looked like he was a couple of
weeks shy of a haircut for a military cadet. My fingers longed to reach out
and smooth back his hair. I hated being mad at him. I hated him being mad
at me. I hated being on opposite teams. The whole dang thing was frustrating
as all get out.
After a much-needed moment, he found my eyes. “So . . . here we are
again.” Humor clung to his defeated tone.
“Here we are again,” I confirmed sadly.
He shook his head. “What am I gonna do with you, Connelly?”
“Dip me in tar, roll me in feathers, and string me up by my toes?”
A flash of something—that sent a chill through me—darted in and out of
his eyes before it could crystallize. He laughed harshly. “That’s one I’ve never
heard before. I’m going to miss those kinds of colloquialisms.”
I laughed too, a little nervously. Did I imagine that?
“Yeah, I guess you don’t hear that every day round your neck of the
woods,” I said, pulling the conversation back to the problem at hand.
Pete drew in some air and released it, momentarily fogging the window.
“You’re one tough nut to crack, Katherine Connelly,” he stated flatly; it didn’t
sound like a compliment. “But I gotta say,” his eyes returned to mine, “I’m
going to miss you when I’m gone.”
A shadow crossed over my heart. That was twice now he alluded to
leaving. It felt like the airbag just burst from the steering wheel, caving my
chest in. My shoulders actually hunched forward. There was no way to keep
the despair out of my voice, so I didn’t even try.
“So . . . you’re leavin’?”
He sighed, fiddled with the air vent. “Tomorrow.”
I swallowed the lump that jumped to my throat. “Your big, mysterious
plans.” It somehow irked me even more that Ashley-Leigh knew before me.
• 343 •
“My big, mysterious plans,” he confirmed. His eyes seemed as sad as mine, somehow wet-looking though he wasn’t crying.
“Does Andrew know?”
“I’m going to tell him today after tutoring. I won’t be here tomorrow
afternoon, so plan on picking him up from school.”
I did the nod thing, unable to formulate my next question. Maybe not
wanting to know the answer. I stared out the windshield at things I couldn’t
see. “Are you comin’ back?”
“I think so but I’m not really sure. They may have enough information
to make a decision. I’m uh . . . being summoned back for another meeting.”
I wasn’t aware there had been a first meeting. “Why?”
A humorless huff. “I’m not doing a very good job,” he confessed.
“Whadaya mean?” I came to his rescue immediately. “Andrew adores you,
I don’t remember a time he’s been so happy since Mama died, Daddy’s proud
as a PTA mom, braggin’ to everyone that’ll listen about Andrew goin’ to the
‘World’s Most Elite Military Academy.’”
Pete gave me a wry smile. “I still don’t have your father’s signature
of agreement. We can’t continue spending money on a dead end. I’m the
ambassador for the school. If I can’t get the family to sign up for the program,
then I’m not doing a very good job representing our organization. If it looks
like the family, in this case your father, won’t sign, then they pull the plug on
the mission.” (I noticed this was the first time he’d actually used that word.)
“Is that what this meetin’s about?”
“I think so. It’s taking longer”—he gave me another wry smile—“than
we thought.”
“Isn’t Andrew exactly what y’all are lookin’ for?” I argued.
“Yes, Andrew is a very desirable candidate. However, he’s not the only one
in the world. They’ll move on to another potential cadet soon, one in New
Guinea or New Zealand, for example. Or—” he broke off, looking tense.
“Or what?” He shook his head, and I attached myself to his arm. “Tell me,
Pete! I have a right to know. This is my brother we’re talkin’ about!”
He expelled some pent-up air. “They might replace me with another
cadet—a superior with more experience most likely.”
Oh God. “Ranger?”
One sharp confirmation nod. Our eyes met, communicating the same
thing —alarm.
“Noooooo!” dropped from my mouth. “They can’t do that!” Pete’s silence
spoke volumes. “We won’t allow it!” He smiled, a little sadly at me. “I won’t allow it. I would never work another cadet!” I said staunchly.
• 344 •
“I wasn’t aware you’d been working with me,” he said with a little ironic smile. “And let’s just hope it doesn’t come to that.” He moved to get out when
something possessed my hand to clamp onto his arm again.
“Pete, will you get into trouble? You know . . . if Daddy doesn’t sign?”
He shifted his eyes to the milling crowd doing their mass exit. When he
looked back, it was with the warmest eyes; made me feel like my bones were
melting. “I’m touched, Kate . . . I didn’t
think you cared.” He moved to get
out again, but I held him in a death-grip.
“Will you?” I had a feeling this was as bad for Pete as it was for us. That
put a whole different spin on things.
“Don’t worry about it,” he dismissed. “I’m not.” Then he removed himself
from my car and quite possibly from my life.
I watched him go, unable to tear my eyes away from his departing back.
If you can believe it, Ashley-Leigh was still waiting around for him, gleefully
running over and throwing her arms around his neck to dangle like a human
garland. She has some bal s. I hoped she’d get a handful of demerits for being late to practice. Maybe her effort was worth the wait, because I saw him give
her a quick side hug and mouth something to her. Whatever it was, it made
her laugh and glow pinker than her lip gloss.
That was it though. He quickly slid into his truck and drove off with
a courtesy wave out the window. I guess it was enough for her because
she walked away grinning as triumphantly as if she’d just been crowned
homecoming queen.
Pete had that effect on you.
• 345 •
31
BAKING AMENDS
So I went ahead with my shopping spree even though my heart was no
longer in it. I mean, who cared if I looked cute if the person I wanted
to look cute for wasn’t around? But I’d already mentioned it to Mikey.
And Walmart was a place that boy loved with his whole heart, so no way could
I ship out straight for home and chores without hitting the super-center first.
I randomly picked out some jeans and a plaid flannel shirt, the changing
weather outside and the imminent demise of my crush most likely affecting
my choices. Not even bothering to try them on, I headed off to the toy aisle.
Mikey fist-pumped my decision. As I absentmindedly watched him wreck the
display toys, pushing buttons and pulling levers with wild abandon, I mulled
over what Pete had revealed. He’d called me “one tough nut to crack.” That
was the closest he’d come to admitting outright that I was some kind of mark
to be won over, so we’d all feel just peachy about signing Andrew’s life away.
But I’d proven tougher than expected.
This was obviously why they sent charming ambassadors with chiseled
faces—to lure prospective families in like scouts trying to sway sports stars