Let Love Shine (5 page)

“You think you could actually hit the ball out of the
infield this time?” I toss Bryan a bat as he shoots me the “shut the fuck up”
face.

“Would you leave him alone?” Dylan, the team captain and
always the diplomat, claps Bryan on the shoulder. “Reid once broke his nose
because the ball he’d just bunted bounced off the plate and popped him right in
the face.” Of course, Dylan and Bryan share a laugh at my expense, but that was
actually pretty funny. Except for the shit-storm I caught from my father about
not being in proper form and how I could have won the game for my team if I
knew what the fuck I was doing.

Nothing like a little encouragement from your old man, huh?

When the umpire calls “batter up,” Bryan takes one last
practice swing. Leaning up against the fence, Dylan coaches Bryan through his
at-bat and he actually manages to get a base hit. All kidding aside, Dylan’s a
great coach.

“Thanks for letting him join.” I hold up one finger to Bryan
to remind him there’s only one out. Without turning around, I angle my head to
the bleachers behind us where Maddy and Melanie are cheering us on. “It means a
lot to the girls, and to me.”

“Anytime, man. Besides we needed an extra player otherwise
the team would have had to forfeit the season.” The Bridge, where Dylan and I
work as Gay-Straight Alliance advocates, has always put up a company softball
team in the local fall-ball league. I played last year and I can’t even begin
to explain the memories that came to the surface. Being on the field again with
Dylan, made me miss Shane so much that there were some days I thought of
quitting. But when Maddy reminded me that Shane would be happier with me being
on the field than at home angry over him being gone, I knew that I had to stay.

The batter after Bryan manages a single and Bryan squeezes
an extra base off a throwing error. With only one out and our strongest player
at bat, Todd, who is pretty much two-hundred-and-fifty-pounds of solid muscle,
our chances of winning this game, and the league championship, are fairly
decent.

Just as expected, Todd lifts a fly ball into left field.
Bryan watches it soar overhead and starts running for home. The left-fielder is
crazy fast and before Bryan even realizes it, he is in position to catch the
ball; he’s just standing out there waiting for it to drop in his glove. Dylan
and I are flailing our arms and yelling, “Go back! Go back!” He’s still not
familiar with all of the rules of the game, so Bryan stops in the middle of the
baseline and just stares at us with a dumbfounded look on his face. “Dude, go
back!” I call out one last time before he seems to recall his running error.

Who the hell could have predicted what happens next, but all
of a sudden, the left-fielder trips over his own feet or a large rock or
something like that, and the ball drops to the ground next to him. Dylan and I
resume yelling for Bryan to run. Confusion sets in on Bryan who hasn’t yet
figured out the ball was not caught. Behind me, I hear Melanie screaming for
Bryan to slide as the center fielder, who was backing up the play, launches the
ball towards home plate. Clapping, yelling, screaming, general chaos ensues as
both Bryan and the ball arrive at home plate at the same time. The softball
gods must be on our side today, because by some miracle, Bryan slides his foot
around the catcher and somehow completely avoids the tag.

“Safe!” The umpire yells out as he slashes his arms through
the air. Bryan jumps up from his slide only to be tackled to the ground by the
rest of the team. Before he even sees it coming, one of the guys has the water
cooler hoisted up over his shoulder, ready to dump it on Bryan’s head.

“Ah, fuck! That’s cold!”

“Better you than me,” I laugh as I hand him his hat that got
lost in the pile up after the play at the plate.

“Way to go, Bry!” Dylan high fives Bryan and the rest of the
team follows. The umpire hands us our championship plaque and we line up
quickly to take a picture for the office. It’s our third year in a row as
league champions and it’s fair to say that Bryan has won himself a spot on the
team from here on out.

After the picture is taken and most of the guys head out to
their cars, Dylan, Bryan and I grab the last of the gear. “Great game, guys.”
Maddy and Melanie come over to us as we’re packing up the last of our things.
Braden is sitting up in his stroller playing with some of his toys. Reaching up
on her toes, Maddy plants a quick kiss on my cheek and surprises me more than a
little when she slaps my ass.

“No thanks to Bryan’s superb base running skills,” Dylan
jokingly punches him on the arm.

“Whatever.” He chugs down his water as Melanie wraps her arm
around his waist.

“I thought you were great!” I know Melanie means well, but
publicly defending your boyfriend’s non-existent softball skills is only going
to make him the butt of more of our jokes.

We all walk out to the parking lot as a group. “You guys
want to grab a beer down at Murray’s?” Dylan asks over the hood of his car. A
few of our other teammates decided to head home, needing to ice and rest before
work tomorrow morning, but Todd and a couple other guys are heading to the bar.
Bryan and I look at Maddy and Melanie seeking approval without really wanting
to ask for it—yeah, I guess you could say we’re a little whipped.

Whatever, I enjoy sex and I fully intend to get some
tonight. So pissing Maddy off isn’t exactly on my radar. Besides, I know that
when Dylan asks to head out for a few drinks, he really needs to talk.

I can’t ever say ‘no’ to him when he needs to get something
off his chest.

Answering our silent question, Maddy grabs the keys to the
Jeep. “Yeah, go have fun. We’ll see you guys in a bit.” I help her get Braden
is his seat and toss Bryan a dry shirt from my gym bag.

“I promise I won’t be late.” As I lean through the window
and kiss her goodbye, she mumbles against my lips, “You better not be.” She
winks at me seductively before her and Melanie pull away.

We each grab a stool at the bar and order a Bud while
mindlessly zoning out to ESPN. There isn’t much to guys’ conversation on a
Sunday afternoon in a bar. Really, the main reason we go is to get away from
talking. There’s something so very relaxing about just being out with the guys
watching a game on TV—any game, really—and not having to say a word.

About an hour after we arrive, Bryan finishes the last of
his one and only beer. “I’m out, guys.” He slides his stool forward. “I’m going
to catch a ride with Todd. I’ve got class in the morning and so does Melanie.
I’ll see you next weekend, yeah?”

“Sure thing, man. Great job today,” Dylan calls out over his
shoulder without really taking his eyes off the screen above the bar.

The bar erupts into loud screams and cheers as the playoff
game ends in a walk-off homerun. Dylan orders another drink, and when the
volume level returns to normal, he clears his throat.

“So, I got a call in the office on Friday.” The quiet and
unsure quality of his voice immediately sets me on edge. I twist in my seat to
face him and silently prompt him to continue.

“It was on the support line and the caller didn’t give a
name, but I swear I knew who it was.” He takes a swig of his beer as he seems
to mentally flip through the hundreds of students we’ve met since the school
year started in September.

“Dylan, there’s no way you could know. We visit at least two
schools a week and it’s been what, like five weeks now since we started our
fall assemblies?”

Scrubbing his hand over his face, he puffs out a deep,
frustrated breath. “Yeah, I know. But when I heard her voice on the line, it
just sounded so familiar. She was so sad. I could hear her pain. I could tell
she was crying, but before I could get her to say much of anything, she hung
up.”

“Maybe it’ll come to you.” I finish off the last of my beer
and slide my glass over to the bartender.

Dylan’s eyebrows are furrowed together and he looks like
he’s scanning the bar top to try and read something written there in invisible
ink. “I think…I mean, I could be making this up, but I think before she said
she was an anonymous caller, it sounded like her name was on the tip of her
tongue.”

“Did she say anything else that would give you some kind of
clue? A friend’s name or something like that?”

I can tell he’s mentally replaying the conversation, so when
the light bulb goes off over his head, I grin and wait for him to share.

“She said ‘Cane would kill me if he knew I was calling.’
After that, I couldn’t make out anything because she was sobbing so badly.
Then, the line went dead.”

“Cane? You sure?” I need to double check, make sure my ears
aren’t playing tricks on me.

“Yeah, I’m certain because I remember thinking I wish she’d
give me her name too so that I could put it all together and go help her out
some more.”

“There was a kid in my group last week at Lincoln Memorial
whose name was Cane. It can’t be all that common of a name, can it?” I clearly
remember the kid too. Tall and skinny, dressed in a punk-rock inspired wardrobe
from head to toe. He stayed after the assembly when I held a voluntary group
session. Kids rarely open up much during those, but not Cane. He was angry and
clearly hurting. I did my best to try to talk him through his pain, to get him
to open up, but when he saw the other kids sitting there wide-eyed and shocked,
he shut his mouth and practically stormed out of the room.

“Why don’t we talk to everyone who helps with the support line
to keep their eyes out for the number that called on Friday, or anything within
the same area code? If any of the callers mention anything about Lincoln
Memorial, then maybe we can get in touch with the principal and go back into
the school.” I offer up a lame smile hoping that it will help calm his racing
brain, but I know it won’t. Dylan cares about the kids we meet more than anyone
I know. He really takes their issues to heart.

“Yeah, man. Sounds good.” He stands and throws a twenty down
on the bar. We walk out to his car, and for the ten minute drive to my
apartment, there’s an uneasy silence settling around us. I unclip my seatbelt.
“Don’t worry, okay. We’ll figure something out.” He nods but stares out the
windshield, a distracted look plastered to his face. After I close the door, I
pop my head back through the window. “See you tomorrow.” My words almost
startle him and he looks over at me as if he’s seeing me for the first time
since we left the bar.

I stand in the parking lot and watch him pull away. I don’t
want to imagine the thoughts going through his head right now. I’m sure they’re
about Shane. For a guy who seems to have it all together most days, he’s still
reeling inside. I can’t force him to open up, though. The best I can do is wait
for him to want to talk.

Maybe someday.

I swear I only hear every other word out of my professor’s
mouth. Presidents and Senators. Executive and legislative branches. I have
busted my ass to get to where I am, and if I didn’t need this politics course
in order to graduate from my two-year program in the spring, well, then I would
so
be dropping it.

“Any questions?” he calls out dryly and he wipes his
chalk-covered hands down the front of his dark brown corduroys.

Please, nobody have a question. Pretty please. I just
want to go home.

Thankfully, no one asks anything. When he says, “Class
dismissed,” the only noise that fills the room is the sound of everyone closing
up their textbooks and packing up their backpacks.

Class is over at 8:30 pm, so as long as I walk out with a
group of people, I feel safe trekking through the rather poorly lit parking lot.
Christina, the quiet and mousy girl who sits next to me, walks with me to my
car. “I’m only a few down.” She angles her head down the line of parked cars
where her lights flash and her alarm chirps. “I’ll get coffee next week. Large,
hazelnut, with skim milk, right?” Her eyes squint together as she recalls my
order from the last time she bought the coffee.

“Perfect. Thanks, Chrissy.” She walks toward her car and
waves. “See you next week.”

I don’t particularly like having to take night classes, but
since I have to work during the day time, there really isn’t much choice. I’ve
taken every weekend and off-session class that the local school offers. I
decided early on I wanted to double major in business and early childhood
development. I eventually want to run my own day care center, and with each
class I cross off my list, the more excited I grow at the possibilities that
wait for me.

The drive back home passes in a blur. In short, Fridays
suck. Nothing screams get me the freak home like an eight-hour workday,
followed by a three-hour class that you didn’t want to take in the first place.
Yeah, that about sums up my day. So as the gate to my complex comes into view,
it’s almost as if I can feel the weight of the day—and the week for that
matter—lifting from my shoulders.

I never really thought of it until we moved in here
together, but I can’t even begin to tell you how important it is to come home
to a turned-on porch light. The dim light from the front window, adding to the
soft glow of the flickering porch light, lets me know that Reid is waiting up
for me, as usual.

“Hey, hun,” I call out from the front door. “The baby asleep
already?”

Reid peeks around the corner of the kitchen into the living
room. With a rather mischievous grin on his face, he winks at me. “Nope.” His
face disappears behind the corner again.

Okay, cryptic much
.

Stepping into the kitchen and dining room combo, I now
understand what the goofy smile was all about. He’s got a romantic, candle-lit
dinner for two all set up. Unable to hide the shock in my voice, or on my face,
Reid just laughs at me as he hands me a glass of wine.

“You cooked?”

He kisses my cheek quickly. “Don’t sound so surprised. It’d
be more impressive if
you
cooked.” He pulls a face at me and I roll my
eyes—our usual M.O. for mocking one another. “But, no I didn’t cook, this time.
I dropped Braden off at Momma’s for a sleepover and she cooked. I did at least
plan the night, so do I get some credit for that?”

I lean my head on his shoulder as he pulls me to his side.
“Of course you do, babe. This is perfect.” He kisses the top of my head and
then moves to pull out a chair for me.

“Here, sit.” As he busies himself with finishing our plates,
I enjoy my glass of wine and let the day melt away. Seriously, nothing can beat
a quiet, home-cooked meal with my man at the end of a crazy-ass week. Watching
him move around the kitchen with such finesse and grace isn’t so bad either.

He puts my plate in front of me and slides into the seat at
my side. “So, how was your day?” Reid asks as he digs into the crust of Momma’s
world famous chicken potpie. Okay, fine. It’s not
world
famous, but it’s
damn good.

“It was okay.” I tell him about the updates to the computer
system at work and how they’re really not all bad, despite how much some people
are still bitching about them. I seriously think that some people just enjoy
complaining. “And then class was…umm, let’s go with mind-numbingly boring.” We
share a laugh over it. He knows that politics is my least favorite class ever.

Speaking around a mouthful of food, I ask him about his day.
There’s an awkward pause for a second as he puts down his fork and wipes his
mouth with his napkin. “I guess you could say it was interesting.” His tone has
me a bit wary. Interesting in his line of work could range from a high school
girl hitting on him—don’t laugh; it’s happened before—to a scared and lonely
teenager doing harm to himself. The concerned look on his face, as he scrubs
his hand over his stubbled jawline, tells me that it’s the latter that’s bothering
him.

I put my hand on top of his and lightly stroke my thumb over
his wrist. “What happened? Was it about the call you and Dylan have been
working on?”

“Yeah, we got another call from the girl this morning. She
mentioned the same name as the last call—Cane. But, she wouldn’t identify
herself. We called the school and set up a meeting with the principal this
afternoon to see if he might know who would be calling or why someone would
mention Cane’s name.”

“Did he tell you anything? I mean, does the principal know
who the girl is who keeps calling?”

“He didn’t say anything, but I got the feeling he was hiding
something.” Reid takes a chug of his water before adding, “Dylan thinks the
same thing. We just can’t figure out what it is he’s not telling us. Even when
we asked the principal if the kid had any close female friends who would know
him enough to call in about him, he just shrugged his shoulder. Turns out Cane
is kind of a loner. The principal says he rarely sees him with anyone,
actually.”

“I’m sorry, Reid. I wish you could have found out at least
something. Maybe the girl will call back,” I add hopefully, as he stands to
clear the table.

“On the one hand, I hope she does. I want to figure out who
she is, but on the other hand, I hope that things—whatever things are going on
that she can’t talk about yet—don’t get so bad that she
has
to continue
calling.” Though he shrugs his shoulders, I know he’s got anything but
“whatever” feelings about it.

I watch him as he stands in front of the sink cleaning the
few dishes that we dirtied. Watching the flex and pull of his broad shoulders
under the thin cotton of his t-shirt, makes my insides go warm. I stand behind
him and wrap my arms around his narrow waist. Hooking my thumbs into the
belt-loops of his jeans, I press my cheek up against the solid warmth of his
back.

Trying to lighten the mood, I laugh as I ask, “So you didn’t
get asked to prom this time, huh?” I feel his chest vibrate as he chuckles.
Some overly flirty senior actually did ask him to prom this past June when he
was at her school for an end-of-the-year workshop. He tried to let her down
easy; not wanting to assault her ego; he said he was happily married. She
openly scoffed his rejection by popping her hip and squeezing her boobs together
as she told him that it was his loss. “Nah, no prom dates. A few whistles and
stares though.” He laughs some more and he turns and pulls me to his chest.

I poke him playfully in the ribs. “Well, that’s good. I
wouldn’t want you to think you were losing your touch or anything like that.”

“First of all, they’re high school girls, so um thanks but
no thanks. And most importantly,” he gently brushes his lips across mine in a
move so sensual that I can’t help but press my body into his, “I’ve already got
the most beautiful woman in the world.”

I let my hands roam across his back, before not-so-gently,
grasping his perfect ass. With lips quirked in a seductive smile, I squeeze him
once more to punctuate my words. “Damn straight you do. Now, take me to bed.”

Without warning, he bends down and tucks his arm under my
knees. I loop my arms around his neck gasping in surprise. “With pleasure, my
love,” he mumbles against my neck as he whisks me down the hall into our room.

After gently placing my feet on the floor, he stares
intently into my eyes. He speaks no words, but his face could recite poetry.
Thumbs softly brush across my cheekbones while he cups my jawline with such
tenderness that leaning into his touch is instinctual. Without breaking his
intense stare, he glides my top over my head. With quick fingers, my bra is
unclasped and dangling before me. My skin chills in the cool air and my nipples
pebble under the lusty look in Reid’s eyes.

When I reach for him—to rip his shirt off, to push his jeans
to the floor—he cages my small wrist in his strong grasp. “Shhh. Wait,” he
hushes as he finishes undressing me. I kick my jeans to the side and watch in
utter amazement as he pulls his T-shirt up from behind. His body is my
weakness; I tremble at the mere sight of his muscles rippling and flexing with
his deliberate movements. In one swift move, he strips himself of his jeans and
boxers. My mouth waters ravenously. My pulse races quickly. My insides tighten
deliciously.

Reid takes me by surprise when he picks me up once more.
Afraid to lose my balance, I wrap my legs around his waist. His deep blue eyes
are burning with passion. I lean forward to kiss him needing to feel his lips
against mine. I’m more than a little angry when he pulls back and shakes his
head. “I want to take my time with you, go slow. There’s no rush. I’m going to
kiss every inch of your body. Run my tongue along every line and curve. I’m
going to bring you to the edge of your control, just to ease you back. Drive
you crazy.” He plants a heated kiss to each corner of my mouth before pressing
his full lips flush against mine. He licks, nips and tugs on my lower lip. When
his tongue slides into my mouth, I lose hold on my control. I kiss him back
with as much passion and love as I can muster.

Our mingled breath is hot and heavy. His exhales become my
inhales. As if we weren’t already, we become even more entwined with one
another. He overwhelms every single one of my senses. His purely masculine
scent—clean and earthy with just a hint of soap and cologne; his uniquely Reid
taste—lust mixed with desire pushes me over the edge. The feel of his muscles
bunching under my fingertips spurs on my desire to run my hands over every
single centimeter of flawless male beauty holding me up.

As if he can tell that I need more of him, he lowers us to the
bed. The feel of his erection pressing firmly into my stomach makes me crave
him even more. I arch my back and press my hips up into his, searching for some
kind of release from the beautiful torment his lips and tongue are unleashing
on my breasts. As he wraps his mouth around my hardened nipple, a low moan
escapes from mine. Lacing my fingers through his silky hair, I hold his head in
place. He alternates between hard sucks and gentle nips until my sensitive skin
is on fire. “Reid…please…”

“I know, baby. I know.” He swipes his thumb across my lower
lip and I lick it seductively. His eyes widen as I wrap my fingers around his
wrist. Pulling his finger into my mouth, I suck and lick. Grazing my teeth over
it forces a hiss of air to pass through his lips. I push his hand away from my
face down to where I want it to go.

“Use your hands, please. I need to feel you touch me.” The
erotic groan of my words is accentuated by the rhythmic gyrating of my hips.
Reid grips my hip with one hand, stilling my movements. His other hand hovers
about my mound and I’m arching, stretching, reaching for him to touch me. But,
the further I reach, the harder he holds me in place.

“Stay still, Maddy,” he commands in his sexy-as-fuck voice
that I’ll never be able to ignore.