THIRTY MINUTES OF observing Ryan squirm on the couch across from Scott was enough to atone for allowing Ryan to drag me to the marathon game at the ballpark. Scott finally let me go with Ryan only after he threatened to kill Ryan if he returned me with any marks on my body.
I’m not sure if I’ll ever admit it to Ryan, but this has been my best Saturday since being sentenced to hell. On the drive into Louisville, Ryan explained baseball. Most of it I knew, but Ryan somehow made it interesting. The sport came alive when he described a game that’s more than a bat and a ball and some bases. He said it involved teamwork and trust.
As I sit on the bleachers and watch the
game, I appreciate the gracefulness of his team’s movements. A network of signals and HC TITLE-AUTHOR
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glances and unsaid understandings.
What I really find amazing is Ryan. The raw intensity in the way he moves. The strength of his broad shoulders and the power that explodes from his body when he throws the ball. Ryan is a force all his own. A force that pulls me in. An attraction that curls warmth into my body. He possesses a simple touch that’s strong enough to hold me together yet soft enough to make me shiver.
We’re friends. Just friends. I sigh. Even as a friend, he deserves better than me. He seems hell-bent on liking me. Hell-bent on dating me.
Why? What does he gain by being with a girl that everyone else has thrown away?
Chris pops a ball into left field and the other team catches it for the third out. Ryan stands in the dugout and winks at me before taking the field. My answering smile forms in spite of myself. You’re setting yourself up for a world of hurt, Beth. Like when I set myself up with Luke at fifteen. Luke called me pretty. Luke said all the right words. Then again, Luke never brought me to a place as public as this.
Maybe Scott is right. I have a clean slate.
Maybe I should take advantage of it. Maybe I HC TITLE-AUTHOR
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should enjoy the ride while it lasts. After all, I’ll be leaving with Mom soon. Each day that she remains with Trent is one day closer to her death. Today, after the game, Mom and I will work out a plan to leave, but until then, maybe I should enjoy what’s in front of me.
Ryan likes me or at least he thinks he does.
Why am I in such a rush to move on to the next guy who’ll treat me like Luke did or the way Trent treats Mom?
I can be the girl who shows Ryan a few
things. The girl who doesn’t laugh when he blushes. I can be the girl who, in the future, when he’s been married to the good girl and has three babies clinging to his leg, he can remember and smile at the memories. Then he’ll look at his wife and be grateful I left when I did. Grateful he didn’t end up with me.
“Are you Ryan’s girlfriend?” A tall guy
plops next to me on the bleachers and watches as Ryan throws the ball. This dude is close.
Super close. Not touching close, but he has broken the unspoken barrier of how close complete strangers should be to each other.
The skin on my arm prickles. “And you
are?”
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He turns his head and gives me a smile
that reminds me of Ryan’s. In fact, he looks a lot like Ryan, just a little older. “Mark. I’m his older brother.”
Hello. Could this be the brother Ryan was all torn up over in the barn? But curiosity gives way to nerves. I’ve never met a guy’s family and I don’t know a thing about etiquette. “Nice to meet you.” There, isn’t that what proper girls say?
“Are you sure? I’ve seen worms on hooks
happier than you.”
My lips twist up. “I’m Beth and we’re just friends.” Friends who are dating, but I don’t need to broadcast my insecurities.
“Huh,” he drawls. “Ryan doesn’t bring
friends to games. He calls people distractions.”
Not sure how to respond, I focus on the
game. Mark lowers his voice. “Am I making you uncomfortable?”
I might as well be honest. It’s not like I could pass as respectable for long. “Guys who invade my personal space generally make me uncomfortable, but I don’t blame you. Ryan has space issues too. Must be genetic.”
Mark laughs and it’s a boisterous laughter HC TITLE-AUTHOR
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that causes people to stare—even Ryan
from the mound. Ryan’s eyes flicker between his brother and me. A shadow crosses his face as he focuses on Mark. Not liking the hurt he’s wearing, I give him a halfhearted wave and he gives me his heart-stopping smile in return.
Heat creeps along the back of my neck and marks my face.
“Yeah,” says Mark. “You two are just
friends.”
“I didn’t ask for your opinion,” I mutter.
Mark laughs again, but not as loudly. “My mother must hate you.”
I should be insulted, but I’m not. If she ever met me, she probably would. “Don’t know.”
“That’s okay. I like you.”
“You don’t know me.”
Mark gestures to the scoreboard. “We’ve got a few more innings to rectify that. So, tell me, how did you meet my brother?”
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Ryan