“Where are we?” she asked.
He let out a soft, sad laugh. “My Little League fields. Whenever I’m strung out, this place makes me feel better for some reason.”
Now she could make out the chain-link fences surrounding the park. Here and there, widely spaced streetlights shone down on the infields—at least four of them. “Did you play select ball?”
“Yeah.” He cleared his throat. “It’s the only thing I’ve ever been good at.”
“That’s not true. You’re good at plants.” She wiped her eyes on her sleeve, hoping he didn’t notice, and added softly, “And winning girls’ hearts.”
Kyle let out a soft sigh. If she hadn’t been straining to hear, she would’ve missed it. “I’m only good at one of those things, Faith. I’m better at breaking hearts than winning them.”
“You haven’t broken mine,” she said, reaching for his hand.
He let her hold it, but he didn’t move to squeeze hers in return. “Yet.”
She shook her head, refusing to let go of his hand. “The Kyle I know doesn’t seem like a heartbreaker, no matter what you, and the whole school, keep telling me.
His hand finally tightened a little on hers. “I’m nothing like you think. I liked playing a part this week, but tonight made me realize that this isn’t going to work. Once we’re back in school, I’ll go back to being…me, and you’re you, so…”
“What are you saying?” Her voice quavered, and she hated it. “Have you been playing me this whole time?”
“No.” His tone was firm. “But Faith, you deserve better than me. After tonight, it’s probably best that we act like we broke up. Blame me, tell everyone whatever you want. I can take the heat. It’ll get Cameron off your back, and things will be better for you.”
She let go and sat back in her seat, feeling like she’d taken a bad fall and knocked the air out of her lungs. “You keep saying I deserve better. But so far, all I see is a really nice guy pretending to be an asshole. Why push me away? So far, we seem to be working out pretty well.”
He flinched. “Nothing is that simple. Look, I’ll only end up hurting you in the long run. If we end it now, it’ll be easier.”
He sounded hurt. Nothing made sense. Nothing. He’d made her believe it all week long, and now he was pushing her away. “I don’t see how.”
He wouldn’t look at her. “I should probably take you home.”
His shoulders were up around his ears, and there were tight lines around his eyes. From the way he crushed the steering wheel in his hands, if she didn’t know better, all these signs said he was upset with his decision.
So why do it? Why put a stop to the beginning of a really sweet relationship? Had she done something so wrong to make him give her the old “it’s not you, it’s me”?
He parked at her curb. Like usual, Dad was sitting in the window, reading. She turned to Kyle. “I don’t why you’re doing this, and I don’t believe the rumors about you are true. I think we could be good together. If you change your mind, I’ll listen. But I won’t wait around forever.”
She got out of the car and slammed her door shut. Despite everything, Kyle waited at the curb until she made it inside. Then he was gone in a sweep of headlights.
Dad stood when she came in. “How was your—pumpkin, are you all right?”
She shook her head. “No. I’d like to go to bed, please.”
“Did he hurt you?” Dad growled.
“Not in any way you’d want revenge for.” She climbed the first three stairs slowly. “He doesn’t want to see me anymore, that’s all. I don’t have any idea why.”
Dad nodded. “Sometimes teenage boys are idiots.”
Tears welled in Faith’s eyes, but she laughed. “You’re telling me.”
“Get some sleep. It’ll look better in the morning,” he said, reaching up to catch her hand. “It always does.”
She nodded and climbed the stairs the rest of the way to her room. Her phone had been vibrating nonstop since they left Dolly’s, but she didn’t have the heart to wade through all the texts and Snapchat notifications. She set the phone to “do not disturb” and crawled into bed even though it was only eight thirty. She doubted Dad’s advice was right, but sleeping off the pain couldn’t hurt.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Kyle
Kyle took every turn on the winding road to his house too fast, screeching his tires and barely keeping control of his car. He didn’t care. He was too hurt, too stupid, too mean to worry about something as simple as keeping the Charger on pavement.