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Grayson’s hand moves from the fence post he’s leaning against and twirls a piece of my hair between his fingers. “There are some things you never forget.”
I breathe in, closing my eyes. I want so badly to lean into him, let him hold me in front of everyone, but I know that’s only going to make things worse.
31
EVIE
The game starts uneventfully after a drawn-out national anthem and speech by the mayor about the charity event. I watch Grayson through it when they welcome him home and for serving his country. He’s polite and says thank you, but what strikes me as odd is the way Grayson stares at the American flag. It’s like he’s off in his own world, remembering a time he won’t share with others. I know something happened while he was in Iraq, but he’s yet to say.
With his arms crossed over his chest, Shane stays in the dugout and keeps his distance from Grayson and Ethan, who shows up before the first pitch is thrown.
After the third inning, and helping out in the concession stand, I’m fucking dying. I can’t take it any longer. I have sweat in places it shouldn’t be. The sweatshirt has to go. Either that or I’m about to start convulsing from heat stroke and, believe me, I briefly contemplate heat stroke over taking this goddamn sweatshirt off.
With Shane here, it seems like a dumb idea to be flaunting myself. Not to mention, I still have bruises and bite marks on my body. It’s obvious that I’ve gone through something traumaticrecently and taking my shirt off to display it, what’s that going to prove?
Trying to be sneaky about revealing so much skin, I turn my back to the field and slip off the sweatshirt. I haven’t even gotten it over my shoulders before Frankie whistles. I don’t know why, but I twist around to see if Grayson has seen or not.
Yep. He’s staring at me in the middle of a game.
Flopping down in the chair, I attempt to use the hoodie as a blanket but it’s too late. Everyone has seen already. My eyes lock on Grayson, curious what his reaction will be to me half-naked. There’s no reaction but his brow is furrowed in what looks to be maybe confusion? Annoyance? I can’t get a good read on it.
“I can’t believe you made me wear this,” I whisper to Frankie, pulling the hat down lower on my head.
“You look amazing,” she assures me.
Kelly frowns, eyeing Frankie. “Yeah but don’t you think it’s a little revealing for the circumstances?”
Frankie stands. “I’ll see if I can find a shirt somewhere.”
“It’s okay.” I grab her hand and motion for her to sit down. “I’m fine. The hoodie will cover me.”
The pitch is thrown and apparently Grayson isn’t paying attention because it’s a line-drive right at his leg. Consequently, the ball ricochets off his shin and then toward second base.
“Fuck,” he growls, jumping around in obvious pain and then leans over, rubbing the spot.
“Eyes on the ball, man!” Ethan shouts from left field, laughing.
Grayson flips his hand back at Ethan, as if to tell him to shut up, but it’s the smile he sends my way that has me blushing again. It’s crooked and still has that boyish edge to it I can’t resist.
Okay, so he was looking at me.
Hoping the heat from my cheeks wanes, I position the sweatshirt over my stomach to hide what little I can of myself.
“Looks like someone likes what he sees,” Frankie teases, handing me a diet Pepsi she’s dug out of the cooler.
On the field, Grayson runs his hand through his hair and then replaces his baseball hat, his eyes on first base as he limps with each step.
My heart pounds faster. “Shit, did he hurt himself?”
Frankie looks back at me, and then Grayson. “Looks like it, huh.”
He doesn’t leave the field though and after a few minutes, walks normally.
It’s then I see why. Shane emerges from the dugout.
With his eyes down, he approaches the plate. I watched Shane play every Thursday night in the fall baseball league for Larson Landscaping. He hits right to shortstop every time, never fails.
This time Grayson has his eyes on Shane.