Rounding Third (19 page)

* * *

H
aving
two girls living with you sure changes the dynamic of a house. Ella’s the caregiver, and Jen’s the eye candy. Well, to the other guys. I’ll carve their eyes out if they look at Ella, she’s only my eye candy.

They all decide to watch the new Rocky movie, and Ella seems just as happy to go along with that pact. Me, not so much.

She’s standing by the couch, and she’s about to sit down, but I bend down, forcing her over my shoulder.

“I take it
Creed
isn’t your thing!” Jen hollers.

“Not tonight it isn’t,” I say.

Ella smacks my butt. “What are you doing?”

“I’m whisking you away.” I smack her butt back.

“Ouch!” she yells, her two hands feverishly trying to accomplish some sort of return sting to my flesh.

“They’re constantly touching,” Jen says.

Brax laughs. “This is nothing. Just wait,” he says.

I dispose Ella in my room and shut the door, flicking the lock. Whoever the genius was who put opposite locks on the shared bathroom door should win a Nobel Peace Prize because the last thing I want in this moment is for Brax to bust his ass in here, ruining a night I’ve waited two years for.

Once we’re effectively locked in the room, I look over at an uneasy Ella. She’s scooted up to my headboard with her legs bent up into her chest, her arms locking them into place. Her eyes are unreadable, but they definitely aren’t saying,
Come take me however you want me, Crosby
. More like a scared virgin who knows this process will be painful but wants to be rid of it. I saw that look from her once when she was sixteen, and I won’t ever enter her with that deer-in-the-headlights look again.

“El?” I ask, sitting at the edge of the bed. “You want to watch
Creed
?”

“No.” A weight lifts from my shoulders, realizing that I wasn’t that far off the mark by carrying her up here. “But?”

“My parents. I promised them, Cros.”

My heart breaks as I watch the despair in her eyes. I stand and pace the floor. I grab my baseball from my desk, tossing it in my hands.

“Do you regret this afternoon? Have I moved too fast?” I limit my questions to two, holding the others for another time.

“No.”

I stop my feet and stare over at her. Her legs are down, and her arms are at her sides.

“I want to be with you, Crosby. When I made that deal, it was because I wanted Ariel to have a simple life. After the accident, her life changed, too.”

“I know.” My hand threads through my dark hair because that one night impacted more lives than on paper. If only I could reverse time, we’d have left five minutes later and been late for Kedsey’s mom.

“My parents’ faces when they found out you were back…it was like I’d announced I was dropping out of college because I was pregnant. All that guilt from before rose in me, and suddenly, I was making a deal that I knew I had no chance of fulfilling.”

“You want me?” I ask, taking my seat next to her on the bed.

My hand cups her cheek, and she leans into me.

“Since I was fifteen.”

Our eyes lock, and a slow smile creeps up her lips.

“But we met at six.”

She huffs, and I chuckle, my eyes never leaving hers.

This is the point in a movie when the romance music is cued, and we kiss until the screen goes black.

But Ella and I have a story that isn’t easy to wrap up.

I’ll have to talk to her dad, figure out a way for him to accept me in her life. That’s only our first hurdle.

“Answer me one question, El.”

Her blue eyes that bear more honesty than I’ve ever felt deserving of look up at me.

“How far are you willing to take this?”

“Are you asking me if I’d throw away my whole life for you?”

I nod, and her eyes veer away.

Not a good sign.

“If your family doesn’t approve—” I start, but her finger gently touches my lips.

“Yes. If my parents don’t agree and if Beltline can’t accept you, I’ll leave them behind.”

My heart leaps out of my chest. She loves me the same amount as I love her.

“I promise I’ll do everything to make sure that doesn’t happen. I never want you to sacrifice to love me.”

Her hands press on my thighs. “I’m by your side, no matter what.”

“I love you.” I lean forward and kiss her nose.

She inhales a deep breath, releasing it as I pull her into my body.

“You’ll always be safe with me,” I tell her.

She nods.

Damn, why didn’t I fight harder for us years ago?

“
H
e’s going
to talk to Dad?” Ariel asks as we find a table in the Student Center.

I follow Ariel to the table with my coffee and bagel. “Yeah. I’m scared.”

“I don’t know why you ever made that lame deal anyway. I’m a big girl, El.” Ariel sits across from me, instantly adding more sugar to her already sweetened coffee.

“I’m not sure why I did it either. Being back home makes my and Crosby’s hope for a future unattainable. I guess I figured one of us would get what we want. Those small-minded people will stop at nothing until he’s burned at the cross on top of Cherry Blossom Hill.” I sip my coffee and fiddle with my phone, checking all my social media accounts.

“I don’t know if everyone feels that way.”

My eyes whip up to hers, and she shrugs, sinking herself into her shoulders.

“What? They drove his family out of town, Ariel.”

“They got scared. Our town was mourning, but they might be different now.”

“Um, did you not hear me when I said that, at Bishop’s, X said he wanted to talk to Crosby. X’s the one who ratted that Crosby was here.” Aggravation grates on me that my sister doesn’t see what I do.

“X was friends with Crosby.”

“Exactly, and if he was ready to turn his back on Crosby, then what must the others in that town want to do?”

She leans back, bringing her coffee to her lips. “You need to go with him when he talks to Dad.”

“Look at these gorgeous girls.” Spencer approaches the table, a Gatorade in his hand.

“Hey,” I say.

He bends down to give Ariel a kiss and takes the seat next to her. “Don’t be too welcoming there, El,” he says, gulping down a sizable swallow of his orange Gatorade.

“Sorry,” I murmur. I take another sip of my coffee.

“Crosby’s going to talk to Dad this weekend.” Ariel fills him in, and his body transforms from relaxed to tense.

See? This man understands where I’m coming from.

“He’s going back to Beltline?” The uneasiness in his voice isn’t missed.

My eyes reach his, sadness matching in both.

“Yeah,” I mumble.

“Man, I knew he loved you, but to put himself through that again…”

I close my eyes, and my fists clench under the table. I’ve never felt defeated over a future with him. This town, my family—I need all the negativity to be washed away. The weight of that town is like a hammer, and I’m the nail. Every hit inches me a little further into the wood. Pretty soon, I’ll be buried.

“I know.”

Spencer grabs Ariel’s hand over the table at the exact time I receive a text message from a foreign number.

It’s a picture of Crosby, shirtless, showing the scars on his back.

H
aven’t
you caused him enough pain?

“
W
hat is it
, El?” Ariel grabs the phone as it slips from my hands. She gasps. “Oh my God.”

Spencer peers over her shoulder, seeing the text. “Who is that from?” he asks.

“I have no idea.”

“Well, I’m going to find out.” He whips out his own phone, dials it up, and calls. “Hey, who is this?” He listens for a minute. “I’m Spencer Lynch. I’m looking for Crosby,” he lies.

Whoever is on the other line decides to talk to him.

“Why did you send Ella this picture?”

I’m in shock that this person is willing to answer his questions.

Ariel and I lean in closer.

“Uh-huh.” He nods toward the door.

I turn to find Crosby starting to enter with two girls practically at his heels. He smiles, and his politeness only pisses me off.

Disregarding my celebrity boyfriend, I turn my attention to Spencer. “Who was it?” I ask.

He hands me my phone and looks over at Ariel.

“Spencer!” I yell.

“Some girl. She said she’s friends with Crosby. That she got your number from his phone when he was in the shower at her apartment.”

My head whips to Crosby, who is now stopped in front of the coffee place. The girl touches his arm, and he doesn’t pull away. She drops her money, and he goes to pick it up, leaving the girls with a perfect view of his ass. He stands, and they giggle. She presses her tits into him, and again, he doesn’t step away.

“Fuck this. Sometimes, there’s too much stacked against you.”

“El, don’t run.” Spencer holds my hand, but I stand and grab my bag from behind the chair.

“I’m not running.” I eye Ariel. “Haven’t you ever wanted something that hurts you the same amount whether you have it or not?”

Ariel’s eyes tear. She’s the emotional one, but I wish my own vision weren’t blurring.

“You’ll get through this and be happy.” Ariel tries to stand, but I shoo her down.

“Stay. I need to think.”

I walk out of the Student Center and into the sunniest day. It’s seventy degrees, and the flowers are basking in the last rays of sun before winter comes to wither them away. How similar it seems to Crosby and me. We shine bright now, but along with my dad and Beltline, the girl’s here will also stand in the way of our future.

“El?” Liam says, approaching me from the library.

I hold my hand up in the air and continue walking around the Student Center to the open field behind it. College kids are milling around on the hill, talking, laughing.

If it wasn’t the despair from not being with Crosby, it was the sadness from the void in my life Kedsey’s left. One constant was sure. Crosby’s absence overloaded the weight in my heart. But, even with him here, as he held me close to his body last night, there was no peace like I had assumed. Nope, we’re still uneasy about our future because there continues to be people against us.

“Ella.” Liam comes alongside me, obviously not aware of the nonverbal sign I gave him with my hand up in the air, meaning,
I don’t really want to talk to you
.

“Liam,” I say, my voice flat.

“Can we talk for a second?” He signals to the grass.

“What is it?” I ask.

He groans. “We dated for over a year, and you can’t sit down and have a conversation with me? Are you afraid he’ll show up and beat
you
up this time?”

I squint my eyes and cross my arms, not thrilled with his comments.

He gives me an exaggerated eye roll. “Okay, I’m sorry, but you know the swelling in my nose just started going down.”

“We’ve been over this, Liam. What is it?”

He sits.

I don’t.

“I heard. The story is going around, and I wanted to say, if I’d known, I would have understood.”

Panic jolts my veins, and my blood boils. “What did you hear?” My voice is shallow and lost.

My eyes concentrate on a dandelion swaying with the wind. How long will it be able to support itself until it loses its strength and collapses from the fight?

“That Crosby was drunk, and he killed your two best friends. That you were in a coma for a few months, and he left you in the hospital to escape charges.”

The dandelion just broke.

“That’s not true,” I say. My eyes tear up, and all the strength from my body collapses, limb by limb.

“Are you okay? You look pale.” He stands up and wraps his arms around me.

I don’t move, staying in one place as he rocks me back and forth.

But the fact remains. No matter where we go, we’ll never escape the accident. People will constantly twist the truth.

“Let her go.”

Crosby’s backpack hits the grass, and his arm grabs mine, freeing me from Liam’s hold into his.

“Calm down.” Liam holds his hands out, like Crosby’s some T. rex about to rip him to shreds.

“Don’t ever go near her again.” His hands cup my face. “Are you okay?”

“No,” I whisper.

“Spence told me about the text. You know I don’t know that person.”

I nod. The picture was clearly taken at the quarry, but it’s just another person who wants to step in our way.

“Then, what’s wrong?”

Crosby’s head swivels to Liam, who’s already halfway across the lawn. His eyes are full of fear, looking back to make sure Crosby isn’t following him.

“The story has morphed.” I tell him.

His face falls.

“Who cares? All I care about is you.” He pulls me into his chest.

The smell of his cologne embedded in his sweatshirt is enough to make me believe in fairy tales. He is my white knight, and he’s going to whisk me away to a land free of this bullshit.

“Crosby?”

He draws back but keeps his arms firmly around my waist.

“Do you ever think there’s too much against us?”

“I’d risk everything to have you.” His eyes only bear the truth.

“I’m not sure that’s enough.”

He picks up his backpack and swings it over his shoulder, grabbing my hand.

“What are we doing?” I ask.

“We’re going to Beltline.”

“No.” I dig my heels into the grass.

He tugs. “Yes.”

“No.” My voice is filled with fear.

“My dad was wrong. You can’t have your eyes forward if you don’t deal with your past. We’re clearing all this shit up, and we’re going to ride off into that damn sunset.” He lets go of my hand and steps into me, his two hands closing over my cheeks. “Love is enough. Our love is strong, and it can pummel all this crap into Earth’s inner core. Your family is first. Let’s go.” He bends down and softly kisses my lips.

* * *

W
e pass
the sign that shows we’re entering Beltline. I’m not sure what I assumed would happen when Crosby drove over the line. Maybe alarms would set off, alerting the town of his return, or all two of our police cars would be ready to pull him over. But, no, we breeze by the basic
Welcome to Beltline, Population: 845
sign with no problems. Even Crosby doesn’t appear to be bothered by it.

We pass the Fords’ house, which means we’re only minutes from my childhood home. My gut twists, but Crosby seems cool as ice. I’m fairly sure, if I rubbed up against him, I’d melt his demeanor and reveal a scared boy, going to talk to a girl’s father who hates him. But he shows no outward signs.

His hand moves over to mine, entwining our fingers, and he gives it a tight squeeze. I look over, and he smiles.

By the time we pull in the driveway, sweat is beading at my neck and under my arms, and I’m a fidgeting bundle of nerves. My dad’s beat-up red truck sits outside the barn, and my mom’s minivan is parked by the front door.

Great, they’re both home.

“Um…” I say.

Crosby kills the engine.

“Would you rather stay in the car?” he asks.

I nod.

Coward.

“Okay, I’ll be back.” He moves to open the door.

I grab his other hand. “We could run away. Move to California or New York. Heck, Toronto has a great baseball team. We could be Canadians!” I widen my eyes. “Free health care, and they’re overly nice up there. Once, when I was ten, my mom’s friend came down from Niagara Falls, and she was really sweet. They say this adorable term, eh, all the time.”

His hand covers mine, and his other one grabs ahold of my cheek. “Do you really want to be a Canadian?”

I bite my lip and shake my head.

“This isn’t going to be easy, Ella, and I know you hate disappointing people, but if we have a future, it starts here. The same place it ended. We have to offer your parents a chance to see our side.”

I nod, not entirely convinced that this is the best path to forge. Maybe I should start practicing saying,
Eh
, to fit in up there.

“What if they don’t accept it?”

“Then, we’ll try again. I know you, El, and you love your family. I won’t take you away from them.” He throws the keys in my lap. “Now, if your dad is chasing me with an ax or hammer, can you do me a solid and start driving? I’ll dive into the back.”

He dips his head to find my eyes and I smile.

“There’s my girl.”

He places his hands on my head, tipping it down, and he plants his lips to my forehead. So soft, so gentle, so sweet. How did I get lucky enough to claim this guy?

My breath lodges in my throat when he steps out, and I watch his back disappear into the barn. I sit in the truck for what seems like forever until there’s a knock on my window. I jump, and his keys fly to the floorboard. Too busy to see who’s knocking, I search for the keys, believing it’s not too far-fetched that my dad will chase Crosby away with some sort of weapon.

“Ella!” My mom’s voice sounds through the window as her fist bangs on the glass. “What are you doing?”

Her eyes are fuming, and I can’t really blame her. Two days ago, I made a deal that I’d stay away from the guy whose truck I’m currently sitting in.

I wave, my hands clenching the keys in my palm.

“Get out of the truck.” She calms, tilting her head to the side in an almost sweet gesture.

“No.” I’m not a fool to fall for her ploy.

“Ella, get out.” The stern look I’ve been given one too many times during my high school years knifes into me.

“You’re mad.”

“I’m not mad.”

My hand hovers over the door handle, and I close my eyes, clenching my teeth, as I spring the door open.

“How could you bring him here? Do you have any idea what your father is probably doing?” Her hands hold on tight to her hips. Hand imprints from flour are on her apron. Eyes of steel are directed right at me.