Bending Under Pressure (30 page)

“Hey,” she says. “Is she here?”

“Yeah, Mom is keeping her company.” I take her small duffle bag from her and gently kiss her lips, remembering last night. The struggle to keep my hands on her hips while she straddled my lap had to be the hardest thing I’ve ever done. She seemed so content to just kiss that I didn’t want to make her feel pressured if I let my hands roam.

“I could’ve come earlier, but I slept in late. I’m still surprised your parents are letting me come over, considering I’m such a bad influence.”

I laugh. “Having Jess, Cam, and Kiera here helps your case.”

She laces her fingers with mine and squeezes, holding me back instead of following Jess and Cam inside. “I expect
you
to help my case. Don’t make them hate me more.” There’s too much seriousness in her statement.

“Hales, they like you, promise.” She rolls her eyes. “They just don’t like that I sneak out if you need me or that we kiss so much.”

“I might think that, but if it was just those things then Cameron would have the same restrictions,” she sighs. “Sorry. It bothers me more because I know that between the two of us, you’re the bad influence.”

“Think of it as taking one for the team. And remember, they do like you.”

“Okay,” she nods. “Let’s go before they think we’re trying to have a quickie.”

My laughter steals my breath as we finally walk inside. Everyone seems to be in the kitchen, probably eating cookies based on the chocolate chip aroma floating around the house. I could let Haley join them while I take her things to my room, but I don’t. I make her come with me. The next time I get her alone will probably be when everyone goes to sleep and I want to make the best out of every chance we get.

I drop her bag onto my bed, then swivel to face her, cupping her face in my hands. The corners of her mouth are already lifting up into a smile. The staggering need to kiss her all over, touch her wherever I want, and to see more of her body is getting out of hand. All I can do is pull her closer to me and kiss her that much harder. Haley’s open palms rest on my chest. She gently pushes to put space between us, her irregular breathing giving her away.

“I just said I expect you to help my case,” she scolds me with a laugh. She takes my hand and then leads us down to the kitchen where everyone has assembled.

I realize I’m supposed to be socializing and hanging out with my sister, and I am, but I’m also determined to make Haley as happily miserable as I am. I sneak kisses when no one is looking. I stroke my fingers over her skin when I can get away with it. And the moment my parents go to bed, we’re left to our own devices to watch a movie in the living room.

Mom said Jess and Haley could sleep in Cameron’s bed while Keira gets mine. My brother and I are to sleep in the living room on the pull-out couch. For now, Cam and Jess have abandoned us to disappear into his room. Haley is on one side while Keira is on the other. Haley rests her head on my shoulder and I wonder when Kiera will want to go to bed.

“So, what did Mom want to talk to you about?” Kiera asks a few minutes later when it’s apparent Haley has fallen asleep on us when she slides forward and lays her head in my lap.

“She apologized for what happened. Are you glad you came?”

“Yeah. Your parents are really great, Cam, Jess, and Haley, too. Growing up here must’ve been wonderful,” she finishes quietly.

“How was it to grow up with Aunt Frances? How is it now with Natalie?” We’ve never talked about it before and with my girlfriend asleep, we don’t have anything better to do.

“It wasn’t bad. Aunt Frances did the best she could. She would take me to visit Mom and Dad. I didn’t realize that wasn’t normal for most kids, so finding out everyone had their mom and dad at home with them was kinda hard. For the most part, I like living with Mom, but...” her voice trails off.

“But what?”

“She’s strict. Sometimes, I wish I still lived with Aunt Frances.”

“How come you’re not?” I ask.

Keira shrugs. “Mom didn’t want me to anymore. I didn’t get a vote.”

Knowing that, knowing that Keira doesn’t like living with Natalie, doesn’t help her case at all. It makes me even more wary of her.

I
glance at the front door again. Still closed. I left Keelan’s earlier than everyone else so I could come home, shower, and get ready for lunch with my father. He was supposed to be here at noon. It is now 12:30. He isn’t here nor has he texted me.

“Have you heard from your dad?” Walter asks tentatively as he sits down in a recliner.

“No.” My eyes can’t help but look at the door again.

“Have you texted him?”

“No.” Maybe it’s wrong, but I want to see how long it takes my dad to contact me. I don’t know what will be worse though. Him forgetting completely, or him being extremely late. I’m going to have to wait and find out. As every minute passes, my heart aches more and more.

He’s forgotten about me again.

Will I ever be a priority in his life like I used to be?

Mom stays silent when she joins us, and I’m grateful. While I don’t think she would say, “I told you so,” I don’t want her to say anything at all. We’re in a good place and I can’t count on my negative emotions for my father transferring onto her.

At the hour mark, Walter pushes the foot of the recliner down. “How about you give me my first tennis lesson today?”

“I don’t know.” I’d rather shed some tears and then go to the courts by myself. It doesn’t help that I’m not sure if I’m unsure if he truly wants to go today, if he’s doing it out of pity, or as a means to distract me. I hate myself for even wanting to stay here in case Dad shows up. Hastily, I make a decision. “Okay, sure. We can do that. Do you want to come, Mom?”

“No, that’s all right. You and Walter have fun.”

Walter and I stand, going toward our respective bedrooms to change. I grab my extra racquet and a cannister of balls before meeting him again. Walter drives us to the courts, making small talk and staying far away from the subject of my father. There’s a bite in the air today, which makes me grateful I wore my athletic pants instead of one of my skirts. I show him how to hold the racquet and how to swing a forehand and then a backhand. He’s right-handed, so his forehand is simply swinging on the right, and his backhand is when he reaches across his body to swing from the left side.

“Think you got it?” I ask.

“This old dog can learn new tricks, young lady,” he retorts, causing me to laugh.

“Okay, okay. We’ll see how to do when you try to return the ball to me.” I walk across to the opposite side of the courts. The plan is to make my serves and returns as simple as possible to give him a better chance to hit them back to me. I cherish the sound of the ball bouncing against the court before my serve. I toss the ball up, hit it across the court, and wait for Walter to hit it back.

The ball goes to him perfectly. It bounces once. Walter rears his arm backward, but I already know the ball won’t make it to me. His stance changes completely as if he is on a baseball field about to hit what was just pitched to him. The ball flies high over the fence and lands in the grass of the park behind us.

I laugh hard at the shock on Walter’s face. “This isn’t baseball, Walter,” I tell him through my giggles. “Like this.” I turn my body perpendicular to the net and swing, my arm crossing my body until my racquet was over my shoulder once I completed the follow-through. “Here, we’ll practice this way, so I don’t lose all my balls so quickly.”

Walter laughs. I stand in front of the net, still on my side, and throw the ball to him so it’ll bounce once first. His swing is much better this time. He’s more focused on what he’s doing, concentrating hard on doing it correctly. The ball goes wide of me, but I’m able to move and hit it back to him. Thanks to Coach Spell working on my volleys, I’m having no trouble doing this.

His swings aren’t always perfect, but I’d be surprised if they were. For thirty minutes, we do this until I’m confident we can rally with me farther back on the court. The only possible drawback from this experience is that Walter likes to talk during it. When I come to play, there’s never any talking unless it’s during practice and even then, not always.

“Who taught you to play?” he asks.

“My dad. We played all the time together. Sometimes, it felt like he was my coach instead of my actual coach.” Dad isn’t here playing with me now though. Walter is. Should I feel guilty? Is Walter trying to take his place? Should I be angry with him for doing so? Honestly, I think Walter was trying to find a way to connect with me and he only had three options. Math, which I do fine in. Books, and all I read are romances so that could be awkward. Or tennis, the perfect, most preferable opening.

As if he’s reading my mind, Walter hesitates with his swing, causing the green, fuzzy ball to bounce right past him. “I didn’t know that. Is it okay that I’m playing with you now?”

“Yeah. Trying starting this time.”

He bounces the ball and then swings as if it was hit to him rather than serving. We’re not tackling that issue today.

“You know, I was married before I met your mom.”

“You were?” I ask, surprised.

“Yep. I even had a daughter.”

His words shock and confuse me so much that I just stare at him. What does that mean? Where are they now?

“I don’t understand.” I don’t know why he’s telling me this either.

“I need a break. Come on.” He’s breathing kind of heavy, and I worry that he pushed himself too much. Wordlessly, I follow him off the courts and to a nearby bench, the one Cameron and Keelan usually sit on. Walter takes a few deep, long breaths before he speaks again. “My wife died during childbirth and my daughter died shortly after she was born.” I can’t stop staring at him, my eyes wide with disbelief. He continues slowly, taking his time to tell me his story.

“It happened during my late twenties, so it’s been awhile. I wasn’t sure I would ever be happy again, if I would fall in love and have a family.” He swallows hard. “Then I met your mom. I fell in love with her and fell in love with the idea of you.”

“What do you mean?” I interrupt.

“Well, we hadn’t met yet, but your mom talked about you a lot. I’ve always wanted a family, and with your mom, I would get one. Before I met you, I knew practically everything there was to know because of her. She warned me that you might not be so welcoming. She knew you were struggling with the divorce and how your dad was behaving.”

Absentmindedly, I narrow my eyes. “No wonder you never seemed surprised by me or my outbursts. You expected them.”

He laughs. “Pretty much.”

“How come you didn’t get angry with me, like Mom?”

“You were hurting,” he says with a shrug. “Hope that you would come around helped too. I can’t say I know what your dad is thinking, why he’s being like this, what you should do about it, or anything like that. All I want is for you and your mom to be happy, Haley. I don’t want to be your dad, or your friend, but if you’d let me, I’d love to be here if you need me. I’d love to be your stepdad, to be a part of your family.”

Tears well up in my eyes. Why in the world do I want to cry? For fear of the tears escaping, I simply nod. I can give Walter that. I really want to. Walter’s lips stretch into a smile so large, I wonder if he’s going to run out of room on his face.

He hugs me, whispering, “Thank you, Haley.”

“Thank you, too.”

D
ad never called.

I haven’t reached out to him either. I don’t know if I want to, so I’ve done nothing. The air is getting colder with each day, which is a pain in my butt. We’ve had a lot of homework this week and except during school, I haven’t seen Keelan much. I have way too much time on my hands. Reading and homework is all I’ve done this week.

Sighing, I roll over and grab my phone. It’s 11:30 on Thursday night and I can’t sleep. Keelan might still be awake.

Me: Awake?

Keelan: Yep. Playing a video game with Cam. What’s up?

My thumbs hover over the keyboard. Things have been really good with Keelan, especially the kissing, which sounds really nice right now. Would he come get me and sneak me into his house for a little while? He didn’t have practice today, so he might not be too tired.