Chapter Sixteen
Mom tried to get me to stay home longer. I let her lull me in for a big breakfast of sausage, biscuits, and gravy, but finally broke free just after ten in the morning. She muttered under her breath the entire time I packed my clean laundry. She muttered as I hugged her and Chelsea good-bye. She even muttered when Dad offered to carry one of my duffels as he walked out to the truck with me. We tossed the overloaded bags in the back and slammed the tailgate closed. Mom stood at the screen door in her bathrobe, chewing on her nails. Guilt dug at me. Mom hated watching me leave, but she did it anyway. I yanked open the driver’s door, and Dad grimaced at the screech of the metal. I really needed to get that door fixed.
“Your mother’s freaking out that you’re getting ready to flunk out of college now,” he said.
I’d made the excuse that I needed to meet with my tutor to go over my paper one last time before turning it in. Truth was Mallory had already read it and sent me revision notes. “I’m not. Not even close, but I do need to make sure I pass this course. If I’ve got a chance to play, academic probation is the last thing I need.”
Dad shook his head. “Whoever she is, boy, I hope she’s worth it,” he said with his face drawn into a frown. “And I hope she doesn’t… Don’t let some girl ruin your dreams.”
“That’s not going to happen, Dad,” I said, forcing myself to stay calm. He didn’t need to go there.
“And I hope you know that your mother will never like her.” Dad grinned, breaking the tension.
I laughed, knowing he was partially right. Mom wasn’t going to like anybody. As if I was going to let that stop me. “As long as you do, old man, we’ll be good.”
He smiled then and clamped his hand on my shoulder. “I’m not the one who has to, boy. Remember what I said, don’t let this girl derail your life.”
I shook my head and slipped the truck into reverse. There wasn’t anything I could say to get it through his head that the only thing that would stop me was death. I was going pro.
Two hours of thinking lay ahead of me, along with the smell of Mom’s leftover Thanksgiving dinner as an added distraction. I turned up the radio as loud as I could. Marshall Travis’s voice bounced around my cab, wailing about his lost love and how he found her in time to lose her once again. As much as I loved the song, I couldn’t listen to it much longer and switched over to a sports station. The debates about who would trade whom over the course of winter kept my mind off everything but baseball for the rest of the drive.
I pushed eighty and shaved twenty minutes off my usual time. Probably not smart, but I knew where the cops liked to nail speeders. No way they were going to bust me as I hauled ass back to Madison. I needed to see Mallory, to tell her exactly what I wanted, what I needed. There wasn’t anything else on my mind. Just her. I parked behind the Jeep outside Mallory’s house. That Marshall Travis song wormed back into my head. It almost made me second-guess myself. Almost.
The lights were on in the living room. It was a quarter after noon but dark as dusk. The chill in the air promised the threat of an early snow. She’d hung a Christmas wreath on the front door since the last time I’d been here. The only time I’d been here.
Do you really want to do this, Aaron? Do you really want to tell her? Are you willing to risk losing her?
Yes, the answer was yes to all three questions. A tiny bit of fear dug its fingers into my heart. I couldn’t keep pretending. I couldn’t continue to let my emotions, my intentions, slip out only to have her ignore them. She didn’t always ignore them, though, did she?
It was time to throw it on the line once and for all. I needed to get this out of my system, to get her out of my system, regardless of how it played out in the end.
I climbed out of the truck, careful not to tilt the two complete meals my mother packaged up. She didn’t ask why I wanted two, but she grumbled under her breath. Maybe if my mother met Mallory… No. Dad was right. Mom was going to hate her if they ever met.
If. Such a tiny word with huge implications.
I opted to knock instead of ringing the doorbell. After waiting for several minutes, the tension causing my heart to hammer so hard in my chest it felt like I was being pushed toward the door until it finally opened.
Jason Carter stood in front of me with the look he’d give an ump who called a strike when it was clearly a ball. His jeans hung off his hips and the championship T-shirt stretched over his chest like it was a size too small. What he didn’t have on were shoes and socks. This was not how I wanted to meet my favorite ball player.
And it was not where I expected to ever meet him.
“Can I help you?” he asked, crossing his arms and taking on a defensive stance.
I closed my eyes to compose myself. There was no way I was leaving without at least seeing her. Not now. Not after Jason fucking Carter opened her door. I knew I was being irrational. I knew there was a logical explanation to this, but I couldn’t stop the jealous rage rolling through me. I couldn’t stop the idea rooting in my brain that she was the mystery girl that kept him coming back to Madison. Why didn’t she tell me she knew him?
Son of a fucking bitch.
I held out my hand, willing it not to quake. “Aaron Betts. Is Mallory home?”
“Jason Carter,” he said as he shook my hand in a firm grip. There may have been an extra hard squeeze. A meow sounded at his feet. Mickey flicked his tail as he wove a figure eight through Jason’s legs.
“There you are,” Mallory said behind Carter. Mallory peeked around his large frame with Mickey in her arms, her eyes going wide when she saw me.
“Hey, Mal,” I said, knowing the nickname would set her off. I shouldn’t have, since I told her I wouldn’t call her that anymore, but Jason Carter was in her house. It was the nicest way I could tell her I was furious without pissing off the pro ball player making himself comfortable in her house. Too comfortable.
“Aaron? What’re you doing here?” It was an accusation. I could hear it in her voice. Like this was all my fault. Like I was the one who’d lied.
As much as I wanted to say, “getting my heart ripped out through my nose,” I smiled as politely as I could. “You mentioned not having a proper Thanksgiving dinner, so I thought I’d bring you one.” My eyes darted toward Jason before settling back on her. I shoved both plates toward her. “Guess I misheard you.”
Her whole body tensed as she took them, her eyes never leaving my face.
“Anyway, I came back early to rewrite my paper. I hope I didn’t misunderstand anything you said in that.” I stepped back from the door, shoving my hands into my pockets. “See ya around, Mallory. Nice to meet you, Jason.”
He nodded, glancing between me and Mallory. I backed away until I hit the sidewalk then turned and strolled across the street to my truck. My body shook with barely controllable anger. Not just at Mallory, but at myself. I’d misread the entire situation. If I’d been at the plate, I would’ve struck out looking. Hell, I just had. I never got a chance to swing my bat.