Page 102 of Really Truly Yours

That cheat, pitching into the mix an invitation to the reunion between Donny and his elder son. Not. Fair.

But I’m the scammer here, telling myself all week long I was fat and happy never seeing the inconsiderately handsome baseball player ever again. Every time I close my eyes, all I see are his amber eyes boring into mine. I smell his shampoo.

Him, when he was so close a stiff wind could have blown our lips together.

Jerk. My life was fine until a couple weeks ago.

Is fine.

And that, as they say, is that.

I stare at the flashing cursor on my computer and read its coded message: give up, give up. I’ll never be a writer, and that’s but one dream that will never come true.

It’s all Gray fault. How? He replaced my old dreams with new ones, bigger, grander, and more impossible than the ones I had before.

Perhaps I do want to get out of this town. Miserable Springs has run its course for me. Alone is lonelier than it used to be.

I close my laptop and stare at my phone. Is this a trick? Maybe Gray contrived this little scheme to reel me in.

Shooting pain launches itself across my abdomen. Days without medicine has had an effect. Thankfully, my stomach should be improving soon.

Ten minutes before six, still mildly queasy, I’m parked along the curb of the Walker home. Its sprawl is charming rather than ostentatious. The uplighting is turned on, spotlighting its style.

The front door opens, and Avery, so pretty even approaching full-term, steps onto the mat and waves me inside. She’s wearing dark leggings and a t-shirt representing Gray’s team.

I shuffle my feet on the entry rug in case I picked up mud or gravel in my driveway.

“The guys went to pick Donny up. They should be back any minute.” She leads to the kitchen, where she has an array of game-time food lined up on the island. There’s pasta salad and a variety tray stacked with interesting and unique-looking sandwich halves. Chips, dips, fruit, and two desserts. I wish my appetite were bigger.

She stops next to the food, one hand flattened against her lower back. “So. I’m just going to say it. What do you think of all this? Of Donny coming over. A good move or no?”

I’ve wondered the same. “We texted this morning, and Donny is nothing short of thrilled. As much as it depends on him, I think everything will be great.”

Her eyelashes sweep her browbone.

“I’m sorry. I wasn’t implying anything. Truthfully, Donny can be a bit immature sometimes. He won’t stir anything up intentionally, but I suppose there are no guarantees with him.”

Avery laughs a little and waves me off. “It’s okay. Maybe like father like son.”

“Really?”

“I’m not saying Tripp is immature. Not at all, but he is unpredictable on this matter. This whole thing has thrown him for a loop, so the best I can say is he’s trying. You and I will have to pray that’s enough. I know Gray is.”

That’s nice to know.

She takes a sparkly glass from a cabinet. “Now, I have three kinds of sodas and sweet and unsweet tea?”

“Water?”

“The smart choice.” She smiles and removes a filtered pitcher from the refrigerator. “We’re all glad you’re here, Sydnee. Believe it or not, it’s calming our nerves. Gray’s especially, I think.” She grins over her shoulder. “He’s a good guy, you know?”

I search out a smile. “I’m sure he is.”

∞∞∞

By the fifth inning, I’m done. I’m hardly a ginormous sports fan.

Now, if Gray were on the mound, it might be a different story.

---