Chasing Sunsets (10 page)

M
ARY CATHERINE HATED SEEING
her time with Marcus come to an end. He parked in front of the apartment and walked her to the front door. She hoped he couldn’t hear how hard her heart was beating. The rush she felt had nothing to do with her health. Something about being with him stirred feelings she’d avoided most of her life.

He stood closer than she liked. Or maybe she liked it more than she wanted to admit. Either way, he looked deep into her eyes before he spoke. Like he had all the time in the world. “I had fun tonight.”

“Me, too.” She folded her arms in front of her. “Thanks again . . . for not bringing your phone.”

He chuckled lightly. The sound sent chills through Mary Catherine, and she could do nothing to stop them. “You, too. Looks like we’re both good at being present.”

“Yes, sir.”

“ ‘Yes, sir’?” He angled his head. The look in his eyes took
her breath. “You had that Southern thing in your voice just then.”

She giggled. “Blame it on the upbringing. You can take the girl out of the South . . .”

He grinned at her, as if he wanted to stretch the moment as badly as she did. “But you can’t take the South out of the girl.”

“Exactly.”

“I love it. And you still have an accent, by the way.”

“Maybe.” She was enjoying herself more than she wanted to admit.

“Anyway . . . I’ll say this, Mary Catherine.” He paused, searching her eyes. “Sami was right about you.”

“About how wild I am?” She blinked a few times. Under his gaze, her walls didn’t stand a chance.

“No . . . that you’re one of a kind.” He looked up at the sky and then back into her eyes. “I had to find out for myself.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“As it was intended.” She wondered if he was going to hug her. Instead, he did the slightest bow. Like a knight from a long-forgotten era. “It’s been a pleasure, m’lady.”

“Oh, now look.” She laughed softly. “Southern gentleman, are you?” The sound faded and she looked deeper into his eyes, all the way to his soul. “Marcus Dillinger . . . you’re not who I expected.”

“Now, now . . .” A twinkle lit up his eyes and he waved his pointer finger at her. “You thought us ballplayers were all the same.”

“I did. I confess.” No matter what she’d told herself up to this point, she didn’t want the moment to end. She could’ve
stayed out here beneath the stars with Marcus Dillinger, being far too friendly, until daybreak.

“Well”—he took a step back—“happy to prove you wrong.” His teasing lifted like morning fog and for several seconds he stood there, just watching her. Again she had the sense he didn’t want to leave any more than she wanted him to go. “See you later, Mary Catherine.”

“See ya.” She put one hand on the door, but she didn’t turn around until he did, until he jogged to his Hummer, climbed inside, and pulled away.

Inside, she was grateful Sami was already asleep. She didn’t want to answer questions about the night or her walk with Marcus or what she might be feeling. She stood at the window and peered through the crack in the curtains. Her heart was giddy with love and life and every wonderful thing. Springtime reigned in her soul and sunshine followed her into the apartment despite the dark of night outside.

Had the last few hours really happened? Had Marcus really just driven off at one thirty in the morning after spending the most wonderful time with her? And what was she thinking, allowing herself to feel this way?

Mary Catherine had no answers for herself.

For once she didn’t care about her sensibilities, about her determination to keep herself unattached, to never fall in love. She always thought she could find a grander purpose outside of love. Learning to fly, or feeding children in Africa, or sneaking Bibles into North Korea. She had believed her wild side was enough to soak all the life she could out of the time God gave her.

But she would never have this night again and right now
she would’ve given up every adventure ahead for the chance to be loved by Marcus Dillinger. Something that would never happen. She drew a shaky breath.

Right now she didn’t feel wild. She felt scared and unsure and lonely. Just for tonight, she wished for the freedom to fall in love if she wanted to. She wished she wasn’t sick and that tonight wasn’t only a dream. And something else.

She wished she had a hundred years.

IT WAS A
half hour back to his house in Silver Lake, and Marcus was pretty sure he’d need every minute to sort through his feelings. The ones that had made it hard to feel the ground beneath his feet a minute ago.

Mary Catherine had filled his senses for the past two hours like no girl ever had. Yet, he was pretty sure she wasn’t available. She didn’t have a boyfriend—at least he didn’t think she did. But she gave off no real proof of being interested, either.

Marcus gripped the steering wheel and gritted his teeth. What was he thinking? Of course she wasn’t interested. Hadn’t she said that at the beginning? Sure, she’d opened up to him tonight. But in front of their friends she’d been just short of rude. Too concerned with offending his girlfriend. Which was another problem.

He had never intended to have Shelly be his girlfriend.

The thing with Shelly just sort of happened. She was relentless when they were together, and when they weren’t, well, she texted him constantly. Always her texts were forward
and laced with innuendo. He came to a stoplight and checked his phone.

Another two texts had come in from Shelly while he was saying goodbye to Mary Catherine. The light was still red, so he glanced at them. The first was short.
Miss you
. The second was longer.
All I can think about are those long legs of yours and . . . well, you know. See you soon.
Each text was punctuated by half a dozen emojis.

Of course he hadn’t brought his phone on the walk with Mary Catherine. Her texts came in like clockwork.

He tossed the phone on the passenger seat as the light turned green. How had things gotten this way so fast? The two of them hadn’t been alone except for their goodbyes—which was a good thing. Even when he took her home, she was all over him, kissing him and asking him to park further down the street. “Let’s take our time,” she always told him.

Mary Catherine had asked the most profound question of the night. Who was pursuing whom when it came to Shelly? Marcus sighed, and the sound rattled around in the empty Hummer. He knew so little about being a Christian. Sure, his dad had been a good man. He’d met Marcus’s mom in church, after all. But as far back as Marcus could remember there had only been baseball.

A good life, a nice family, and baseball.

He thought about how easily Mary Catherine had rattled off the Bible verse. What was it? John something. Marcus had never even read the Bible, at least not as far as he could remember. It wasn’t something he and Tyler had talked about, either.

Mary Catherine’s face came to his mind, consuming his
senses. She was the sort of girl a guy could pursue. No question. But if they’d had another hour, if their walk had gone on longer, eventually the questions would’ve turned to him and his past.

He had basically told her everything there was to know—at least from his high school days. He had played ball. Period.

But his time in college and the pros? Those years, there was much more to his story. A sick feeling came over him. There didn’t seem to be enough air in the SUV, so he rolled down his window. Pitching for the Oregon State Beavers came with certain expectations. Different girls every weekend. Others on the road and still more midweek on campus. It was all part of the game.

Marcus liked to think he was better than some of his teammates. He didn’t drink, didn’t party. But he couldn’t remember the names of all the girls he’d been with.

Shame burned through him, so that even the skin on his hands felt hot. He could never tell Mary Catherine about his past. She wouldn’t want another conversation with him. He squinted at the freeway ahead of him.
Dear God, what sort of pathetic, wretched man am I? How many girls do I owe an apology to?

He rarely thought about this. Especially in the last few years, when he’d cleaned up his act and stayed away from women. But if he was honest with himself, things only grew worse after the draft.

Los Angeles was a place without values or morals. Everyone was out for themselves, on the hunt for money, fame, sex. The thrill of the one-night stand worked both ways in LA. The
girls Marcus hooked up with hadn’t wanted a commitment any more than he had.

People using people. Until recently, that was Los Angeles for Marcus.

He tried to imagine what Mary Catherine would think about that. If she were telling him the whole story, the girl hadn’t had a serious boyfriend. Maybe not ever—though he found that hard to believe. One thing was for sure—Mary Catherine wasn’t going to settle. Not in life, and not in love.

The weight of his past pressed in around his shoulders. Sure, he’d made a deal with God, and God had come through. But where did that leave him? The question that had plagued him after Baldy’s death suffocated him again. Here in his Hummer. If he didn’t make it home, if a drunk driver drove the wrong way onto the freeway and he never saw it coming, where would he be at night’s end?

Heaven or hell?

Yeah, he needed to talk to Ollie Wayne. The family opened their home week after week. They hosted church every Sunday, but Marcus had never talked about his past, about what to do with it.

Let me just say this, Lord . . . I’m sorry. If I could do things over again, I’d avoid every bit of it. The girls . . . they were nothing to me. But . . . it was something to You. I’m sorry.

The breeze through the open window brushed against his face and the pressure on his shoulders eased. He didn’t hear any response, the way he had earlier on the way to the youth center. But he felt something. Hope, maybe. Yeah, that was it. Hope.

He would talk to Ollie and Rhonda and he’d start read
ing the Bible. He’d start with Mary Catherine’s verse in John.

Her name brought him back to the moment.

Tonight was a dream. He could’ve talked to the beautiful redhead all night. She carried with her a childlike joy, the kind that could warm an entire room. Her very presence was intoxicating. But he didn’t dare dream about her.

God might forgive him for his ugly, sordid past. But Mary Catherine would never even have the chance because he could never tell her. If he ever did, the magic of tonight would be gone as soon as he said the words. The simple truth was this:

A girl like Mary Catherine deserved better.

11

L
EXY FELT A HUNDRED
years old as she walked into her grandma’s house. It was only nine thirty, but already the woman was asleep. Her grandma didn’t belong in this generation or this neighborhood. She was a God-fearing woman who had nowhere else to turn.

Lexy crossed her arms and stared out the window. A kid had died tonight. One of EastTown’s youngest. Dwayne had no choice—that’s what he said. The rules had changed. Now if he wanted to be leader of the WestKnights he needed two murders. A kid from EastTown and Marcus Dillinger.

He was halfway there.

Vomit rose in Lexy’s throat. Sure, she’d been around a lot of killing. Still, tonight was different. Dwayne hadn’t been able to find one of the EastTown Boyz. They were headed home and he was cussing at her. Like it was her fault.

Dwayne didn’t have to treat her like that. Lexy was his, heart and soul. He could at least be a little nice. That’s what
she was telling him when all of a sudden he slowed the car down.

“There.” Dwayne had cussed under his breath. “Two-bit punks. Say goodbye to life.” He had rolled down his window.

Lexy had heard him cock the gun, but she didn’t want to look. For all her time on the streets she’d never actually seen someone shot and killed. Not close like this. But at the last second she looked. She turned and everything happened in slow motion.

The two EastTown Boyz had been sitting on trashcans, their backs to the street, red bandanas proudly wrapped around their heads. And Dwayne had started cussing again, saying something about getting the younger one. Then before Lexy could take another breath, Dwayne fired at the smaller of the two guys.