Delay of Game (The Baltimore Banners Book 6) (18 page)

Val heard Justin speak, saw his lips move, but she was certain she was hearing things. She tilted her head to the side, frowning again. "Where did you just say?"

Justin laughed, the sound rich and warm, easing some of the shock she felt when he spoke again.

"Gettysburg."

"Watch your speed going through here. When they say twenty-five, they mean it."

Val glanced down at the truck's speedometer and eased off the gas, slowing down until the needle hovered above twenty-seven. Justin's truck drove like a car, with a smooth powerful engine that was misleading. She never thought she'd be into trucks, but after an hour of driving Justin's, she had to reconsider. He had laughed when she told him that, a playful grin on his face when he told her she looked good behind the wheel.

His grin had faded not too long ago, finally disappearing when they crossed the Mason-Dixon line and entered Pennsylvania. At first she thought it might be because of his arm. It was resting in a sling and propped on a pillow she insisted he use for the drive. He'd only had one pain pill and that was hours ago. But something told her it was more than just his arm. The way he was sitting, too rigid and too tense, wasn't like someone in pain. In fact, she'd sensed tension in him the last few days, ever since he invited her along.

Val glanced over at him, then looked back at the road, stopping for a traffic light. The weather so far was nice. A little warm for late May but without the heavy humidity that would blanket the area in a few weeks. She'd dressed for it, in a pair of linen capris with a loose blouse and comfortable sandals. Justin surprised her, though, choosing to wear a pair of worn jeans and cowboy boots. She thought he'd wear one of his button-front shirts, only because they were so much easier for him to get into. But he insisted on a slate blue polo with the Banners' logo, despite the difficulty—and no doubt, pain—putting it on.

"I don't think I've been up here since middle school. Or maybe high school, I can't remember."

Justin looked over at her, the corner of his mouth barely lifting in what might be a grin—if she stretched the definition some. "Field trip, huh?"

"Yeah. I don't remember a whole lot about it, it's been so long ago. I know the bus drove around the battlefield. At least, I think it did. And then there was that old musty building with a map that had all these light bulbs showing the battle."

Justin propped his elbow on the doorframe and rested his head in his hand, his eyes focused on the passing scenery. "The electric map. It's gone now."

"Oh."

"So is the old musty building. There's a brand new Visitor Center now. This huge thing they built a few years ago."

"Oh. Well, like I said, it's been awhile. Maybe we could go to the new place and you can show me around."

"Yeah, sure."

The road was fairly straight now, nothing but farmland and an occasional house here and there, so Val risked looking over at him. Not a quick glance, like she had been, but a longer look. He was still staring out the window, his head turned in profile, his hair ruffling in the wind coming through the window. She couldn't see his eyes, not with his head turned and his sunglasses on, but she was certain they'd be unfocused, seeing something only he could see. He moved his head, reaching to scratch at his freshly-shaved jaw, then went back to resting his chin in his hand and just staring out at nothing.

Maybe that was why he seemed so quiet, so preoccupied. The Banners had lost last night, falling behind early in the game and losing their chance to win the Cup for the second year in a row. Justin hadn't said anything—there was nothing to say, not when both of them were disappointed about the loss. And this morning, when he'd come out of the bathroom, his beard was gone.

Could that really be the reason for his sudden tension and silence? Or was there something else going on, something she missed?

Val looked over at him one last time, adjusted the sunglasses on her nose, and sighed. "Justin. Is everything okay?"

"Hm?" He turned in the seat, finally looking at her. "Yeah. Why?"

"I don't know. You just seem distracted. Is it the game? Is that what you're upset about?"

"No."

A few more miles went by, the houses coming closer together now. Another traffic light was up ahead, right at the entrance to an outlet mall. Beyond that was a small convenience store and gas station—one on either side, just before the off ramp to a highway. They were close now, just outside of town, according to the signs. And still Justin didn't say anything, didn't elaborate.

"Then what is it, Justin? I can tell you're stressed about something." She swallowed against the sudden thickness clogging her throat, surprised at the emotion building in her chest. "Is it me? Did you change your mind? About me coming with you, I mean. Maybe this wasn't such a good idea—"

"No. Val, no. That's not it at all." He ran his good hand through his hair then pointed in front of them. "Pull into this gas station here, just on the other side of 15."

Val looked and sure enough, there was another station just on the other side of the bridge crossing the highway. She checked traffic and moved into the right lane, waited on another light—because did they really need three traffic lights in the space of a thousand feet?—then pulled into the small station. She parked the truck on the side of the building, not sure if she should turn it off or leave it running. For all she knew, they'd be turning around and going back home.

Justin turned in the seat until he was facing her then reached up and pulled off the dark sunglasses. She didn't turn to face him, almost afraid of what she might see in his eyes. Justin reached over with his good hand, closing it around hers and tugging. Not hard, just enough to get her to turn around, to look at him. She bit down on her lower lip and finally turned her head, her gaze resting on his chin.

"Val, look at me." Justin squeezed her fingers, urging her. She blinked a few times then looked up. His gaze was steady on hers, the brown of his eyes dark, soft. And reassuring, comforting. Val blinked again, faster this time, certain she could lose herself in their dark depths.

"Val, it's not you. Please don't think that."

"Then what is it? Tell me."

Justin looked away, but not before she saw the worry and doubt fill his eyes. And something else. Resignation? Regret? She couldn't be sure. When he faced her again, whatever she thought she had glimpsed was gone.

"You know I don't really have a good relationship with my father, right?"

Val shrugged, not sure how to answer. Over the last few months, Justin had made vague references to some kind of tension with his father, but he had never gone into detail. She hadn't asked because there had never been a reason to. That, and she thought that maybe it had all been in the past, something that didn't really have anything to do with Justin now. Apparently she was wrong.

"I guess. Maybe."

"Trust me, we don't. It's—" Justin paused, frowning. Then he shook his head, almost like he was trying to clear it. Or maybe trying to find a way to explain. "I had to deal with some shit growing up, Val. Some of the stuff has stayed with me. So no, we don't really get along, and I get a little tense whenever I see him. But please, don't think it's you."

Justin squeezed her fingers then lifted her hand to his mouth and brushed his lips against her knuckles. Her fingers tightened around his, in reassurance and in reaction. Val leaned forward and brushed the hair off his forehead, then cupped his cheek in her hand.

"Justin, if it's that bad, why are you coming out here for a week?"

"Because I have to."

She waited for him to explain but he remained silent. Val wasn't sure if it was because he didn't want to go into more detail, or if it was because he honestly didn't know how to explain. And maybe he didn't. Maybe those simple words were the only explanation he ever needed for himself.

She leaned forward and pressed her mouth against his, the kiss soft and reassuring. "Then I'm here for you."

"Thank you."

Two simple words, so quietly spoken. They meant so much more, Val could see that from the look in his eyes. Her heart jumped in her chest, that familiar warmth filling her again. She was almost certain she knew what it meant, that warm glow that radiated out. Almost certain. But she didn't want to look at it too closely, didn't want to analyze it or even name it. Not now. Not yet. It was too soon. There was still so much about Justin she didn't know, still so much to learn about him.

Well, she would certainly get to know more about him this week, wouldn't she? Too bad she had a feeling it might not be what Justin wanted her to know.

The knot settled like concrete, hard and unforgiving, in his gut as they pulled into the long driveway. Justin questioned, for the thousandth time in the last twenty minutes, the wisdom of coming here.

Of bringing Val.

Wasn't it bad enough that he had to submit himself to this torture? To put up with the memories of the past and the constant reminder that he wasn't good enough? To listen to his father criticize and find fault with everything?

He could tell himself he was over it, that it no longer made a difference, all he wanted. But they were just empty words, meaningless words meant to bolster. He thought it had worked.

He was wrong.

And now he was bringing Val into it, showing her a part of his life that he didn't want to acknowledge. What the hell had he been thinking, asking her to come here with him? He knew the answer, as clear as he knew he didn't want to be here. He was a coward, thinking Val would give him the strength and courage he needed.

He was wrong.

Justin turned in his seat, watching her as she put the truck in park and turned off the engine. So beautiful, with her long black hair and porcelain skin, her wide hazel eyes and full mouth. Did she have any idea what she did to him? Did she have any idea what she meant to him? How she made him feel? Like he could do anything, be anyone he wanted. Like he mattered. Like he wasn't the colossal fuck-up his father thought he was.

What the hell had he been thinking, bringing her here? Showing her that he wasn't really who she thought he was.

He wanted to tell her that he changed his mind, that the trip was a mistake. He wanted her to start the truck and turn it around and go back home. He could come back later, without her.

Justin reached for her, opening his mouth to say just that, but it was too late. Val already had the door open and was climbing out, her hand wrapped around the handle for balance as she stepped down. She placed her hands in the middle of her back and stretched, then shoved the sunglasses up, anchoring them in her hair. There was a hint of a smile on her face as she looked around, taking in the uneven yard, the large rocks here and there, the stretch of worn split-rail fencing that ran the perimeter. And in the middle of it all, looming in front of them, stood the house.

Close to two hundred years old, the restored farmhouse sprawled in front of them, its various additions over the years adding a look of fanatical whimsy. Weathered gray clapboard, black tin roof, full front porch. The addition running off the back also boasted a second-story balcony, added almost a hundred years ago. Not too far in the distance stood the barn, a large building bigger than the original house. Justin knew without looking that the equipment it housed was nearly new. Top of the line, no expense spared. And why would there be? Not when it was Justin's money that had paid for everything.

Not that any of that mattered, not to his father.

He couldn't stay here. Not with Val, not with the ghostly voices that would become too real this week. But he couldn't just tell her they were leaving, not without having to explain so much more. He wasn't quite ready for that.

Val turned back, her smile a little wider. "So you really are a farm boy, huh?"

Justin glanced at the house then back at Val through the open driver's door, trying to muster something that resembled a smile. "Yeah, I guess." 

Val tilted her head, the smile on her face fading just a little. Probably because his voice had been anything but enthusiastic. And probably because he was still sitting in the truck, making no move to get out. Val lowered the sunglasses back over her eyes and closed the door, then walked around the front of the truck. Great, she probably thought he needed help. With a muttered curse, he opened the door and climbed down before she reached him, managing to bang his arm only once. He winced and closed the door, waving off Val's concern when she reached for him.

"Should we get our bags now?"

"No, leave them. I think we'll stay at a hotel in town." It was the best compromise he could think of right now. It was what he should have done to begin with. Surely one of the small hotels still had a room available.

Val came up beside him, taking his good hand in hers and lacing their fingers together. She smiled at him then looked around again. "So is this part of the battlefield?"

"What?" He hadn't expected that question, though he wasn't sure why. It was a natural question, especially this close to town. But he'd grown up here, right in history's back yard, and didn't think of it in those terms. Justin looked around, trying to see everything through Val's eyes.

"Everywhere around here is part of the battlefield. But not like you’re thinking. At least, it's not part of the preserved battlefield that's run by the park service. There were probably a few skirmishes here but nothing that's considered important."

"Oh. I thought the whole battle was important." Was it his imagination, or did she actually look disappointed? The thought almost made him smile.

"I didn't realize you were a history buff."

Val shrugged, her gaze still studying the landscape around them. "Not really. But I still think it's cool. I mean, imagine what it was like back then. Don't you ever wonder who may have been standing right here, in this exact spot? Just because it didn't make it into the history books doesn't mean nothing happened."

"Hm. Maybe." Val looked so enthralled with the possibilities, so excited over whatever scenarios were playing out in her mind. Justin decided to share the one thing he did know that happened here. He squeezed her hand and motioned to the house with a single nod. "What would you say if I told you the house was used a hospital during the battle?"

"No way. Really?" Her smile grew wider as she turned from him to the house, no doubt imagining what it must have been like.

"Yup, really. Of course, pretty much every house around was used as some sort of hospital, so that doesn't really mean much." He squeezed her hand, knowing he should move forward, out of the yard and up to the house. But he wasn't ready to, not just yet. "There's a small parlor off to the left that still has the original wood floors. They say there was so much blood from all the soldiers that the floors are actually stained. I'm not sure how true that is, but I do know there's a dark stain in the corner that's supposedly from after the battle."

"No way. Really? Cool." Val's smile widened. She glanced at him, her eyes hidden behind the dark glasses, her head titled to the side. "So. Are there any ghosts here?"

Justin's grin faded. Only my personal ones, he wanted to say. But he couldn't say that, not without explaining. And then he didn't have to say anything because the front door opened, the wood frame of the screen banging shut as his father stepped onto the porch.

He had the same build as Justin, maybe a little rounder, a little softer in the middle. His blonde hair was mostly faded to gray, his complexion weathered and ruddy from so much time in the sun. Dark eyes, nearly identical to Justin's, stared from beneath thick brows lowered in an impatient slash, their color cold and flat.

His father folded his arms in front of him, his booted feet braced shoulder-width apart. As Justin watched, those flat eyes moved to Val. Studying, watching. Distant and immediately disapproving. Then he turned that cool gaze to Justin, staring for seconds that stretched around them, quiet and uncomfortable.

His father. Justin's own personal ghost. In the flesh and very much alive. A ghost he didn't know how to deal with, even now.

"About damned time you showed up, boy."