Igniting the Wild Sparks (41 page)

“Yeah. Just that one fix.” I chuckle again
, thinking about what she had on there. Her blue eyes sparkle from a combination of the overhead lighting and the sunlight coming in from the plate glass window next to us. Before I look away, she unexpectedly leans in and kisses me. At first, my mind goes blank like it does when I dive, but then the one thing I can’t stop thinking about floods my mind and the pain rages through me.

Do I kiss her back?

What if the pain doesn’t go away?

What if it does?

CHAPTER 19

Saturday afternoon, I pull into the spare parking spot in front of Finn’s apartment, or my spot as it soon will be…sometime…maybe.

Only an hour before, I returned home from North Carolina. My apartment was devoid of Finn’s things, leaving me to feel empty and abandoned. Figures he’d come back here after our last time on the phone. He’s pouting, which he has every right to since I botched his surprise trip for me. I still feel so guilty about that.

Yet, on the other hand, because he lied to me and publicly gave me the metaphorical middle finger, he can shove it up his moping ass.

Since his car is here, I mentally prepare for an argument, and I’m so ready to give him one. I don’t want to have one right before our game, but it can’t be avoided and will be better for us to get it over with before we appear together in front of the team. He has to hear me out and understand that I’m in love with
him,
not Rod, and that I won’t put up with his jealousy anymore.

On his end, if he doesn’t take reverse his plan to suicide jump from that thing, then he’d better be ready for me to tear his balls off on live TV.

I bound up the steps, smoothing my red
Legal Eagles
shirt when I reach the porch. Although I’m mad at Sparks, I smile at my number 11—
his
number 11—and fine-tune my ponytail before I turn the door handle. Locked. I use my key to open the door and step into the quiet apartment, taking a careful look around. Dirty dishes and a couple cereal boxes litter the counters. In the living room, I notice the two glasses on the coffee table, and the empty bottle of Jack Daniels on the floor. Why in the hell is a bottle on the floor? He can’t even clean up after himself?

Sighing, I walk to the bathroom to check there, since I had missed it last time. The door is open. No Finn. I then go to his bedroom and push open the door. His bed is unmade, clothes are all over the floor, and an empty bottle of Jim Beam adorns his nightstand. He’s been drinking way more than I originally thought he was. I now have my reason why he didn’t call me back.
Oh, Sparks
.

“Finn?” I don’t even know why I call out for him when I just checked almost every room. I poke my head into the spare bedroom, which is his office, but nothing stands out.

Returning to the kitchen, I look around for a missed note he might have left me amid the clutter. Nope. I didn’t bring my phone since I inadvertently let the battery die. I plugged it in and left it at home, so if he called within the past 20 minutes, I wouldn’t know it.

I check his patio, but he’s not outside, either. Where could he be? Maybe Ricky picked him up and they went to the field early. That’s a possibility. Or, maybe he drove to West Virginia to give his fucking bridge the good news in person. That’s an even greater possibility.

I clean up some of the mess before I leave, so there’s not that to contend with if I come back here after the game. God. I don’t even know where I’ll be staying tonight. If I had to pick right now, it wouldn’t be here for a while.

After locking up, I drive to Byrd Park, where we’ll be playing our games. It’s also the park where Rod cried for Eden. As I pull in, I notice Rod’s gray truck right away. I then see him talking on the phone, while hanging over the side of the truck bed with his bright red cap on backwards. Only Rod.

Walking up to his truck, I hear him say, “You wish. Whatever. Don’t try your damn voodoo shit on me.” He randomly glances my way, and seeing me, he straightens and says, “I gotta go. Later, bitch.” Rod hangs up and smiles at me. “What up? Long time, no see, slut puppy!”

“I know. I remember you being so much better looking the last time I saw you. What the hell happened?”

“I knew you’re hot for me.” He histrionically licks his lips, prevailing in not laughing this time, unlike me still.

Grinning from my laughing fit, I tease, “I used to be. I’m over it now.” I giggle more, and Rod teasingly frowns at me.

As I catch my breath, he holds up his phone. “That was Mortgage. She’s not comin’.”

My laughter drops with my voice. “Why?”

He shrugs and stuffs his phone into his pocket. “She said she’s sick. I imagine she got a bad batch of blood or fell from her perch.”

“Shut up!” I abruptly laugh again, punching his arm. Now completely seeing what he’s wearing, I check out his uniform. “Why are you wearing those blue jeans?”

Rod raises an eyebrow and wickedly smirks. “Would you rather I wear nothing?”

I roll my eyes. “Can’t you wear sweats to play in?”

He instantly grimaces. “The only time I wear those fucking things is if I’m jogging in cold weather.”

“So sorry they’re beneath you, your majesty.” He rolls his eyes at me now, and I make another point about his choice in clothes. “Aren’t those an expensive pair, though?”

Stepping back from the truck, he looks down at his jeans and then up at me again. Shrugging, he ambivalently says, “So?”

My examination continues to the black and white sneakers on his feet. “And your shoes are definitely not cheap.” He owns more shoes than I do.

Appearing to be amused, he leans against his truck and asks, “Why do you care if I wear nice clothes to play in,
Mom
?”

My lips pull to the side from that remark. “You’re screwy.”

He cheekily grins. “Aw, yeah. My favorite pastime.”

“
Screwy.
Not
screwing.
”

Shrugging before reaching into the bed, he grabs his glove and loudly whispers to me, “I’m a master at both.” We both laugh and he says, “Shit, Hadders. At least I’m not boring.”

I snort. “That you aren’t.”

He swivels his head, searching for something around us. “Where’s your boyfriend? Is he ready to bash my face in?”

I look around, as well, but I don’t see him or Ricky. “I haven’t seen him. I went to his apartment, but he wasn’t there. I don’t know where he is.”

“Didn’t you call him?”

“No. My phone died.”

“It’s about fucking time. I’ll send you a sympathy card.”

“I thought he’d be at his apartment, so I didn’t bother to bring it.”

“Babe! Oh, no! You’re
here!
Didn’t you get my messages?” I look over my shoulder to see Val hurriedly coming up behind me. I turn and give her a regretful smile.

“No, I didn’t get them.”

Rod smacks the back of my shoulder. “There you go, Hadders, another reason to ditch that damn phone. It really hates you.”

She sadly says, “I thought… Oh, no. What did Finn say about you being gone?”

“He’s not happy with me.” Understatement of the decade.

Her face falls. “I’m so sorry. When I saw your note on my desk, I called you and left you a message, trying to tell you not to go or to at least not be down there long, but…” Val sighs and hesitantly says, “I’m sure Finn is disappointed.”

“A little.” A fit of rage falls into that category, doesn’t it?

She looks up at Rod. “How’s Eden?”

“She’s better. She might get to go home Monday. She’s happy about that and so is the entire hospital staff.” I elbow him and he shoves me back. I also note his twang has lessened considerably since being in Richmond, which would be strange for anyone else, but this is Rod and thus, the norm.

Some of our opponents trickle past us wearing green shirts with
Surf and Turf
on them. I point with my chin and ask, “What company is that?”

Val glances at them and smiling, she says, “Hewitt Plumbing and Danover Electrical. Adorable, huh?”

Rod shakes his head. “Effin’ fabulous, Val. Don’t be cutesy about them. They’re the enemy.”

I grouse, “We’re not at war, General LaFayette.”

Val laughs. “Gregory, you are something else!”

Rod walks around me and turns to bow at us. “That I am! I’m one in a billion!”

“Thank goodness,” Val replies, patting his cheek. He proudly grins and she adds, “I can only deal with
one
Greg Rodwell in my lifetime.” His smile plummets into a dejected pout and I snort.

Val starts walking to the rest of our gathering team, meeting up with Brandon along the way. Rod and I follow, and he whispers, “Your boss hates me.”

“She
loves
you, Gregory.”

He pompously sighs. “Yeah, you’re right. She does make me cookies for my birthday every September 19
th
.”

I giggle and whisper, “Too bad your birthday is February 11
th
.”

His snotty act disappears and worry takes over. “I can’t correct her
now.
It’s been almost three years!”

“I told you I can go into her calendar and change it.”

“But then she’ll figure out she was wrong. Then I’d feel bad for making her feel bad. It’s an awkward position all around, Hadders. At least I can look forward to no-bakes and peanut butter blossoms on September 19
th
every year.”

“It’s official.”

“What?”

“You’re the weirdest guy I know.”

“I’d better be.” Laughing, he swats me with his glove. I try to retaliate with mine, but he easily hops out of the way before I can make contact.

Returning to my side, Rod asks, “How’s your stomach?”

“It’s okay,” I fib a little. I don’t want him to feel bad about
me
now.

“Liar.”

I narrow my eyes in both doubt and from the sun. “Why do you say that?”

“Because you have a horrible poker face.”

“Thanks for calling me ugly.” I jut my bottom lip out in an attempt at a pout, but reel it back in, seeing his unimpressed expression.

“Hadley, I would never call you ugly.”

Reaching the field, I smile and say, “The pain is only in one spot now. It’s getting better.”

Betsy comes up to us with a somewhat panicked expression. “Where’s Ricky? Isn’t he supposed to be here?”

Perplexed by her reaction, I say, “Yeah. I don’t know where he is, but I’m sure he will be soon.”

“Cara isn’t here, either.” As soon as she says that, she looks away from me, and amends, “Oh, never mind. There she is.”

I follow her gaze and see Cara approaching us. She’s wearing our team shirt, hat, and her own bored scowl. I’m actually astonished by the team effort she has put forth; though, her tight, nylon, yoga pants are expected. She surreptitiously glances over at us, but doesn’t seem to want to engage herself, as usual.

When she gives us a lame shout for our attention, we all gather before her and she futilely looks around for her backup, but Finn or Ricky don’t come to her aid. Disappointed, she sighs and says, “Okay. According to the schedule, we’re the home team, so we get the field first. Each team will take the field and warm up for 10 minutes. I just talked to their coach, who said they’re just about done, so I guess we’re up soon.” She sounds so enthused.

When the other team vacates, I take my lovely spot in left field. Before pitching, Rod glances back at me, mischievously smiling. I know he’ll never take his turn at bat again with me in the outfield, which makes me feel ashamed for not paying attention that day.

Sylvie starts us off, sharply swinging to the side of the plate, before nearly hopping into a serious ass-kicking stance. I punch at my glove, waiting for her to pick me as her target. I’m ready.

Rod’s face turns serious as he takes a cursory look at his teammates and then focusing on Sylvie. He throws the ball, a near-perfect underhanded pitch, and she swings, propelling the ball into centerfield, sending Gloria stumbling after it as it flies over her head. Shit.

Sylvie takes the leap onto second base and Gloria frowns, throwing the ball back to Rod. Brandon steps up to the plate and after a swing and a miss, he hits a fly in my direction. I run backwards, keeping my eye on the ball, and easily catch it. My team cheers and I shyly grin, again glancing to the sidelines to see if our coach is here, but he isn’t.

Being some kind of magnet, Shasta next hits one to me, which is an advantage for her this time since I’m further out and not at shortstop. I jump up to try and catch it even though I probably don’t have a prayer of doing so, but a sharp pain stabs me and I instinctively curl inward, grabbing my stomach.

“Hadders, you okay?” Rod asks, stepping off the pitcher’s mound.

Unfurling as everyone waits for my answer, I contritely nod and say, “Yeah. Just surprised me.”

“Hadley!” I look up and Ricky motions for me to come off the field. Fuck. When did
he
get here? I’m torn between being embarrassed and not wanting to leave. Having a feeling that I can’t beat a cop’s order, I reluctantly walk from the field, passing Rhonda who is sent out to take my spot. Great. I guess this will take a few minutes.  She quickly smiles at me, but makes googly eyes at Greg Rodwell.

Ricky fixedly watches me as I walk over to him and crossing my arms. I’m so pissed at him for aiding and abetting my boyfriend. Stopping in front of him, I moodily ask, “What?”