Page 17 of A Better Place

He laughs at my lame joke. “Okay. I’ll amend that. Can I ask you another question?”

I nod my head.

“Can I…” He shifts nervously, clearing his throat. “…can I walk you to your car?”

I may be wrong, only knowing him for a day I can’t say as though I’m totally in tune with him, but I don’t think that’s what he intended to ask me. Especially considering that it’s a question worthy of a fourteen-year-old.

The fact that he is possibly as nervous around me as I am around him oddly makes me feel enormously better.

“Umm… What?”

“I chickened out. I’m sorry.”

A laugh bubbles up out of me. This entire day has been weird from start to finish. I don’t even acknowledge what he said about chickening out.

“Yeah, you can walk me to my car,” I answer, giving him an out.

“Alright then,” he says cheerfully.

As we’re walking down the bleachers, he ushers me slightly in front of him by putting his hand on my lower back. I clutch the blanket in my arms tighter as my heart feels like it could do a frog jump right out of my chest. I turn my head, and our eyes connect before I quickly turn away and focus on my feet walking down the bleacher stairs. No need for yet another stumble in front of James.

We get closer to the parking lot, and my nerves pick up. Three years ago, I made a promise to myself that I wouldn’t let a man take over my heart ever again. And this man, in the few hours that I’ve known him, has managed to make my heart race and stomach dip more times than in my entire life combined. It’s completely unsettling.

I stop walking in the middle of the parking lot and turn to him. “I just remembered I have to talk to Jack after the game.” Which is only partly a lie. I always talk to him after the game. Jack will wait for me, or I can easily just text or call him, but I need to escape.

He furrows his eyebrows just slightly. “Oh,” he says, obviously confused. “I can wait until you’re done.”

“No, it’s fine. I’ll just catch up with you later,” I start to walk away.

“Carly?” Christine calls out for me, but my feet are moving quickly toward Jack’s pickup.

“I’ll call you later,” I yell back to her, waving but not turning.

I don’t hear her response and don’t have the courage to look behind me in the direction of my friend, or James.

As soon as I see Jack’s pickup, I use the extra key I have in my purse and let myself in. Before long, I see him come out of the locker room. He’s laughing with his teammates, but the second he notices I’m sitting in his truck, he turns to them and nods then quickly heads my way.

“You alright?” he asks before he’s even fully settled in the cab.

“Yeah,” I lie.

“What happened?”

“Nothing,” I lie again.

“Mom. What happened? Did he…” He looks around the parking lot nervously.

“No. Nothing like that. I promise.”

“What was it, then?” My teenage son. Much too perceptive for his age.

“Just old skeletons, I suppose,” I say, hoping that will be enough. But of course, it isn’t.

“Did someone hurt you?” he asks, his voice dangerously low.

“NO! Oh kiddo. No. You don’t need to worry about me. Okay? Just go celebrate your amazing win, alright?”

His eyes assess me, looking me over. His voice softens, and he reaches over to me, grabbing my hand in his. “Mom.”

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