Page 96 of Between Love and War
“Why are you smiling?” she asks as she takes a seat beside me.
“Missed your dresses,” I admit.
She rolls her eyes and ignores me, and hands me an envelope. “Here. I gave you a glowing recommendation. You’re welcome. You’re ready to go back to the big leagues, captain!”
I smile. “Not yet, I still have two weeks.” I ignore the pit in my stomach when I realize I only have two weeks left in this small town before I have to return to my life in the city. “We still have that prom.”
She smiles back.
We head to her car like always, and I get into the passenger seat I’ve claimed more times than I can count. It’s absurd how right it feels, like a routine I never meant to build but now don’t want to break.
“So…” I ask as we get in her car to drive back home.
She glances at me. “So?”
“He texted you yet?”
“Huh?” Kate asks, and for some reason, her confusion makes me happy. It means she’s not looking forward to Dan’s message.
“Dan,” I say. “Bea’s father.”
“Ah,” she replies. “Nope. Didn’t really notice, to be honest.” She shrugs. And I smile.
Maybe it’s selfish, but I like how she didn’t notice. How it meant she didn’t care. I glance sideways at her as she hums to old love songs.
I tell myself again—like a chant—that I can’t be the guy for her. Even if I want to. Even when I’m starting to realize that I reallydowant to.
I lean my head against the window, watching houses blur past. She deserves someone stable. Someone emotionally available. She deserves someone who can actually say what he feels. Not someone who can barely admit to himself that maybe he loves her.
I sigh as my phone vibrates with a text from Heather, following up on my decision about the press interview. I stare at the message for too long.
“Everything okay?” Kate asks as we slowly pull over to our houses.
I hesitate. “Yeah. Just…” I let out a slow breath. “Heather’s been asking me to do a press interview. A tell-all, to explain my side of the whole… thing. Clear my name.”
Kate unbuckles her seatbelt, then absently reaches up to tie her hair into a half ponytail, pushing the curly strands from her face. “Isn’t that a good thing?” she says, not unkindly.
“Well, yes. And no.” I tap the phone against my thigh. “You know what happened. The way it looked. Everyone thinks I just snapped and shoved a referee for no reason.” I pause. “And yeah, the guy said something awful, something that hit a nerve. But if I go on record and say the truth, people will just think I’m being overly sensitive. If I brush it off and just apologize, then I’d be lying.”
Kate turns toward me fully now, knees tucked up on the seat. “So don’t lie,” she says simply.
“It’s not that easy,” I say. “People want soundbites. They want to feel like you’re either completely sorry or completely justified. People don’t care about why. They just care about what.”
Kate frowns. “But it does matter why.”
“I don’t know if it does. I mean, what am I supposed to say? That he told me one mistake would end my career, and it messedwith my head? That he said I’d be no one without basketball and I—” My voice catches. “And I believed him?”
I clear my throat and continue, “Basketball is the only thing I’ve ever been good at. It’s the only thing people see when they look at me.”
Kate doesn’t say anything at first, but she shifts closer in her seat. I can feel her looking at me. She reaches out for my hoodie. Just tugs it absentmindedly. And instinctively, I put my hand on her thigh. She flinches, and I instantly regret it. Like that time she kissed me and pulled away. So I immediately take my hand back. But she keeps hers on my arm. Her hands are small, but the warmth they radiate seeps its way into me.
“You’re more than that,” she says suddenly. “You’re kind. You work hard, even when it sucks. You remember people’s names. You’re always the first to help carry equipment, even when your knee’s killing you. Everything I said in that amusement park is true, Michael.”
She looks at me, her chocolate brown eyes warmer because of the sunlight. “If you’re gonna tell the truth, then tell the whole truth. Not just the part that broke you. The part that makes you worth rooting for, too.”
I look at her like I’m seeing her for the first time. Or maybe like I’ve been seeing her this whole time, but only now understand what it means.
She starts to pull her hand away, like the moment’s over. But I reach for it. And now I’m holding her hand.
