Whatever Life Throws at You (26 page)

Chapter 26

“Where’s Brody?” Savannah turns around and glances back into the hotel lobby. “I thought he was coming to dinner with us?”

I bite back an angry and completely invalid response and plop down on the steps in front of the circle drive, not caring if my dress gets dirty. Dad joins Savannah in looking around for Brody while one of the other pitchers in our group starts laughing.

“I think he’s busy picking up chicks in the bar on the top floor.”

Lenny glances warily at me, then snaps at the pitcher, “How do you know that?”

“Some girl just tweeted a picture,” he says, shaking a finger in front of Lenny’s face.

She pulls out her phone immediately, but I tuck my hands underneath me, forcing myself to steer clear of Twitter pictures of my maybe-ex-boyfriend who’s pissed at me for helping him with something he didn’t have the balls to do himself. Screw that.

“He’s not coming,” I shout at Dad and Savannah. “Can we go already? I’m starving.”

Both of them spin around to face me, and Dad says, “What’s with you?”

I’m scowling at no one in particular, so Lenny hooks her arm through mine, pulling me to my feet. “She’s not cut out for shopping with me, that’s all. I wouldn’t let her stop for ice cream or Cinnabon.”

“Yeah, it was just one disappointment after another,” I say.

I don’t think I fooled anyone, but they decide to leave me alone for now. Lenny sits next to me in the car on the way to the restaurant.

All through dinner, Dad and Savannah keep bringing up Jason Brody and how awesome he is, how impressed Larry Johnson is with the endorsements he’s been getting and his potential for being awarded Rookie of the Year. I just sit there stabbing my steak and stuffing so much food in my mouth, I won’t be expected to chime in.

It’s not that I’m not hurt and fighting the urge to cry over a tub of ice cream and charge chick flicks from the hotel room TV to Lenny’s parents’ credit card—I am. But it’s easier to let anger dominate. Anger I can deal with. A broken heart is something I haven’t experienced yet. Besides, what are my options? Apologize? I’m not sorry for helping him. I’m not sorry for caring, for defending him to his mom. That’s fucking stupid.

“Oh, look,” Third Base says during dinner, holding his phone out to Lenny and me. “He’s getting mobbed in the lobby. Maybe we shouldn’t have left him alone?”

“I doubt he’s alone.” I poke my steak again.
Stab, stab, stab
. “And I’m sure he’ll be fine.”

I wasn’t even going to go to the game. And now that Brody is finally entering during the sixth inning, I’m really wishing I had listened to my angry girlfriend voice.

Lenny elbows me in the side. “You should probably wipe that scowl off your face before the camera swivels in our direction.”

My cheeks relax, but I’m still cursing Brody inside my head. Why did he have to throw the one insult at me that I can’t handle—calling me a child? It’s what I’ve been afraid of since we first became friends. Maybe ever since I dropped my notebook in the locker room and got his attention.

“That’s better.” Lenny passes a giant bag of popcorn from her lap to mine.

I busy myself stuffing handful after handful into my mouth while Brody warms up. He’s fumbling the ball like I’ve never seen him do before. The popcorn lodges in my throat, my fingers freezing inside the bag—something’s wrong.

This is worse than his warm-up on opening day. But we’re up by three runs. That’s a small cushion for error, at least.

Seven pitches later, Brody has walked the White Sox batter, and Dad is now pacing in the dugout. What the hell? Dad never paces. His nervous position is always the motionless statue Dad. Is he angry? Worried?

Jesus Christ. Can’t I just get one day to be pissed off at my boyfriend and not have to worry about Brody’s or Dad’s jobs? Is that too much to ask?

Brody’s gaze is locked on the field. He’s not even attempting to glance toward the stands where Lenny and I are seated near the third base line. And he’s definitely not looking toward the empty seats that would belong to his mother, had she decided to come and see her son play.

No, don’t go feeling sorry for him. You’re pissed, remember?

Brody’s next pitch is straight over the plate but not fast enough. The crack of the bat against the ball causes my stomach to sink. The ball soars way out toward center. Seconds later, Brody ends up with the ball again and the job of stopping the runner he walked earlier from advancing to third. He completely overthrows and sends Third Base scrambling for the ball behind him.

The error gives just enough room for the White Sox runner to take off for home plate. Brody darts forward to help the catcher cover home plate, but it’s too late.

The White Sox score, and they’ve got a runner on second base.

I stare at the giant stadium screen, my mouth hanging open in shock while Brody’s shitty throw to third is replayed over and over, along with the White Sox runner’s slide into home plate.

Oh God, what did I do?
I rattled him. This is my fault. I know it’s my fault.

I toss the popcorn back at Lenny so I can wring my hands in my lap.

Brody takes the mound again, the cheers in the stadium erupting to an ear-damaging level. They stop replaying Brody’s error, and the camera zooms in on his face. There are hints of fear and panic on Brody’s face that I haven’t seen from him before.

He draws in a breath, gripping the ball in his right hand. I run my palms over my jeans, wiping off the sweat. Brody’s next pitch is a bad attempt at a curveball. Frank throws his hands up in the air and Dad finally stops pacing.

Oh God. I just screwed over the team. They’re gonna lose this game and then the White Sox are going to advance to the next round…

Brody shakes off the call from the catcher twice before pitching. It’s right down the strike zone and a little too slow for the batter to miss. He sends a line drive toward the mound. I gasp, my hand flying up to cover my mouth as the ball smacks Brody right in the chest.

My heart pounds, and panic floods through my veins.

Brody reacts immediately, obvious pain on his face, but he scoops up the ball and makes the throw to first before dropping to his knees.

I jump to my feet, looking around for a way down to the field. Lenny pulls me back to reality, grabbing my shirt and tugging until I’m in my seat again.

“You can’t go down there,” she says in a low voice and with a level of concern that surprises me.

The umpire calls a time-out, while Dad, Frank, several players, and the team doctor gather around the mound. Brody is rubbing his chest, still kneeling but attempting to stand. Dad presses on his shoulders to keep him in place.

Oh God, oh God, oh God
. “This is my fault,” I mumble, not meaning to speak out loud.

“No, Annie,” Lenny says right away. “Stop it.”

But no matter what logic I come up with, I can’t untie the huge knot of guilt forming in my stomach.

Finally, after what feels like hours, Brody gets to his feet, and Frank calls another pitcher in from the bullpen. I sigh with relief when Brody manages to walk unassisted to the dugout, and my eyes never leave him the rest of the game. He keeps his head down, and his hand continues to periodically rub his chest where the ball hit him. I don’t even know the final score until Lenny and I are walking up the steps to exit the stadium. I glance over my shoulder and look while the scoreboard is still in view.

We won. The Royals are officially in a pennant race.

Later on, when we’re back at the hotel, I still don’t know for sure if we broke up or not. I’m still pissed at him. I don’t understand his argument, and I truly believe it’s pride and embarrassment that caused him to lash out, but that doesn’t stop me from jumping to my feet and heading out the door when he texts me again an hour later.

BRODY: I’m in room 518 if u want to talk.

Chapter 27

The door to Brody’s room swings open, and yes, I feel super guilty still about rattling him for the game today, but I’m ready to argue again. I’m ready to make him see my side of it. To make sure he knows that I’d do a lot more for him than go behind his back and contact his mom for information. I’d make a lot of sacrifices for this boy, and that should mean something to him. He said I wasn’t taking us seriously, but maybe I’m the one who’s in too deep?

Brody leans against the doorframe, his expression unreadable. “Savannah sends her money every month,” he says quietly.

All the words and sentences I’d rehearsed in the elevator fall away. “Who? Your mom? What for?”

He nods and then opens the door to let me in. I shuffle in behind him, and after we’re in the privacy of his room, he answers my questions. “Last year, my stepdad and my sister were in a car accident. They’re okay, but they’ve been through a lot of surgeries and rehab. Since the accident was his fault, there wasn’t much insurance coverage. I tried to go home and visit after I found out about the car crash, but she told me to stay away, that she’d just moved and was finally free of my bad connections. When I signed my official contract with the Royals, I told Savannah that I wanted to help but knew my mom would never let me. Savannah made up an organization that offered financial help to public school employees who have overwhelming medical bills.”

I’m stunned to silence and finally croak out a couple words. “So she doesn’t know where the money comes from?”
Obviously. He’s said that twice already.

“I’m guessing she probably does now.” He looks down at his hands. My heart is pounding, knowing I might have really screwed up. “But I know your heart was in the right place. It’s just frustrating not to be able to help like I can. I have money now. Way more than I need.”

I stand near the end of the bed, my legs turning to jelly. How could something be so clear one minute and then present a completely different picture the next? “You think she won’t take the money anymore?”

He laughs bitterly. “If I know my mom well enough, she’s probably going to attempt to return the money I’ve already sent.”

My face must reflect the horror I feel because Brody moves closer and touches my hair. “This wouldn’t have happened if I’d told you more, so stop looking like you’ve just murdered a dozen kittens.”

“Maybe,” I say, trying to free myself of the guilt. But in truth, telling me something like this would have been risky. I don’t need to know what he does with his money. Unless he wants me to know, and I have to assume that he’ll say something if this is the case—
Oh God
…

An overwhelming sense of dread hits me, accompanying the truth of what I’ve done. And then my eyes latch onto a huge gift basket placed in the center of his king-size bed. Right on top of the candy and snacks only young bachelors would enjoy is a big box of condoms. My eyes widen, my heart speeding up, my mouth falling open, but no words exit.

Brody follows my gaze and tenses immediately. “Those are not— I mean, they’re a gift; I didn’t buy them, and if I had, it would be for us, not anyone else.”

A hundred emotions hit me all at once, and I sit down on the edge of the bed, covering my face with my hands.
Oh God. Condoms…

Brody squats down in front of me, prying my hands from my face. “Hey, what’s wrong?”

“I lied to you.” I can’t meet his gaze. “You trusted me. You got me to talk about stuff and be upfront and I lied. I told you I’ve done everything at least once, and I haven’t.”

He stiffens, but I can tell he’s trying not to show any signs of shock. “Sex…we’re talking about sex, right?”

“Yeah.” I chance a glimpse into his now very wide brown eyes as he exhales and inhales a couple times.

He stands up and takes a seat beside me on the bed. “Let me get this straight—you’re a virgin?” I nod and hold back the long speech I delivered to Lenny regarding my opinions on this definition. He grips the footboard with both hands. “Okay, I did not see that one coming. I mean, I was surprised when you told me you weren’t, but since then—”

“I’m sorry.” I don’t know why, but I suddenly feel like crying. “I’m just really scared right now,” I say as a feeble attempt to explain the tears.

Brody turns me to face him. “Scared of what, Annie? I’d never rush you into something you’re not comfortable with. Please tell me you know that by now? I think I’d hate myself if you were this upset over having to say no.”

I hear the frustration he’s biting back, probably because I’m so visibly upset. “I’m not scared of that. I’m scared that you aren’t going to believe me if I say I’m ready. That you’re always going to wonder if I’m lying or if I’m acting out of impulse and not thinking things through.” I meet his eyes again. “I’m scared that I ruined everything, that I’m too young for you, and that if I tell you I love you, there’s no way it will mean what it does when you say it to me.”

He draws in a quick breath after I spill that last part. I can’t believe I said it out loud. Brody stares at me for the length of two heartbeats, and then he moves closer and wraps his arms around me. I’m trying to catch my breath and stop crying, but for some reason my cheek against his chest brings the full-on sobs.

“Annie,” he whispers into my hair. “If you weren’t ready to be with me, then you wouldn’t be this upset about lying. Or about what happened with my mom.”

I turn my head, pushing my face against his shirt. “You’re right. We have to tell my dad.” That’s what people who are serious about their relationships do.

“Yeah, we do.” He tightens his hold on me, planting a kiss on the side of my face. “This is really hard for you, isn’t it? You’re afraid of ending up like him, not being able to let go?”

I answer by wiping more tears onto his shirt.

“I know I’m quite a catch, but you’d never stay hung up on me forever.” He laughs against my hair. “Probably not even half of forever. Controlling everything isn’t going to make it easier to let go. That’s what you’re doing, you know? Keeping the ball in your court.”

My arms go around his neck, and I give him a tight squeeze before standing up. I lift the bottom of my Royals T-shirt and wipe my face with it one last time. “I don’t want to be that way anymore. I’m trying, I promise.”

“Okay.” He gives me a half smile and lifts my palm to his lips. “That’s good enough for me.”

I sniff again, laughing a little. “Why am I always crying? I never used to cry.”

He pushes up to his feet. “Do you want me to cry, too? Will that help? And where are you going?”

I’ve taken a few steps toward the door, and I’m reaching for the handle now. “Back to my room. I figured you’d want me to leave, since…”
I don’t know what I’m saying now. I’m confused. Did we break up? Are we back together? Does he not want me now that he knows I’m a virgin?

He leans against the door, preventing me from exiting. “What are you really scared of? I’ll give you this one free-access pass. I’ll believe whatever you tell me, but think before you speak.”

I take a deep breath. “I love you. I really think it’s true, but I’m afraid you’ll never see me as anything but the reckless kid who ruined things with your mom. That I’ll never be an adult in your eyes.”

Brody slides closer, leaving very little space between us. “I said those things because I got scared and then angry, Annie. I didn’t mean them.” He picks up a strand of my hair, twirling it around his finger. “I promise…I don’t think of you as a kid right now.”

I swallow back my nerves. I need to show him I’m old enough to know what I want. “I want this…you and me…together.”

Brody keeps his eyes locked with mine and raises a hand, sliding the chain over the lock. Then he tugs me by the waist until we’re pressed together. My heart thuds so loudly the second his mouth meets mine.

The kiss is slow at first, and then it’s deep and I’m being lifted off the ground. I wrap my legs around Brody’s waist, and his hands are sliding under my shirt. He pauses, breathing hard, gripping me tightly, lips on my neck. “You can change your mind anytime. I won’t be upset, I promise. I’ll only be upset if you change your mind and don’t tell me.”

I answer him by bringing my mouth to his again, tangling my fingers in his hair. He drops me onto the bed, shoving the gift basket to the floor. Our clothes fall on top of it, one article at a time. When I finally get a good look at Brody’s chest, I gently trace the red welt where the baseball hit him. It’s already bruising. “I nearly had a heart attack at the game…”

Brody surprises me by smiling. “Yeah, my head went somewhere else. I need to work on that.”

I touch my lips to his. “Or we can just never fight again so you have nothing to distract you or throw you off.”

The smile fades from his face, and he presses our foreheads together, closing his eyes. “We’re going to be adults about this and tell your dad tomorrow, okay? No more sneaking around.”

This time, I don’t try to stall or manipulate him out of this plan. I nod and swallow back a gallon of fear. “No more sneaking around,” I agree.

Brody grins. “After tonight.”

“After tonight…”

This isn’t like last month in his apartment when he laid back and let me lead the expedition. It’s obvious who’s in charge, and maybe this is his way of testing me, knowing I need to practice handing over control.

Brody pauses after spending several minutes kissing my neck. He lifts his head and hovers over me, our foreheads almost touching. “Stop thinking so much. I can hear your brain turning in circles.”

I reach up and take his face in my hands. “I’m sorry. I’m just a little…”

“Nervous?” he finishes. I bite my lip, afraid he’s going to stop this activity, and I don’t want that, either. “You trust me, right?”

I take several seconds to think over what that really means. I trust him to do what? Hold my wallet without stealing anything? Throw a baseball at me without giving me a concussion? Love me and never stop loving me? There are so many levels of trust—I can’t commit to the word as a whole.

“I trust you with some things, just not everything…yet,” I add.

“Good answer.” He smiles and leans down to kiss my lips. “Trust me to make sure you enjoy this, okay? That’s my job, but you have to let me have it. It’s like handing over the remote control and trusting me to pick a show you like.”

I give a nervous laugh. “I hate the History channel. And it’s your favorite.”

He’s back to working his mouth down my neck and over my collarbone. “I have a feeling we’ll have no problem finding mutual ground tonight.”

I run my hands through his hair, combing through it and anticipating whatever he has planned next. I’m not going to think. Just feel.

He slides down to my body, kissing me in all the right places, causing me to breathe more loudly than I’d like. And then his hands join his mouth in exploring my body.

My hands grow tingly, my toes going numb. I let go of Brody’s hair and grip the sheets, my eyelids falling. His lips drift down my stomach and eventually touch the inside of my thigh. I didn’t really anticipate his mouth going
there
. But I’m too caught up in the feeling, the intensity, to worry.

My entire body is hot and buzzing. I’m trying to hold off, to not be as easy to carry across the finish line, but a minute later, I’m balling the sheets in my hands and clamping my jaw shut to prevent making any embarrassing sounds as I race to the finish.

Colors light up behind my eyes—possibly from lack of oxygen—and my limbs turn to jelly. I feel like I’ve taken Vicodin or drank a few glasses of wine—relaxed and fuzzy.

Brody takes a condom from the box and rolls it over himself.

Before I can even think about what’s happening or tense up and make it a difficult task, he slides carefully inside me. I feel some pulling and stretching, but it’s not painful like I’ve heard from other people. Brody holds my face with one hand, trying to get my attention. He smiles at me. “You’re still in there, right?”

I return the smile and wrap my arms around him, pulling his mouth to mine. He’s moving slowly, probably not wanting to hurt me, and I’m so filled with emotion, it’s like I can’t turn it off. But this isn’t the life-changing moment like people always say. For us, I think our big moment happened at the lake that night and then in his car and his bedroom…

The more I love him, the better all the physical stuff gets.

Later on, in the bathroom, I clean up and snatch the white terry cloth hotel robe from the back of the bathroom door and wrap it around me.

Brody’s lying across the bed, wearing his usual black boxer briefs. He smiles and tugs my hand, pulling me down next to him.

“You look really happy for someone who had an off game and got hit with a hundred-and-thirty-mile-per-hour baseball,” I say.

“It sucked,” he admits. “But mostly because I didn’t feel like you were there with me, you know? And if I have that, then I can handle all the other stuff.”

Okay, so he hasn’t said he loves me even though I said it to him, but
that
…that’s kinda better. It’s real. “And if you manage to throw a little faster next time…” I tease.

His eyebrows shoot up, and he flips me over onto my back, pinning my arms above my head. My heartbeat speeds up, my breath quickening. “Faster, huh? Just like that?”

“Isn’t that what they pay you to do?” It feels great to get back to being us. At least until tomorrow when we talk to Dad. That’s gonna be…Yeah, I’m not thinking about it yet.

Brody puts his full weight on top of me, kissing me hard, flinging the sides of the hotel robe open so our skin can touch.

The phone in the hotel room rings, startling both of us. Brody glances at it, then returns his focus to my face.

“Don’t you need to answer that?” I ask. “Even though you practically got knocked out today, we did still win, and we’re going to the playoffs. I bet everyone wants to celebrate with you and interview you.”

He leans down and kisses me again. “It can wait until morning. And I
am
celebrating, aren’t you?”

I laugh and nod at the same time. “Totally.”