Play Safe (Make the Play Book 1) Page 14

“So how does it feel to be sloppy seconds?”

  I stop jogging, and face him. “What did you say?”

  “C’mon, you and I both know she’s only with you because she can’t have me.”

  I chuckle. Dude’s grasping at straws. “She broke up with you, man. Time to face reality.”

  “Technically, yes, but I haven’t wanted that slut for a long time, and she knew it. Hell, she probably knew about all the girls I had on the side too. I mean, one of them was her best friend, after all.”

  I see red. Coach Hopkins calls our names, but I ignore him. Shit’s going down now. I don’t even warn him. I don’t say a word. It’s not like I think it will be a surprise. He has to know it’s been a long time coming. Bringing my arm back, I hurl it forward, my fist connecting with his face. His head snaps back, his body reeling backwards. I don’t hesitate. In quick succession I hit him again. That’s when I hear our teammates yelling. I can see them coming toward us out of the corner of my eye, but I don’t turn. I’m focused solely on Josh.

  He comes at me, but I block his arm and hit him again. Blood pours from his nose. Tackling him to the ground, I pin him down, and cock my arm to hit him again. He looks pathetic lying in the grass trying to writhe out of my grasp.

  “Chris!” Cal’s voice rings out. “Stop, man.” His hand lands on my arm – the one I’m about to hit Josh with – and he pulls hard. I attempt to yank my arm away from Cal, but he holds on tighter. “Chris, seriously, calm down.”

  “Break it up, boys!” Coach Hopkins booms.

  The sound of Coach’s voice takes some of the fight out of me. Exhaling, I stand. Chase and Nolan race over to Josh, helping him up.

  “What the hell is going on?” Cal asks.

  Josh stands, wiping blood from his face. “Why don’t you tell him, Chris?”

  Shaking my head, I glare. “If I were you, I’d keep my mouth shut.”

  “You want to know what’s going on? Chris is messing around with your sister, Cal. And it’s been happening for awhile.”

  Cal’s head swivels, his eyes piercing mine. “Is this true?”

  I swallow hard.

  “Tell me he’s a lying piece of shit, Chris!” Cal’s face reddens in frustration.

  “Well, he is a lying piece of shit, but--”

  “No!” Cal shouts. “No way. This is unbelievable.”

  “It’s not the way it sounds.” I rub my throbbing knuckles.

  “So it’s not true then? You’re not messing around with Emmy?”

  “No, we’re not really messing around. I mean, we kissed, but---”

  “You kissed my sister?”

  “Okay, gentlemen. This is not a soap opera, and it’s definitely not a boxing rink,” Coach Hopkins says. “Deal with your girl drama off the field.”

  Chase and Nolan help Josh off the field while the other players scatter. Cal shakes his head in disgust.

  “I expect this crap from Josh. Hell, I’d expect it from any of the guys on the team. But not you.”

  “Come on, man--” I start, but he stops me.

  “I don’t want to hear it. I don’t want to hear anything from you. I’m outta here.” Tearing his hat off, he starts walking off the field.

  “What about practice?” Cal has never missed a practice. Ever.

  “I’m not practicing today.” With his head down, he sprints toward the locker rooms.

  My heart sinks as I watch him. It’s not how I wanted him to find out. Emmy and I made a pact that we would do it together. That we’d break it to him gently. Emmy asked me earlier if violence is how I solve everything, and it’s a valid question. My temper is always getting me in trouble, and it seems like today is no exception.

  EMMY

  “What the hell is going on with you and Chris?” Cal rushes into the kitchen where I’m sitting at the counter doing my homework. When I first heard a car pull up outside I assumed it was the neighbor. Cal isn’t supposed to be home yet.

  “Why aren’t you at baseball practice?” I set my pen down on top of my notebook.

  “Damn it, Em, don’t change the subject.” He slams his hand down on the counter, and I flinch. My pen slides off the paper and rolls across the counter. Flinging my hand out, I stop it.

  “What’s all the noise about?” Mom races out of her office, her eyes wild.

  “Emmy’s been hooking up with Chris,” Cal yells.

  Kill me now. I sink down in my chair.

  “Really?” Mom’s eyebrows shoot up, her lips curling upward. “Well, this is interesting.”

  “Mom, this is not one of your romance novels. This is real life,” Cal says, grunting in frustration.

  “What’s real life?” Dad enters the kitchen, a folder under his arm.

  Great. Just what I need. More of an audience.

  “Emmy and Christian have been messing around.” Cal points at me like we’re in a courtroom and the judge asked him to point out the perp.

  “We’re not messing around,” I say when Dad turns to me with an incredulous look.

  “Really? Cause that’s not what I heard,” Cal says.

  “Who told you?” I ask.

  “Does it matter?” Cal’s eyes flash.

  “It’s just that Christian and I were gonna tell you together.” I scratch my head, feeling blindsided by this whole thing. And where is Christian? Still at practice? Something about this smells fishy.

  “Since when do you and Chris conspire against me?” Darkness flashes in Cal’s eyes.

  “We’re not conspiring against anyone!”

  “Okay, everyone calm down,” Dad says, using his best teacher voice. Cal and I have always teased him about his tone only working on his students, not on us.

  “I can’t calm down.” Cal exhales, running a hand over his head. Then he looks straight at me. “You two aren’t…you know…doing it, are you?”

  “No!” I answer vehemently, and I swear I see Dad sigh in relief. “Definitely not. We just kissed. That’s it. I promise.”

  “Did he kiss you or did you kiss him?” Cal leans toward me.

  I furrow my brows. “We kissed each other. It was mutual. Why?”

  “I just want to make sure he didn’t force himself on you or something,” Cal says.

  “You know Christian would never do that.” I’m shocked at his words. He knows Christian better than anyone.

  He shrugs. “And I wanted to make sure you didn’t force yourself on him.”

  I reel back, offended. “What? That’s crazy.”

  “C’mon, we all know you’ve had a crush on him for years,” Cal answers matter-of-factly, and Mom and Dad nod in agreement. My stomach sours.

  “I guess it’s better than her being with that other kid. What’s his name? Josh?” Dad says.

  “I actually think Christian and Emmy make a cute couple,” Mom muses.

  “Eww…no. This is not happening.” Cal shakes his head, closing his eyes as if he’s trying to erase the whole thing.

  “Would you rather have her be with someone who doesn’t treat her well?” Mom asks, and I’m grateful for her words. At least someone’s in my corner.

  “Like Josh?” I add, hoping Cal can see reason. He’s been wanting Josh out of my life for so long.

  “Yeah, well, Josh is the reason I found all this out.” Cal pins me with a challenging stare. “Christian beat the crap out of him at practice today, and when I went to break it up Josh told me about you and Chris. Said you’d been messing around for awhile.”

  My stomach drops. How did Josh know? The minute the thought enters, understanding dawns on me. “Ashley,” I mutter under my breath.

  “What?” Cal asks.

  “Nothing,” I say. “Is Christian okay?”

  “Of course. There’s not a scratch on him.” Pride colors his tone. “Josh didn’t fare as well though.”

  I can’t help the smile that leaps to my face. Josh definitely got what was coming to him.

  “But you and Chris are done,” Cal says with fi
nality.

  “You can’t tell me what to do.” I jump up, my gaze darting to Mom and Dad, willing them to step in. Generally they don’t involve themselves in disputes between the two of us, but right now I need them to do something.

  “Really? You’re gonna pull that shit after what happened yesterday?” Cal throws up his arms in exasperation. “When you found out Ashley and I were hooking up you totally lost it.”

  “You and Ashley?” Mom looks stunned.

  “What are we running here? A brothel?” Dad knits his eyebrows together.

  “That was completely different, Cal,” I say, ignoring Mom and Dad.

  “No, it wasn’t,” he insists. “And I broke it off with Ashley so now you can break it off with Chris. End of discussion.” He slices his arm through the air like it’s a sword, and then stomps out of the room.

  That went well.

  ****

  I wait until I know Christian is home from practice and then I call him. He answers almost immediately. I’ve been on edge all night. Ever since Cal came racing in here, accusing me and telling me what to do, my nerves have been frayed. I never expected Cal to embrace the idea of Christian and me right away, but I thought he’d be more understanding than he was. After his display this afternoon, I’m not sure he’ll ever accept Christian and I being together.

  “I heard what happened.” Sitting on my bed, I rest my head against the headboard, the phone pressed to my ear.

  “I’m sorry about Josh,” Christian says. “He started talking shit about you, and I just lost it.”

  “I figured that’s what happened,” I say. “And of course I’m not mad. How can I be when you were just defending me?” Truth is, I don’t think I would’ve ever been angry with him for beating up Josh. The guy’s a pain in the ass. Besides, I’ve seen with him Christian. He’s always pushing his buttons. At some point he had to know Christian would snap. Christian’s temper isn’t exactly a secret.

  “I know, but if I’d never hit the guy, Cal wouldn’t have found out about you and me the way he did.”

  “Maybe not, but you don’t know. Josh might have said something anyway.”

  “I don’t even know how he knew. I mean, he said he saw us together after school, but we were just talking.”

  “I’m pretty sure he found out from Ashley.” Sullenly, I trace the seam on my bedspread with my fingertip. “Man, I’m such an idiot. I never should’ve trusted her.”

  “Hey, no more sad talk, okay? You have me. You don’t need Ashley.”

  I smile. She was never a good friend anyway. “You’re right. Besides, we have enough to worry about with Cal.”

  “Has he calmed down at all?” Christian asks.

  “No, he’s pretty pissed,” I say. “Honestly, I’m worried that he’ll never accept this.”

  “Don’t worry about Cal. I’ll talk to him. He’ll come around.”

  “I hope you’re right.” Glancing out my window, my gaze floats to the sky, and I find myself silently counting the twinkling stars.

  “Eight,” Christian says abruptly.

  “Huh?”

  “I count eight stars out my window. How many do you see?”

  Startled, I glance around. “Have you hidden a nanny-cam or something in here?”

  Christian’s laugh floats through the line. “I don’t need a camera to know what you’re doing. I’ve known you almost my entire life, and you’re always counting something. At night you count the stars.”

  Sighing, I lie back, resting my head on the bed again. My gaze returns out the window. “You think it’s weird, don’t you?” I never tell people about my compulsive counting. I’m afraid they’ll think I’m a freak. And I’m kind of embarrassed that Christian knows about it. The only other person who does is Cal and he teases me at every opportunity.

  “Not at all. I get why you do it.”

  “Because I’m neurotic?” I joke.

  “No,” Christian says. “If you’re neurotic, then I am too.”

  “Why? Do you count things too?” I thought I knew almost everything about Christian, but this is new.

  “Sort of,” he says. “You know the grandfather clock we have in our family room?”

  “Yeah, the one that goes off every hour.” I snort. “I have no idea how that doesn’t drive you and your mom nuts.”

  “Truth is, it would drive me nuts if it didn’t go off. Back in fifth grade it stopped working and Mom had to get it repaired. It didn’t chime for almost a week, and it drove me mad. I find comfort in that clock,” he explains. “Mom got it the same year she told me about my dad. I was seven. She told me about him because he sent me a birthday card, and she let me call him to say thank you. But he never called back.”

  My stomach knots as I picture little seven-year-old Christian waiting for a return call from his dad. “I’m sorry,” I say quietly.

  “Story of my life.” He chuckles bitterly. “But then Mom got the clock and it chimed every hour on the hour. It never missed a beat. It was something I could count on.”

  Staring up at the stars, I breathe deeply. “You do get it.”

  “It’s the reason we lugged that clock all the way to Prairie Creek when we moved. Mom wanted to get rid of it, but I begged her to keep it with us.”

  “I’m sure you didn’t have to beg that hard. Olivia hates to get rid of stuff.”

  “True.” He chuckles.

  “But I’m glad you still have it.” I stretch out my legs. “And now that I know how much it means to you, I’ll try to not get so irritated with it.”

  “Deal,” Christian says. “So, you never answered my question. How many stars have you counted tonight?”

  “There aren’t many out tonight, actually, but I can see twelve.”

  “Emmy, I want you to think of me like I’m one of those stars.”

  “Bright and twinkling?”

  “Yeah, well, I am that,” Christian teases, and I giggle. “But no, I mean, someone you can count on.”

  CHRISTIAN

  Our home phone rarely rings. Mom and I both have cell phones, so no one calls our land line. I’ve often asked Mom why she insists on keeping it. She never has a good answer, yet she never disconnects it either. I think it’s more of a sentimental thing at this point. Our phone number is the same one her parents had. Maybe subconsciously this is Mom’s way of holding on to them.

  Therefore, when a piercing ring fills our house late Monday night while I’m doing my homework, alarm bells sound off in my head. I sit still, listening, while Mom answers. Monday is the one day the shop is closed, so she’s home tonight.

  “This is Olivia,” Mom says to the phantom caller, and I set down my pencil. “What?” A pause. “Oh, my god.”

  I stand, knocking over my English book with the abrupt motion. It lands in the carpet with a loud thud.

  “Ok. Thank you,” she says to the caller as I walk down the hallway.

  After hanging up, she turns around. I cross my arms over my chest. “What happened?”

  She hesitates.

  Worry strangles me. “Mom?”

  “That was the police. The shop was vandalized.”

  “Not again,” I mumble. The floor flies out from beneath me, and I feel like I’m being catapulted back to my childhood. Back to the last time.

  Crude words painted in red decorated the front of the shop. Hurtful words. Words meant to inflict pain. Words I didn’t fully understand at my young age. But I knew Mom did by the way her eyes widened as she took them in. The front window was shattered, jagged pieces of glass littering the sidewalk.

  I tugged on my mom’s sleeve, wanting to know why. Wanting to know who would do this. When she turned to me her eyes shone, her lips trembling. Emotion welled up inside me, bursting out like a dam that had broken apart. I’d never felt hate before that day. Watching Mom cry filled me with a rage I had never felt before.

  And it was that day that I learned the truth about why Mom left Prairie Creek in the first place. I learned th
e truth about my dad; the truth about my existence, and the destruction it caused in my mom’s life.

  It was Maise who told me. Mom gave her permission though. Maybe because she’s the storyteller. But more than likely it was because it was too painful for Mom to relive.

  “Do we need to go down to the shop?” I ask Mom now, shaking away the memories of last time. I don’t have time to take the stroll down memory lane right now. I have to be strong for Mom. It’s what I’ve always done.

  Sometimes it makes me angry. It shouldn’t be me. It never should’ve been. My dad should be the one looking out for my mom. On nights like this the old feelings of anger and abandonment creep on me. He should be the one to help her, to defend her.

  But he’s not here.

  I am.

  It’s true that I do sometimes forget my role when it comes to her. Not because I don’t know she’s the parent, but because she leans on me a lot. I’ve carried her burdens since before I was old enough to even understand them. I’ve cleaned up her messes. I’ve held her when she cried.

  And I’ve had to be strong for her even when I don’t feel like it.

  But no matter what, I’ll never let her down. She’s been hurt by too many people. There’s no way I’m adding myself to that list.

  So I puff out my chest, ready to be the man once again.

  But she surprises me by saying, “No, it’s fine. I know you have a test tomorrow, so why don’t you go back to studying? I just need to make a few phone calls.”

  “Are you sure?” My brows furrow.

  “Yeah. I’m not going to the shop right now. I’ll let you know if we need to.”

  “Okay.” I’m skeptical, but I nod obediently and head back to my room. After sitting down at my desk, I pick up my pencil and stare at my notebook. However, it’s a losing battle. I can’t focus. Mom is on the phone again, but she’s speaking so softly I can’t pick up what she’s saying.

  As I listen to her desperate tone, I wonder how many times Mom can deal with this shit. And why now? Why would this happen again after all this time?

  As I ponder this, it hits me. Josh. This has nothing to do with Mom and her past indiscretions. This has everything to do with Emmy and me. This is my fault. When I chose to go for it with Emmy I didn’t think about anyone else. I didn’t bother to weigh the consequences. I was being selfish, and it was wrong.