It Was Me (19 page)

FORTY TWO

I tugged on the aluminum foil that covered the tray of brownies in the passenger seat of my truck.

I was sitting in front of the Sellers house and making sure the foil was tight over the new batch of brownies I'd brought over. These, so far, had managed not to hit the wall. It had been two days since Annika had showed up at my house with a lifeline and I'd taken a bunch of deep breaths, made several phone calls and now I was ready to talk to Abby.

Whether she wanted to or not.

I grabbed the metal pan and headed up the walk to the house, my stomach knotted up for reasons I wasn't entirely sure of. I stuck my finger on the doorbell and waited.

Mr. Sellers seemed surprised to see me. “West.”

“Hi,” I said. I held up the tray. “I brought these for your wife.”

He pushed open the screen door and took the tray. “That's incredibly kind of you. Thank you.”

“The ones I brought over the other day...sort of didn't make it,” I said. “These are fresh.”

“Abby said you were quite the cook,” he said, smiling. “Thank you.”

“How is she doing?” I asked, then added “Mrs. Sellers, I mean.”

He nodded, lines forming at his eyes. “Okay, I suppose. As well as can be expected. Not a lot of energy and doesn't feel great, but she's getting through it. We're getting through it.”

“Good,” I said. “I'm glad.”

He nodded. “Me, too.” He glanced over his shoulder, then stepped outside, letting the door close behind him. “You have a second?”

“Sure.”

He shifted the pan from one hand to the other. “The other day when you came over. It was awkward, to say the least, and I wanted to apologize.”

“You don't have to. It's alright.”

“It wasn't alright,” he said, shaking his head. “All of this got dropped in the girls' laps pretty fast and it ended up getting dropped on you, too, and that wasn't right. There just isn't a roadmap for this kind of thing, unfortunately.”

“I understand. Really.”

He cleared his throat. “But I wanted you to know that this has nothing to do with you. If everything was normal, I'd have no problem letting Abby go to Arizona. Both her mother and I like you very much. It has nothing to do with you and I don't want you thinking otherwise.”

“You don't owe me an explanation.”

“But you can't plan for this kind of thing,” he said, ignoring me. “And no matter what her mother says, I know she wants Abby here. For all kinds of reasons.”

“I don't blame her. At all.”

He nodded, finally acknowledging that I'd spoken. “Thank you. For understanding. I just really wanted you to know that if the circumstances were different, I'd have no objection to her going to Tucson. We truly do like you and appreciate how you treat Abby. And...I just wanted you know that. Probably doesn't mean much now, but I wanted you to know.”

I appreciated him saying everything he said, but now it just felt awkward standing there with him and I didn't want to say anything to him until I'd spoken to Abby.

“I understand,” I finally said. “But I appreciate you saying it. So thanks.”

He nodded.

“And this is where I ask if Abby's at home?” I asked.

He nodded again, like he knew the question was coming. “She is. But I'm not sure...” He stopped and shook his head. “I'm not exactly sure what to do here, West.”

I started to say something, but the door behind him opened and Annika popped out on the steps behind him.

“Dad,” she said, glancing first at me, then him. “Mom is asking for you. I can talk to West.”

He handed the tray to Annika and hustled inside without saying another word.

She looked at the brownies. “I don't get the baking thing. Guys normally eat rather than cook.”

“I'm incredibly talented.”

“Or in the closet,” she said.

“Is your sister around?” I asked.

“Yep.”

We stood there.

“I'm waiting for you to thank me one more time before I let you in to see her,” she said, smiling at me.

“Is this how it's always gonna be from now on?”

“Most likely. Assuming she hasn't come to her senses and still wants to be with you.”

“I'm not sure I like that.”

“I'm not sure I care.” Her smile widened. “Thank me and you can see your true love.”

I shook my head. “Thank you.”

She pulled the door open and leaned her head toward the house. “You know the way.”

FORTY THREE

The door to her room was closed and I knocked.

“Come in,” she said.

I opened the door and she was sitting on her bed, her back against the headboard, her knees up, her phone in her hands. Her hair was pulled back away from her face and she looked like she hadn't slept in a couple of weeks. She had on a pair of gray gym shorts and one of my old T-shirts.

She looked up from the phone and her features froze. “Hi.”

“Hi,” I said. “Annika let me in. Okay if I come in?”

She hesitated, then nodded.

I stepped into her room and closed the door behind me. It was a strange feeling, not knowing what exactly to say to her. Normally, I didn't even have to think about what came out of my mouth, but now I was all nervous and anxious.

“I saw your dad,” I said. “He said your mom is doing okay.”

She nodded. “I guess. She was pretty sick, but she hates everyone fussing over her. But the doctor said it went well for the first time around.”

I nodded. I wanted to go sit down on the edge of her bed, but I wasn't sure if she was comfortable with that. So I grabbed the chair at her desk, spun it around backwards and sat down on it near the foot of her bed.

“You make any decisions yet?” she asked quietly.

“Actually, I did.”

My response caught her by surprise and she couldn't hide it. She set the phone down and hugged her knees. “And?”

“And I called Coach Childs at Arizona and told him I'm not coming,” I said.

Her face darkened. “Are you fucking kidding me?”

“Nope.”

Her fists balled up around her knees. “You're being so stupid.”

“Maybe.”

The corners of her mouth twitched and her jaw set. “Well, you can do what you want. But I meant what I said. Even if you stay, we aren't going to be together.”

I chuckled. “You know that's the dumbest fucking thing you've ever said, right?”

Her eyes flared with anger. “Excuse me?”

“I won't excuse you,” I said. “Because I mean it. It's fucking dumb to think we could stay apart.”

“So, what?” she asked. “Is this like a dare or something? You told Arizona no just to test me?” She shook her head, disgusted. “I hate to tell you, West, but I meant it. And if you just threw away an opportunity because you wanted to see if I really meant it, then...”

“Would you just shut up for a minute?” I interrupted.

She widened her eyes and sat back against the headboard, like she couldn't believe the words that were coming out of my mouth.

“You think you know everything,” I said. “And you think you can just make decisions for me or force me into making the decision you want me to make. But you haven't even asked why the hell I'm here.” I shook my head. “So before you start telling me how stupid I am, maybe you should listen to me for just a minute. Then you can call me stupid if you want.”

Her cheeks flushed pink and her cheeks pinched inward, a sure sign that she was biting the inside of them.

“Fine,” she mumbled. “Why are you here?”

“I'm here because of Annika,” I said.

Her cheeks unpinched and her jaw dropped. “What?”

“I'm here because of your sister,” I repeated.

She squinted at me. “Am I in the twilight zone or what?”

“Yes. Pretty sure that's where we've all been the last couple of weeks.”

“Why the hell are you here to see Annika?”

I shook my head. “I'm not here to see her. Give me some credit. I'm here
because
of her.”

“I'm totally confused.”

“Yeah, well, welcome to my world,” I muttered. “That's where I've been since you decided you knew what was best for me. Without consulting me.”

Her cheeks flushed redder and she started to speak but I held up my hand to stop her. I fished in my shorts pocket and withdrew a weathered sheet of paper. I tossed it in her direction and it landed on her bed, right next to her feet.

“What's that?”

“The reason I'm here,” I told her. “The reason I told Coach Childs no. The reason I'm staying here.” I hesitated. “Wait. That's not true.”

She raised her eyebrows, the paper untouched on the bed.

“I'm staying here because of you,” I told her. “Because even though you tried to royally fuck us up, I decided not to let you.”

She reached for the paper and brought it to her lap. Slowly, she unfolded it. She scanned it, then looked at me. “What is this?”

“My chance to play baseball. Here in San Diego. With you.”

“What?” she asked. Her voice was unsteady, filled with disbelief. “How?”

“Let's just say that having a whore for a sister appears to have some advantages.” She narrowed her eyes and I smiled. “It's a long story but your sister apparently has an in with the coach at USD.”

“USD? They have a baseball team?”

“Yep. Not a great one but good enough.”

“And...” she swallowed. “And Annika put you in touch with them?”

I nodded. “She knows someone who knows the coach. I talked to him yesterday. Have a meeting with him tomorrow.”

She closed her eyes and dropped her head to her knees.

“So it's not Arizona and I don't know if it's a scholarship or what,” I said. “But it's a chance. It's better than nothing. And it's sure as hell better than not having you.”

Her shoulders shook and I knew she was crying. I stood up and moved to her bed, positioning myself on the edge. I reached out and touched her leg, squeezed it gently.

“Tell me this changes things,” I said.

She said something but her voice was muffled and I couldn't understand her. I moved my hand up from her knee to her shoulder, then to her chin. Gently, I lifted her head up so I could see her. Her eyes were red, her cheeks stained with tears.

“I'm sorry,” she whispered. “I've made the biggest mess of things, haven't I?”

I nodded. “Pretty much.”

A soft cry escaped her mouth and she buried her head against her knees again, sobs racking through her.

“But nothing we can't fix,” I said. “And don't get me wrong. I'm fucking mad as hell at you right now. But I love you, Abby. Even when you make stupid ass decisions and act like a two year old.”

She lifted her head and glared at me and I smiled. “It's true.”

“I did it for you,” she said, brushing at her tears. “I didn't want you to miss out. I told you that!”

“And I told you, it wasn't your decision to make.”

She shook her head. “You didn't know what you were saying. I knew what you would do. When Dad told us about Mom, my first thought was you. Not my mom, but you. Because I knew I would stay in San Diego. It wasn't even a question. And I knew that, once you knew, you'd decide to stay, too. And you would give me all these reasons, how it was going to be okay, how staying with me was the right decision.”

“It would have been.”

“Let me finish,” she said. “And all I could think of was that this was the second time an opportunity would slip right through your fingers.”

“You're not telling me anything I don't already know. We had this conversation, remember?” My hand had returned to her knee and I squeezed it again. “In the coffee shop? When you said you were breaking up with me regardless?”

She winced at the memory. “I didn't want you to hate me.”

“Why the hell would I hate you?”

She stared at her knees. “Because you hate your dad.”

“Jesus.” I shook my head. “I hate him because he stole from me, Abby. He took my money and my mom's and his clients money and he pissed it all away at the fucking casinos. He was a thief and a liar. Big difference.”

“But it was all tied to baseball. To school,” she said. “I didn't want you to stay with me and then, a couple years or months or however long it took, look at me and blame me for what you'd lost. The chance you never got.”

“I never would have done that.”

“You don't know that.”

“Yes,” I told her. “I do.”

“No, you don't,” she said stubbornly.

She would argue forever, I realized. And I was done fighting with her. I was done being apart from her. I braced my hands on either side of her and lifted up so I was hovering over her, her knees pressing into my chest.

“West...” she began.

I didn't let her finish. I lowered my head and crushed my mouth to hers. There was nothing tender, nothing sweet about that kiss. My lips moved against her hungrily, urgently, and I forced her lips open with my tongue, consuming her, possessing her. I slid my hands underneath her back just as her arms wrapped around my neck and I groaned. She wasn't fighting me. There was no resistance. She was there, all mine, her fingernails digging into my shoulders, my scalp, her legs wrapping around my waist, her hips lifting into me.

“Don't ever do this to me again,” I whispered, my mouth lifting from hers. I locked eyes with her. “Ever.”

“I'm sorry,” she said. Her eyes filled with fresh tears. “I'm so--”

I silenced her again. I was done talking, done listening. I tugged on her shorts, pulling them down, reaching for her thin lace panties next. I didn't care that her dad was in the house with us, that her sister might walk in any minute. I slipped my shorts down to my knees, positioned myself between her legs and thrust deep inside of her. She gasped and pulled me close. There were no protests, no concerns about who might walk in or might hear.

Even if there had been, I wouldn't have stopped.

I wanted her. I needed her.

All of her.