Adam hadn’t seen anyone play basketball so badly in years. Within ten minutes, Kyle was sucking wind like a chain-smoker running a marathon. Within twenty minutes, he’d finished his water bottle and had to excuse himself to refill it. He was almost never in a position to take the ball, and when he was, his ballhandling was comical, all flapping hands and elbows stuck out at odd angles.
It wouldn’t surprise him to find out Kyle was one of those kids who was always picked last in gym class.
And what had possessed Ben to invite him to play? True, they’d been short a man, but surely there had to be someone else who would have been a better choice.
Kyle’s obvious lack of skill didn’t mean that Adam went easy on him. He was here to play. He crowded around Kyle when the other man had the ball, like he would any other opponent. If Adam brushed against Kyle as he stole the ball away and charged toward the net, it was to rattle him. It was the rush of competition, and not the sensation of Kyle’s skin on his that made Adam’s nerves stand on end.
“What is your problem?” Kyle snapped after one particularly aggressive takeaway. His chest heaved, and his hands were braced on his thighs as he glared up at Adam. Adam told himself he wasn’t watching the way Kyle’s throat worked as he gasped. He wasn’t noticing the way sweat plastered Kyle’s purple Welcome to Night Vale T-shirt across his chest.
“No problem.” Adam dribbled the ball across the floor.
Kyle followed. “I thought this was a friendly game.”
“I was being friendly.” Adam smiled. Rebecca liked to say his smile was positively carnivorous.
“Then what the hell was that?” Kyle gestured behind them.
“Don’t know what you’re talking about.” Adam shot the ball through the hoop. It went through with a satisfying swish.
He was being an asshole.
He didn’t care.
“Why don’t we call that a game?” Ben said.
“Our time’s not up yet,” Adam said.
“Yeah, and you guys are up by fifty-seven points,” Ben said.
Relief was painted all over Kyle’s face, but he straightened up and glared at Adam when their eyes met.
“Whatever. We’ve still got ten minutes left, so I’m going to play for ten minutes.” Adam signaled Ryan to pass him the ball, then came at the net for a layup. He ignored Ben and Kyle as they left.
“What’s got you all worked up?” Ryan asked as he rebounded the ball.
“What? You want to call it quits too?”
Ryan held up his hands in surrender and backed away. Shaking his head, Adam took another shot, which bounced off the rim and landed on the floor with a thump. The rest of the guys picked up their things over by the bleachers.
Adam practiced his three-pointers, repeating them over and over for ten minutes. He wanted to wipe away the thoughts that rattled around his head: the anger on Kyle’s face when he’d caught Adam watching him, the coolness of his skin when Adam had reached into his space and swiped the ball away. Adam hadn’t reacted to anyone this way since he’d moved to Red Creek. Reacting to Kyle, of all people, was going to be a problem.
After ten minutes, he was calm again. He headed to the locker room to shower and change. He’d apologize to Ben and Ryan. He’d get over whatever it was that was going on in his head that made him an asshole every time he was within speaking distance of Kyle Fenton. His apology was half-composed as he fumbled with the locker combination and caught a movement out of the corner of his eye.
Kyle stood there, wrapped only in a green towel.
Adam’s apology vanished as he took in Kyle’s body. He was thin but not skinny. His skin stretched tight over muscle and bone, his body nearly bare except for a small patch of fine brown hair between his nipples and another line of hair that started at his navel and trailed down below his towel.
Shit.
Adam turned and reached into his locker like he was on an archaeological dig. His ears flamed. He’d been ogling Kyle, which broke rule number two of the guy code. But he couldn’t help himself when he risked another glance toward Kyle, who had his back to him to rummage through his own locker. It only gave Adam a chance to admire the way the muscles in his back rippled, and then Kyle stepped into a pair of checkered boxers and hitched them up under the towel.
Fuck.
Adam contemplated banging his head against the locker, but that would draw further attention than he already had for leering at Kyle in the first place. He swore and went off to the showers.
Kyle was gone by the time Adam got back. He dressed quickly and was ready to breathe a sigh of relief when he heard Ben call his name as he headed toward the exit.
“Are you going to meet us there?” Ben trotted toward him. Kyle shuffled behind. Adam couldn’t figure out how to ignore them and get the hell out of there.
“Meet you where?”
“Morrison’s. It’s Ryan’s birthday, remember?”
Shit. He’d been so tied up over Kyle’s sudden presence, he’d forgotten. He’d been planning to go, but it would mean staying close to Kyle though. That would only give Adam more time to obsess about what his behavior toward Kyle meant. He didn’t want to do that, but he did like spending time with Ben and the rest of the guys. They were pretty well it, as far as his nonfamily social circle in Red Creek went. He didn’t have a good reason not to go, since the rest of his plans for the day involved going home and working his way through his class’s latest food-group assignment.
“Yeah, I’ll meet you there.” He pointedly kept his eyes on Ben and away from Kyle.
Morrison’s was quiet for a Saturday. The break in the rainy weather seemed to have driven everyone in town outdoors. The group settled themselves around a large table. Adam sat opposite Kyle, so he wouldn’t be too close to him. It turned out to be a bad idea, because instead he could watch him. No one noticed any change in his behavior, because Adam wasn’t chatty like the others. They’d been doing the basketball-and-beer routine for long enough to know that he was happy to sit and let them do their thing. Today it gave him the added bonus of being able to observe Kyle, since he couldn’t seem to stop himself, while the usual post-basketball banter swirled around him.
Unfortunately, the longer he watched, the more he decided he liked what he saw. He liked the way Kyle’s face lit up when Ben made a joke. He liked the Green Arrow T-shirt he had changed into that fit his boyish good looks. He liked how Kyle’s hand ran up and down his forearm when he was focused on someone. He wondered if Kyle was sensitive in the soft place on the inside of his elbow.
Adam caught himself before he wandered too far down that train of thought. As a rule, Ben and the other guys weren’t the most observant group on the planet, but someone was bound to notice how he was staring at Kyle.
“Here you go, guys,” the waitress said as she came up with a tray laden down with food. “One Supreme nachos with extra cheese”—she set the plate between Neil and Ben—“a Smoky Mountain burger, no onions”—for Garrett—“two pounds chicken wings, extra hot”—for Ryan—“onion rings”—for Kyle—“and a Greek salad with chicken, dressing on the side.” She set the plate in front of Adam.
He ignored the smirks of the rest of the group as he picked up his fork. It was part of their shtick; they would always give him a hard time. No one came to a bar to eat salad, they said. But he was just grateful for the vegetables. Cooking was not really part of his skill set.
“So, Kyle.” Neil wiped cheese sauce from his chin with a napkin. “What brings you to our part of the world?”
Mouth full of his onion rings, Kyle’s head shot up, eyes wide. He glanced nervously at Adam, though what Adam had to do with his answer was a mystery.
“My daughter and I moved here last month from Seattle,” Kyle said.
Neil whistled. “All the way out here? And your ex was okay with that?” Neil and his wife had recently separated, and he had obviously made an assumption about Kyle. Adam opened his mouth to speak, but Ben beat him to it.
“Kyle grew up here. His dad works at the hospital. He’s . . . Caroline’s mom’s not . . .” Ben faltered. He patted Kyle’s shoulder.
“Yeah?” Neil laughed. “Did she take everything when she left? I know mine’s hell-bent on keeping anything that isn’t in my truck or my pants. Those she wants nothing to do with.”
Adam fought the urge to kick Neil under the table. It wasn’t Adam’s place to tell the asshole that Kyle’s wife had died, but he didn’t want to listen to Neil dig himself in any deeper. Kyle lurched up from the table. Adam nearly asked if he was okay, but then Kyle fished a cell phone out of his jeans.
“Excuse me.” He stabbed at the screen and mashed the phone to his ear. “This is Kyle. Hey, Eva. Yes, it’s okay. I’ve got time.” He headed for the front door, talking the whole way.
Adam shook his head and turned back to the table. Most of the group had returned to their food, but he caught Ben eyeing him. Adam picked up his fork and concentrated on his salad.
The table was quiet as they ate. Eventually, Ryan started moaning about the chicken wings. Every time they came to Morrison’s, Ryan ordered two pounds of extra hot wings, then he’d sweat and huff like he was tiptoeing across burning coals. He never finished his order. Garrett would roll his eyes. Neil would call him a princess. The same thing every week.
Except this week there was an empty seat between Ben and Ryan with an untouched basket of onion rings. No one said anything about Kyle’s disappearance, but after another few minutes of Ryan’s chicken-wing ritual, Adam started to wonder. Years of teaching had given him a sixth sense about people taking longer at tasks than was necessary. It was an important skill when dealing with easily distracted six-year-olds.
“Should we be worried about your friend?” he asked Ben, but Ben shook his head as he scooped up another nacho.
Ten minutes later, Ryan tapped out at a little over half his plate of wings. The rest of the guys were already sitting back in their chairs, nursing their beers. The mystery of where-was-Kyle ate at Adam. He did the only thing he could think of; he pulled out his wallet and threw a couple of bills down on the table. “Gotta go.”
He found Kyle outside as he rounded the corner of the building and headed toward the parking lot. Kyle was leaning against the wall, his head and shoulders resting on the brick. His phone was clutched against his body with both hands, and Adam wasn’t sure he was breathing.
“Everything okay?” Adam asked, keeping some space between them.
Kyle blinked and focused on him. He had amazing brown eyes. “Hmm?”
“Everything okay? With your call? You’ve been gone a long time.”
Kyle wet his lips and shook himself like a dog. “Yeah! Yeah, everything’s fine. It’s work, you know? Work’s crazy.”
The conversation died. Of course Kyle was fine. There had been no great mystery, no need for Adam to swoop in like a superhero to save the day. Adam wasn’t being considerate; he was being nosy.
“Well, I’m headed out,” he said. “I guess I’ll see you around the school.”
“Yeah.” Kyle’s cheery smile was looking increasingly forced by the second. “Yeah, I guess so. I’ll tell Caroline I played basketball with Mr. Hathaway. She’ll love that.”
The fact that Kyle insisted on calling him Mr. Hathaway was grating on Adam. “Yeah. I’m sure she will.” He gave Kyle an awkward wave, but he’d only taken about four steps when Kyle spoke again.
“Do you ever . . .? Do you ever wonder . . . how . . .? How we wind up where we do? All the things we do that lead us to where we are? You know?” Kyle’s smile had gone nervous at the corners. He stuffed the cell phone back into his pocket.
“I’m not sure—” Adam started, but Kyle continued over him.
“I mean . . .” He glared at a point over Adam’s left shoulder. “I look at me and Caroline and my dad, all living together in my dad’s house. And I see Ben, with his house and his fancy cars and his pretty wife and perfect girls. You know? And I wonder what’s so different about us. How he’s gotten to that and I’m back at my dad’s driving that piece of junk.”
Adam followed Kyle’s gaze to the van he’d seen Kyle and Ben leave the community center in earlier. It was hard to miss, a rusty tan-colored minivan whose best days must have passed fifteen years ago. He didn’t know what to say.
They stared at each other, brown eyes on blue, for what felt like a lifetime, but it was probably only a few seconds. Then Kyle twitched and pulled himself upright.
“Sorry,” he said. “I don’t know where that came from. You kick my ass in basketball, and I pour my heart out to you in a parking lot.” He laughed. The sound was closer to a sneer.
“It sounded like you needed it. I know you and Caroline have had a tough go of it lately.”
Kyle’s sneer turned to a scowl. “Where did you hear that?”
“Caroline told me.” Adam left out the parts where he’d gone hunting for details in Caroline’s file, or said more than he’d wanted to with Rebecca. The answer seemed to satisfy Kyle anyway, because some of the tension left his shoulders. He sighed and ran a hand through his hair.
“Sorry. Since we’ve been back, it feels like everyone knows our story. Being the center of an entire town’s attention is unnerving.”
Adam knew that feeling firsthand. It was one of the reasons he had worked hard to keep a low profile since coming to Red Creek.
“I’m not much of a talker. Or much for prying into other people’s personal lives. But if you ever needed . . .” There wasn’t a way to finish the offer without sounding patronizing, but Kyle seemed to get his meaning. He gave Adam a half smile.
“Thanks. We’re doing okay. I’ll see you later, Mr. Hathaway.”