Page 30 of Delay of Game (Norwalk Breakers #4)
THIRTY
ROB
“Fucking hell,” I swore, dropping the knife onto the clay and checking my other hand for a cut.
“You swore!” Mila called gleefully, dancing around the studio before holding out her hand in front of me.
After confirming I hadn’t drawn blood, I pulled my wallet out of my pocket and handed her another dollar. “This is some bull…garbage.”
The stack of dollar bills I’d pulled out of the bank from an unamused teller had dwindled down to five.
“Why can’t we just have adult words and kid words?” I grumbled as I stuffed my wallet into my back pocket.
“Do you really want to talk to the principal again?” Mom rolled out another slab of clay, covering it in plastic and setting it on the rapidly growing pile beside me.
“I didn’t know ‘ass’ was a swear word.” Mila pirouetted at the corner of the table and leapt toward Mom. “It’s just a part of the body.”
“Am I allowed to debate that with the principal?” I asked, earning a frown.
“I will not have my only grandbaby be the class potty mouth,” Mom hissed under her breath. “And it wouldn’t hurt you to expand your vocabulary beyond four-letter words, either.”
“How many more of these do I need to cut?” I asked, picking up the knife again and redoubling my efforts not to slice the shit out of my hand three days before a game.
Mila climbed off the bus an hour ago, and the caterers were in the brewery, setting up dinner for after the team made their steins. All I had to do was cut the damn things, which proved harder and took longer than I expected.
“Those in front of you and five more.” Mom rolled another slab of clay through the press.
“I’m not going to finish in time,” I grumbled. Worse, I’d waste the next three hours helping a bunch of jackals build steins and then spend the next three days applying slip and coils to ensure their steins didn’t crack.
“Gracie should be here any minute to help.”
My ears perked. “Astrid? She’s coming here?”
I hadn’t seen her since the disastrous day with Fieste, but her words will rattled around in my head.
You aren’t acting like you want me.
I tipped my head back. “Why, exactly?”
“Because she’s another set of hands, and she knows what she’s doing. She can help. Besides, I like her, and I thought you did, too.”
I did like Astrid. That was the entire problem. I liked her so much that I made piss poor decisions, like acting like a goddamn high schooler around her.
“Ms. Evans is coming over?” Mila crowed. “I’ll have someone to play with.”
“She’ll be helping the players, sweetie,” Mom said. “Besides, we need your help, too.”
She nodded, bouncing foot to foot. “I can help. I’m a very good helper.”
“Hello!”
I straightened, focus off the knife and onto the doorway as Astrid walked through.
She wore a faded pair of overalls splattered in paint over a black crop top that showed a small patch of skin on either side that my fingers itched to touch.
She beamed, cheeks pink and teeth bright white.
Her mossy green eyes fixed on mine only for a moment before Mila launched at her knees.
“Ms. Evans!”
“Hey, Mila.” Astrid sank down as Mila monkey gripped her shoulders, pulling her legs around her waist. “How was the ride home from school?”
“Boring. Daddy wouldn’t play ‘Johnny was a troublemaker.’”
“Am I supposed to be encouraging songs about trouble making?” I asked.
Astrid grinned, and my bad mood melted away.
“Hey, captain!” Fieste’s entrance ruined that good mood almost immediately.
“Fieste. You’re early,” I said, turning back to the stack of clay sheets.
“I gave Gracie a ride.”
I fumbled with the knife, nearly cutting myself again. “You what?”
Fieste shrank. “I gave her a ride?”
“He picked me up from school. My car died last night and Lily gave me a ride this morning. It’s out of her way though, so Ethan offered to drive me here.” Astrid released Mila and stood up, tucking her hands into her pockets.
“You could have called,” I said between gritted teeth.
“Oh, you haven’t introduced me yet, Rob.” Mom’s hands fluttered as she wiped away dried clay and crossed the room to Fieste. “I’m Gloria, Rob’s mom.”
“Ethan Fieste. Nice to meet you, ma’am.” His voice turned syrupy sweet as he took my mom’s hand. The fucker.
“Fieste? You must be new to the team. Why don’t I show you around?” She took Fieste’s arm, pulling him out toward the kiln yard. “Mila, honey, did you leave your bike out here? You better come with me and get it off the lawn.”
Mila cocked her head, still holding onto Astrid’s hand. Reluctantly, she let go and followed Fieste and mom out into the backyard.
“That was subtle,” I grunted.
“That’s subtle?” Astrid’s eyes widened. “You nearly bit Ethan’s head off just for giving me a ride.”
“Fieste,” I emphasized his last name, hating hearing his first name on her lips, “didn’t have to give you a ride. We live just down the road. I have extra cars. If you’d just called me when your car broke down?—”
“He was around.” Astrid scooped up an extra knife off the table and pulled one sheet of clay onto the table beside mine. “It’s not a big deal.”
He was around. My stomach clenched. I sucked in a breath, counting to three before I let it out again. “What does that mean, ‘he was around?’”
“Do you have a second template, or do we share?” she asked, ignoring the question and searching the table.
“We share,” I responded, handing over the wall piece and taking the bottom for myself. “So, what was he doing at your place?”
“I didn’t say he was at my place.”
“So, he took you out?”
“I didn’t say that, either.” She cut around the wall stencil and set it on the table between us. “Are you jealous?”
I straightened. Yes. I was jealous as hell. I was miserable, and I hated that I’d ever introduced them. “No.”
“Okay.” Her fingertips brushed my knuckles as I reached for the handle stencil. My heart stopped and my hand stilled as she danced her fingertips down the back of my palm and over my wrist. “Then it shouldn’t matter why he was around.”
She pulled her hand away, the loss leaving me off balance. I gripped the edge of the table, steadying myself. “What are you doing tomorrow?”
“Normal Saturday things: grocery shopping, laundry, catching up on bad TV.”
Nothing that involved Fieste, thank fuck.
“Want me to come over? What’s next on the house list?”
She kept her eyes on the slab of clay, gliding the knife over the edge of the stencil. But her lips pursed, body tensing. “Not much. I sanded the walls after work this week. A few coats of paint and I think the house will be ready to list. Just in time for my parents to fly in.”
Shit. Where had the time gone? I tallied back to when I first met Astrid. Soon, I wouldn’t have any reason to see her anymore besides parent-teacher conferences. Or if she dated Fieste.
“When are they coming?”
“This weekend. They’re staying for ten days, which is more than enough time to sort through the last of the photographs and heirlooms and sign all the paperwork with a realtor. Mom is looking forward to spending some time with Aunt Mercy, too.”
“They’re staying with you?” I asked, all too aware that they would. Scratch off swinging by her house. Which wouldn’t even be her house soon. “Where will you go once it’s sold?”
“Lily has a spare bedroom. She lives downtown, so it’s a bit of a commute. I’ll look for my own place after that.”
So, not only would I have no reason to see Astrid anymore, I also wouldn’t be close enough to stop by, even if I had a reason. She’d be downtown. Closer to Fieste, closer people her own age. Still, the information rotted in my stomach.
“That’s great,” I said with no conviction.
“Is it?” she sighed. “It feels sort of like everything’s falling apart when it should feel like it’s all coming together.”
My throat constricted. “Once the walls are painted and the furniture is back where it belongs, that’ll change. We can knock that out this weekend.”
“I watched your game last Sunday. You looked great.” She set down the stencil in the center of the table, careful not to brush my shoulder. “Nice win.”
Despite Coach Simmons’ change up, we had a good game. A nail biter of a win, but a win.
“Do you think this is helping?” she asked, setting aside a slab of cut clay and grabbing another.
“I don’t think it’ll make things worse,” I admitted. “It’s certainly not hurting.”
Coach Simmons swapped a handful of players out with their practice team counterparts and surprisingly, hadn’t caused a riot. If anything, the team seemed more even-keeled.
“And our next game should be an easy win. We need it.” I cleared my throat, eager to change the subject. “How’s Aunt Mercy?”
She smiled, eyes skittering to meet mine as she let out a laugh. “Good. She’s asked about her Jimmy a time or two.”
“I need to get back out there.”
Mom, Mila, and Fieste filtered back into the studio, interrupting the peace in the pottery studio once again.
Before Astrid and I even had the last of the slabs cut, my teammates joined us, and any expectation of talking to Astrid again was out the window as I answered dumbass questions like, “Why can’t I make my handle a snake?
” and “Can I carve a wolf into my stein?”
By the time we’d collectively made over sixty steins, not only was I starving, but exhausted. Using Mila as an excuse, I fled back to the house and put her to bed in relative silence, only to find Astrid and Fieste gone when I returned.