Page 19 of Only for Love

CHAPTER SEVEN

Grayson

Only a few lights shine down, and sweat beads down my back. I couldn’t stay home but had nowhere to go except here, the batting cages where the owner lets me have access anytime day or night. The lights are always on and the gate is always open. It’s just me, the ball, and the bat pushing toward midnight.

It’s been hours since Emma left my place and I grabbed the keys to Pops’s truck. If I stop pushing myself, I’ll have to deal with the fallout from tonight. Pops is gonna kill me. He would even if I hadn’t borrowed his truck while he was sawing Zs on the floor. Emma’s never going to see me the same way. And me. If I look in a damn mirror, I’ll be sick. I wanted to leave the second school’s over. Running away from my past is an alright way to go once everyone else heads to college. But now I need a plan.

Clicks pop from down range, and the mechanical arm launches another baseball toward me. I’m past even a decent form. I’m exhausted. My muscles scream. One ball after the next, I can’t stop swinging, sick over the future, knowing that I had the world fooled until tonight.

Finally nailing that tart.Pops’s words reverberate in my head. Another ball flies. Swinging, I embrace the burn in my back, the ache in my arms. A satisfying crack echoes as it flies, another home run that doesn’t go anywhere.

The clicks and pops signal another one inbound.

I need to talk to Ryan. He always trusted me with Emma, would never have a problem with me being with her. There’s no way he’d think I could hurt her. Because I couldn’t.I can’t.But I did. Fuck me, I did.

The Kingsleys are the only family I’ve had, even if they aren’t really mine. I shake my head, grinding my hands on the grip. A ball flies. Crack. Another one heading for the fence. I should text Ryan. If Emma showed up at home in tears with my car, he’s gonna have a problem with me. Their parents will too. My stomach drops. None of that matters, though, not when she’s been the only thing that’s allowed me to survive, and now she’s gone.

All because of Pops. And Mom. Shit, what would my mom do? What would she think? Why couldn’t this have been better for her? For us? My mind churns.

I can picture my mom’s face, her voice. Vividly.Just another one.Even when I was a kid, her perfect make-up and slurred words confused me. She was so pretty. So lost. I want to throw up. God, I can’t shake her eyes on me in my memories. I’m going fuckin’ nuts. Everyone’s in my head: Pops, Ryan, and now Mom.Just another pill, Gray-baby. It’ll be okay. It’ll always be okay with just one more.

Fuck! It’s not okay. It was never okay. Why did she burden me with this? Rage blinds me, and I throw the bat, screaming into the night. The clink and clash of it hitting the fence does nothing to reduce the pounding in my head. I tear my hands into my hair, and it’s too short, too tight to grab. I’m seconds away from collapsing, from a complete nervous breakdown.

“Take a breath, son.”

Whirling around, I’m sweat-drenched and face-to-face with our ROTC adviser, Marcus Waylon. “What’re you doing here?”

“Chaperoning that dance, saw the shit with Snyder. Then I drive by, and you’re out here, alone?” He clucks his tongue. “Had to pull in.”

Waylon isn’t much older than me. He maybe graduated a few years ago. He didn’t do college. Did do the military. He’s here not because he wants to be anywhere near this side of the United States, but because he’s on Uncle Sam’s payroll, and they put him here in Virginia as an Army recruiter.

He walks closer. I blink, searching for words, gasping for breaths. Shit knows what he must think about me right now. I flex my aching fingers. “What’d you want, sir?”

He takes another step closer and glares. “Better question, Ford, is what’re you doing?”

Trying to outrun my nightmares, hide from my pain.I take a deep breath. My pulse is thumping in my temples, my neck. Trying to slow my heart rate, I make him wait a minute. “Working out. Hitting the cages.”

“Baseball season’s over.” Waylon’s arms cross. “Try again.”

Avoiding the two people I can’t control, Pops and Emma. “Blowing off steam.”

He nods. “I talked to Coach. He said—”

C’mon on already. What is it with tonight?“That prick? Seriously. That goddamn prick thinks—”

“You don’t know what he thinks.” Waylon grabs and tosses my ignored bottle of water.

I catch it and guzzle half, thinking of how both Snyder and Waylon must think of me. I know what the world sees. I let them see it: good looks, good grades, good at sports. Package trifecta. I get it. But, man, they’re wrong. Everyone’s wrong. “Coach thinks Emma isn’t—”

“I know what’s going on with you at home.”

Well, fuck me. My hand crushes the plastic bottle. “Yeah. Right.” I scuff my shoe into the dirt. “Of course, you do.”

Waylon ignores my attitude. “It’s easy enough to figure out once you get past all your cocky bravado.”

“Easy. Right.” First Snyder, now Waylon, both guys I would’ve thought would be on my side. I’m just as smart as Pops thinks I am. All the voices, doubts, memories, they start to choke me again. Everyone’s in my head. Pops. Emma. Ryan. Mom. Snyder. Waylon. It’s too much. My sore fingers knead my neck, locking in my hair. I can’t catch my breath. The pressure’s too much on my lungs. In my head. My throat’s closing up.

“Take a breath.” Waylon steps closer. “Calm down.”

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