Cinderella Steals Home (8 page)

As the night progresses, I realize one thing: Natalie'd definitely been right when she said that hardly anyone would be here to see me play. I'm pretty sure there are never more than five or six people in the cafe at the same time at all tonight, and most of them have only come to see a specific group play, and then left with them when their set ended. Not much of an open mic night, really, but that's okay with me.

It might actually be the perfect place for me to start, you know, playing for real.
 

I've got my head underneath the counter, scrubbing hard at some unidentifiable stain that's probably been here since before I was born, trying to keep my mind off what's about to happen, when the music stops and the last band before me finishes for the night. I'd told Natalie last week that I wanted to perform at the end -- I'd been hoping that the cafe would totally empty out by then.
 

"And now," Natalie says into the microphone so it echoes throughout the cafe, "I'd like to introduce Gemma's own Holly Shaw as she makes her musical debut!"
 

I stick my head out from under the counter and glance around; there are maybe three people in the entire place, plus Natalie and me. I can do this. I toss the rag aside and run into the back to grab my guitar and notebook.
 

And without really thinking about what's happening, I realize I'm suddenly sitting on the stool in the middle of the stage, my notebook open on the music stand in front of me. I strum a few chords on my guitar and even though my heart is beating wildly in my chest, I'm ready to begin singing when the bells jingle and the door to the cafe opens.
 

I squint past the bright lights to see who's walking in.

And when I do, I freeze, mouth open, hand hovering above the strings, eyes wide, breath caught in my throat.
 

Doan Riley and Justin have just come into Gemma's, and I feel a coldness sweep over me unlike anything I remember experiencing before.
 

It's over.
 

It never even began.

I can't play now.
 

Not with them here.
 

Why
are they here?
 

I rest my guitar on the stage and hop off. Justin and Doan have slid onto stools at a high-top table in the corner and I stomp over to them in a huff of anger and disappointment.
 

"What are you doing here?" I demand, looking only at Doan.
 

"Hey, Holls, nice to see you, too," he says with an aggravating, cocky grin. I've seen it on him before, and I like it even less now. He doesn't look rattled at all. "Justin invited me."
 

I glare at him for a few seconds longer before swinging my attention over to my brother. "And who told you?"
 

"Uh, sorry, Holly. This is my fault."
 

I didn't hear Natalie creep up behind me, but she's standing there now, smiling apologetically at me, a sheepish half-smile on her face.
 

And suddenly I'm more confused than I am angry.
 

"You know my brother?" I ask.
 

Natalie nods. "Sure. We went to high school together."
 

"And you knew he was my brother?"
 

"We didn't figure it out until last weekend," Justin cuts in. "We kind of realized it by accident."
 

"Justin," I say through clenched teeth. "A word."
 

"Um," Natalie says. "Does this mean you're not going to play?"
 

I swing around to look at her. "Not tonight. Sorry. I'm sure the crowd is going to be disappointed." The last customer in the place -- a middle-aged man working on a laptop in the corner -- actually has earbuds in as he taps his converse sneakers to the beat of the music he's listening to.
 

Natalie nods once. "Okay. Don't worry about closing up. I was going to do it myself anyway."
 

"Great," I say, too flustered to realize that I don't want to leave her hanging. "Justin."
 

I stomp outside without looking at him and wait a few feet away from the entrance. A few seconds later, the bells above the door jingle as it's opened once more.

I have my back to him, but even though he doesn't say anything, I know he's there.
 

"You know I hate him," I snarl. "I can't believe you'd bring him with you to something like that."
 

There are a few beats of silence.
 

"Maybe he was interested in seeing more of what you're all about."
 

For the second time in as many minutes, I freeze. I may not have been back in Arizona all that long, but I still know the sound of my brother's voice, and that isn't it.
 

Slowly, I spin around.

Doan Riley is standing there, staring at me, no cockiness, no arrogance, no amusement etched anywhere on his face. Even his eyes aren't twinkling that annoying sparkle I'm so used to seeing in them.
 

"I said I wanted to talk to Justin."
 

"He was busy trying to tell Natalie that she didn't do a terrible thing by letting him know about you coming here tonight to sing," Doan says, lifting an eyebrow. "She feels really bad about that."

I shake my head, already feeling some of the tension seep out of my body. It isn't Natalie's fault that Doan is here right now. She didn't know I wouldn't want anyone to show up to see me for the first time, and you know what? I don't even think I'd have been all that mad if only Justin came. Maybe just -- I don't know -- surprised or something. But for him to bring Doan? Doan Riley? After everything? After we
talked
about this?
 

Yeah, I'm definitely not okay with it.
 

And Doan just so happens to be right in my line of fire.
 

"What are you
doing
here?" I demand.
 

"Justin invited me," he says again.
 

"That's great," I shoot back. "Maybe tomorrow he'll invite me to jump out of an airplane over Mount Everest without a parachute. Doesn't mean I'm going to say yes, you know."
 

Doan just shrugs. "But I wanted to."
 

"Yeah, clearly. Why?"
 

"I didn't have anything else going on tonight."
 

"You know I don't want you around me."
 

"You know you're not in charge of everything, right? I can show up wherever I want to."
 

I roll my eyes. "I didn't think you were the clingy type."
 

He flinches ever so slightly and I try to hold back my smile. Round One to Holly.
 

"Just the type with nothing better to do is all," he says. "Better than sitting around alone at home."
 

I'm not sure I believe him, but I don't tell him that. "Whatever, Doan. Why not just go race through the streets of Scottsdale some more? I bet there are lots of people out there who can't wait to run into you."
 

"Dammit, Holly! Will you let that go already?"
 

This explosion is more than I'm expecting and I take an involuntary step away.

"I already told you I won't do that."
 

Doan runs his hand over his mouth and sighs. "You really don't want me around?" There's no anger in his voice and his eyes only look tired.
 

"Everyone keeps saying you have all these reasons for why you act the way you do, but no one will tell me what they are. If I don't understand it, I can't get over it. It was just so stupid."
 

He drops down into one of the chairs at a table in front of the cafe and rests his elbows on his knees.
 

"They're right," he says, looking me straight in the eyes. I fold my arms across my chest. "I have reasons, and I have stories. Everybody has a story. But, Holly, what you have to understand is that not all of our stories are meant to be told. Mine are like that."
 

I stare down at the sidewalk. "No, I don't buy it," I say. "Because sometimes even if we don't want to share a story, it doesn't mean that we shouldn't. Sometimes, that's the best thing for us."
 

Doan looks up at me, nothing but sadness on his face, and I'm surprised. "Not this time," he says, his voice quiet. "You're just gonna have to trust me on that one."
 

Just a couple of minutes ago, I would have laughed in his face at this, but now all I do is drop down into the seat next to his and say nothing.
 

"I know that's a crazy thing for me to say to you," he goes on. "And there's no reason why you should. I get why you think I'm an asshole and you're not wrong because I think I'm an asshole, too. But I'm not all bad. I wasn't always all bad, anyway. I probably don't have any right to say this to you but I want to get to know you, Holly. You're not exactly making that easy for me, but I understand why. Just kind of hope maybe now you can give me a shot."
 

I raise my eyebrows. "A shot? At what?"
 

"Being your friend?" he says with a shrug of his shoulders. "I don't know. Not even that. Just maybe you don't have to hate seeing me all the time. We could start with that."
 

My eyes haven't left his face as he speaks, and I think back to what Justin told me, about how Doan wasn't always a bad guy and that the guy he once was is still somewhere inside him.
 

I think maybe I can sort of see that now.

I don't know, really. But it's not so crazy anymore.
 

Part of me -- more than the part that can't stand him -- wants to find out.
 

"I guess we'll see," I say at last.
 

He cracks a smile -- a real smile, not the cocky, arrogant grin I'm so used to seeing. "Good choice, Holls," he says. "You won't regret this."
 

He gets to his feet and walks away before I can say anything else.
 

And when I finally snap back to reality, I realize that I haven't even told him not to call me Holls.
 

CHAPTER ELEVEN

The next afternoon brings about my very first practice as a member of the Phoenix Scorpions. Justin had given me a T-shirt last night to wear to practice today, and as I slipped it on over my head and glanced in the mirror while getting dressed an hour earlier, I'd realized that I don't hate the way it looks on me.
 

It may not look right, but it isn't wrong, either.
 

It's clear now that maybe baseball isn't such a bad fit for me anymore.

And that isn't something I expected to find when I moved back here.
 

There's a pit in my stomach when Justin brings his BMW to a stop in the field's parking lot. I don't know if it's because I'm about to play baseball again or because I'm going to see Doan for the first time since open mic night at Gemma's, but I suddenly feel like I'm going to throw up all over the passenger seat of his car.

"You look pale," Justin says as we climb out and I reach into the backseat for the glove he let me borrow.
 

I glance down at myself. "You're just noticing this? You know I can't tan."
 

"No, I mean, you don't look good," he says, and I raise my eyebrows.
 

He sighs and kicks at the dirt. "You know what I mean."
 

I grin. "Yeah, but if this is how you talk to women, no wonder you're single."

"Is that what my problem is?"
 

I grab my gym bag out of the backseat and smile at him. "That's a longer conversation than what we've got time for right now."
 

Justin laughs, and I can't help but feel the uneasiness wash away. It's been so long since I've been able to relax and joke around with my brother; I missed it, a lot more than I thought I had.
 

My eyes scan the parking lot as Justin and I make our way over to the small cluster of guys gathered near the dugout. I don't see Doan's black pick-up truck yet, and part of me is relieved. I still don't know how I'm going to handle that situation.
 

Because I guess now I've agreed to be nice to him, and being nice to Doan Riley isn't going to be easy.
 

"Hey, Holly," Dad says, walking over to me and interrupting the conversation. "I have an idea. I'm sure you're pretty rusty on hitting so I thought I'd send you and one of our pitches out to the batting cages this afternoon so you can spend some time on your swing. Sound good?"
 

I frown. "I can't do that here?"
 

"You could," Dad says. "But I always like the cages, and I always send my guys out there when they're struggling at the plate."
 

"I'm not struggling at the plate."
 

He raises an eyebrow. "No, but you're not new to the game, either. You know what it's like when you don't have a groove."
 

I let out a sigh. "Sure, okay," I say. "I'll go."
 

Dad grins. "Great! Hey, Riley! Can you come over here for a second?"
 

I freeze and suddenly find myself hoping that there's a guy on the team whose first name is Riley.
 

But when Doan trots over to Dad and me with a huge grin on his face, I swallow hard.

I don't like where this is going.
 

I hadn't even realized he was here yet!
 

"You and Holly are going to spend the day at the cages," Dad says. "I want her to get used to swinging the bat again. It's been awhile since she's played. You good with that?"
 

"Whatever you say, Coach." He turns to me and smiles. "I hope you're ready for this, Holls."