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Thirty
Henley
I’ve missed this. I didn’t even realize how much until it became a part of my routine again. The smell of fresh-cut grass. The warmth of the sun. The way it cuts through the thin October air. There’ll be snow on the ground by the end of the month but not today.
Today belongs to baseball.
“Did you see that kid fly?” Declan shouts, lowering the loud boom of his voice at the last second because there are still kids and parents on the field and we’re at least supposed to pretend to be impartial role models. Despite the effort, his voice carries and draws the attention of more than one opposing team father. As soon as they see where the remark came from they all look away and let it go because just a casual glance at Declan Gilroy tells you everything you need to know. He’s absolutely not someone you want to mess with.
“Like he had wings,” I say, my face splitting in the kind grin that threatens to crack it in half. My gaze shifts away from him, following the wave of raised arms, hoisting and carrying my runner on their shoulders, chanting her name. Running my tongue over my front teeth I can still feel it, even though my tooth has been fixed and perfect from years. The sharp angled chip of it when I run my tongue along the edge of my tooth.
“I wish I’d been here for the whole season,” I say on impulse, the grin on my face turning into a wistful smile.
“There’s always next season.”
I look up at Declan, still next to me, his wide, towering frame blotting out the sun. These past few weeks we’ve settled into a casual friendship. Like with Tess, there are things we don’t talk about. We don’t talk about his brother. We don’t talk about Jessica. We don’t talk about Tess and we don’t talk about the past. The way he treated me. How he hated the fact that his brother spent time with me.
Did everything he could to pull us apart.
We especially don’t talk about that, because that’s a string neither one of us want to pull.
But he just picked up the thread and gave it a tug.
My mouth opens, words rising in my throat.
Mind your fucking business.
You know I can’t stay.
Why the hell would you even care?
Maybe I’ll come visit.
I have no idea what’s going to come out, but I never get the chance to find out because my mystery tirade is cut off by the loud and sudden rumble of a car engine. It draws my attention because even though I’ve only heard it a few times I know what it is.
I know who it is.
Conner.
Across the neighboring ball field and adjacent parking lot, I watch a mean-looking muscle car creep from its hiding spot in the back row, under the low-hanging branches of a tree.
“Is that Con?” Patrick says, coming to stand on the other side of me, his face aimed toward the parking lot.
“Do you know someone else who drives a flat-black, 1971 Hemi Cuda?” Declan laughs because he knows the answer is no.
“Why didn’t he just come watch the game instead of—” He stops himself from finishing another stupid question. He knows why Conner didn’t come watch the game from the stands. We all do.
Because I’m here.
I reach up and adjust my hat, tugging it low over my face. I can feel it baking in the sun. My freckles multiplying like gremlins. I watch Con’s car exit the lot and roar off down the street, the quick flash of brake lights winking in the distance.
I haven’t heard from him since the night I stayed over.
I’m in love with you, Henley. I’ve been so goddamned desperately in love with you, for so fucking long, that I can’t remember what it feels like not to love you.
I sat there for what felt like forever, staring at my hands, my heart hammering against my chest so fast and hard I could feel tiny cracks spider across my ribcage with every racing thump.
One moment I was paralyzed and the next I wasn’t. Suddenly terrified, I bolted off the bed and scrambled into my clothes because I couldn’t be there anymore. The thought of still being there when he came out of the bathroom was… I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t face him. Not with his blood on my hands and those words between us because I love him.