Rounding Third (20 page)

“You said you weren’t mad.”

“You fell for that?” She shakes her head. “Why would I be mad, Ella? Maybe because you brought home the guy who you know your father and I don’t approve of? He’s under enough stress with the farm.”

She grabs my arm and begins to drag me into the house. I stick my heels into the dirt, and she swivels back around with a look of death across her face. My only saving grace is that there’s no yelling coming from the barn.

“I’m not deserting him,” I tell her.

She sighs. “God forbid we do anything to upset Crosby Lynch.”

She tries to grab my elbow again, and I shrug out of it. Many times I’m amazed, to the strong-willed side of me that emerges when I’m protecting Crosby.

“No. I’m not deserting him…again.”

Her stare grows more intense, and quickly, I’m back to being twelve when I purposely put gum in Ariel’s hair, resulting in shortening five inches off her “gorgeous princess locks”—her words, not mine.

“Save the drama. I don’t need to hear it.”

She raises her hand, but at the same moment, my dad starts hollering in the barn. The next thing Crosby and my dad exit the barn. My dad fires a finger at me and points to the house.

“Get in the house,” he demands

Crosby’s tentative eyes meet mine, and I fear that this is going to be it. I’ll have to make a decision.

My dad waits, his arms crossed, ready for a fight from either of us. My mom enters first, and then Crosby and I follow.

The aroma of cinnamon and sugar fills my nostrils. My mom’s freshly baked apple pie is sitting on a wire rack in the kitchen. She busies herself with the task of preparing dinner, diverting her attention away from the trains about to collide in her kitchen. I’m surprised she’s not ready to fight Crosby and I, like my dad.

He grabs a beer, cracks it open, and sits at the table. With his leg bouncing a mile a minute, his eyes shoot to Crosby, me, and then my mom. “Remind me never to make a deal with you again.” His eyes are pointed at me now.

“I’m sorry. I thought—”

His hand flattens in the air, telling me to shut it.

“I don’t want to hear it. Then, no warning, you bring him here.” He looks at Crosby. “You have nerve, boy. I’m not sure I’d have had the balls to do what you did.” He downs another large gulp.

The thing is, Crosby was the boy my dad never had. Before the accident, Crosby would usually be found in our barn, milking the cows or baling hay, and during breaks in the harvest season, he’d be hitting balls into the pile of hay bales at the edge of our property—a place my dad specifically set up for him to practice.

“Sir, please.” Crosby sits up straighter, ready to plea our case, and my heart leaps for him more.

My dad silences him with his hand in the air. “Do the two of you have any idea what you’re in for?”

“The town has to understand—”

“Quiet, Ella.” He stands and walks around the table before grabbing my mom’s apple pie.

I’d almost laugh at my father’s need for sweets when he’s angry, but this is definitely not the time for that joke.

My mom takes it from his hands and carries it over to the table. Then, she pulls four plates from our cupboard and digs four forks out of the drawer. She slices the pie and dishes up a hefty one for my dad, handing it over to him. Their relationship is flawless and perfect. Everything I’ve always wanted. The very thing Crosby and I had until that night.

“Only for me,” he tells my mom.

She rolls her eyes, plating two more, handing one to me and then Crosby. Crosby and my eyes meet with a sliver of hope.

We’re being served pie. That has to be a good sign.

“Jesus, Katie, do you ever listen to me?” Dad asks. “Did you tell them to come here?”

I look over at my mom, and her eyes are softer now.

“Are you kidding me? Never.” She shakes her head, but there’s a warning in her eyes toward my father in the way he’s talking to her.

“Do you think I hate you, Crosby?” My dad’s question throws us.

“You have every reason to,” Crosby murmurs over a mouthful of pie.

The boy always has a stomach for food, whereas I’m pushing my apples around in the sugary sauce.

“That is exactly why the two of you can’t be together.” My dad stands up, fisting Crosby’s hair in his palm, and he pushes his head over to have Crosby look me in the eyes.

“Dad,” I sigh.

“Mark,” my mom chimes in with her own disapproval.

He tosses Crosby’s head back down, and Crosby’s eyes search for his whereabouts in the room.

“You both harbor tremendous amounts of guilt, and there are people in this town who continue to blame you, Crosby, but that’s their issue. The problem your mother and I have…well, actually”—he looks at my mom, who sheepishly cowers into her shoulders—“maybe it’s just me now, but we worry about the two of you. Love isn’t always enough.”

He grabs his fork, taking a heaping forkful of apple pie, and he piles it into his mouth. Leaning back, he continues to chew.

“We’re better now. Crosby and I talked.” I say, desperate for him to see we can get through this even though I myself had doubts only an hour ago.

“For how long, Ella? You two only remind each other of that night. Neither one of you will ever get the most out of life if you stay together.”

This is why my parent’s were happy to chase Crosby out of town. They believe my happiness and well-being was in jeopardy?

“Don’t you see, I love him,” I beg, but tears trickle down my mom’s face.

“What happens when love isn’t enough. Every time tragedy strikes, you two will be reminded of what happened that night. I don’t want that life for you.” My dad takes a swig of his beer, his fingers tapping against the bottle.

“So, you’d rather me live a life with someone I don’t truly love?”

“Yes.” He deadpans.

“We tried to stay away from one another,” I say.

“And you were successful for two years. You had a boyfriend and a future.” He stares at me, and then his eyes shoot to Crosby.

“You’ve picked yourself up and gotten to Division One again. I wouldn’t be surprised if you made it to the draft. In the pros. Separately, you guys were living life again, but I’m not sure, if you were together, you’d be able to accomplish what you’ve done independent of one another.”

Another forkful goes into his mouth, and he leans back again.

“I called your father, Crosby, but I got no answer. Where are your parents?”

“Haiti, sir. With Spencer graduated and at college, they decided to do missionary work.”

My dad extends a long breath of air. “They were always good people.” He nods. “I don’t dispute that you are too, Crosby.”

I smile from ear to ear with my dad’s compliment to Crosby.

“Thank you, sir.”

“That fact doesn’t change my mind that the two of you shouldn’t be together.” His fork points to each of us, but his anger is diminishing.

“You should be thanking your mother because she hasn’t let this topic go since you girl’s left the other day.”

I spare a look at my mom, who bears a soft smile in the direction of my dad.

“If I put my foot down and told you both to stay away from one another, what would happen?”

“With all due respect—” Crosby starts.

“There’s no respect if you finish that sentence and say that you’d continue to date my daughter.” He eyes Crosby and places his fork down.

“I love her. I’ve lived the last two years wishing I could go back in time to have fought harder to stay with Ella.”

My smile emerges wide. Who couldn’t love a guy who vocalizes his love?

“It took me a long time to realize that I need to move forward and stop living in the past. A day will never go by when Noah and Kedsey won’t cross my mind. I struggle with the guilt every day, and I feared that I’d never escape that pain if I saw Ella again, but just the opposite happened. The more I’m with her, the more I’m me and the more I’m thankful for her and happy that I am in her life.”

An annoyed long sigh escapes my dad’s throat, but sniffles come from my mother on the opposite side of the table.

My dad shoots her a roll of his eyes and pushes the napkin dispenser her way. “Always the romantic, Katie.”

She wipes her eyes and reaches over to squeeze my hand.

“Okay, you don’t need to be asking for her hand in marriage.” He gives a stern gaze to Crosby.

“No, sir. Not yet.” Crosby looks at me and winks.

My stomach flips as I think about making those notebooks from junior high ring true.
Mrs. Crosby Lynch
.

He stands, tucking his chair into the table. “I have more chores, and you need to get your butt back up to school to practice.” He eyes Crosby.

I take a deep breath.

There’s nothing we can’t get through together.

I stand and rush over to my father, wrapping my arms around his neck. “Thank you, Dad. I love you,” I whisper.

He lightly pats my back in more of a motion to stop showing affection. “Love you, too, Sweet Ella. I’m not happy that you went against what we agreed on, but no matter what, I don’t have it in me to keep you from something you want.”

I look over at Crosby, and instead of seeing a happy guy who got the approval from my dad, he’s looking at his phone with a scowl on his face.

What now?

“
W
hat
?” Ella asks.

I’ve piqued the interests of Mr. and Mrs. Keaton as to what I’m staring at on my phone.

Fucking bullshit, that’s what.

“Nothing. Ollie is asking me to grab his bag. He’s hung up at the library,” I lie. I tuck my phone into my pocket and stand to thank Mr. Keaton for the blessing to date his daughter. “Thank you for giving me another chance.”

I hold out my shaky hand, and he clasps it with his.

“It wasn’t about you. It was the two of you together. You both have a hard road ahead of you.” He doesn’t smile. Then, he kisses Ella on the cheek. Right before he fully exits the house, he screams back, “Get your ass up to practice, Crosby! You don’t need to ruin that opportunity!”

I glance at Ella, who rushes in saying good-bye to her mother with a quick hug and kiss on the cheek. Ella bypasses me toward the front door, and I follow her but not before Mrs. Keaton stops me with her hand on my forearm. I turn, and she only bears the softest of smiles.

“Welcome home, Crosby.” She hugs me tight, as though she’s missed me as much as I’ve missed all of them.

I swallow the lump occupying my throat.

Mr. and Mrs. Keaton are like a second set of parents to me.

My own are far too busy with helping others. I never felt neglected, but many times, Spencer and I would be left to find our own dinner. My dad would have dinner meetings and counseling sessions at night, and my mom would have bible study and women’s groups, so my brother and I would fend for ourselves. I don’t fault them—they are selfless people—but a little more attention to Spencer and I wouldn’t have been bad either. After the accident, their need to help others only heightened.

“Thank you, Mrs. Keaton.”

She smoothes her hand down the center of my back. “Please…take care of her. She holds scars, too.”

Ella walks back, stopping in the doorway. “Oh, Ma,” she sighs. “Two days ago, you weren’t even happy about Crosby’s return.”

Her mom backs up, wiping a few tears. “I was scared, but I had a hand in breaking your heart once. I won’t do it again.” She rushes into the kitchen, exiting with another apple pie wrapped in foil. “Here, take this up with you.” She hands the pie to Ella, and her hand gently brushes a strand of Ella’s chestnut hair, tucking it behind her ear. “Go now.”

As fast as Mrs. Keaton’s emotions were hung out on a laundry line for all of us to witness, she takes them down, like a storm has darkened the clouds above.

“Thanks, Ma,” Ella says, kissing her on the cheek and waiting for me to say my good-bye.

“Bye, Mrs. Keaton.”

She waves us out, airing her hand toward the door. I let Ella in the truck, noticing her dad has disappeared into the barn. Mrs. Keaton stands and watches us the entire time from the screen door.

We drive down Route 12.

“Man…” Ella fidgets, bringing her leg up and under her body, looking over at me.

Relief floods both of our faces.

“I never would have guessed that it would go down like that with my parents.”

“Me neither.” My hands tighten and then loosen on the steering wheel. “I’m in utter shock. In the barn, when your dad saw me, he was pissed. His face was beet red with anger in a second. I thought he was going to use a pickaxe on me.”

She laughs. “What changed his mind?”

“You think he’d really hurt me?”

“Yeah. The way his face looked, coming out of the barn, I had visions of me running away from my family in a white dress and veil. We’d be telling our grandchildren some great love story.”

My heart has no room for more happiness in this moment. She would have risked losing her family for me.

“What?” Her voice calms, and she places her hand on my bicep. “You look serene.”

I glance to her and then back to the road. “You’re a self-esteem booster, that’s all,” I say.

She smiles bright.

“All those girls who fawn over you and post pictures of you on Instagram should boost that ego a little more,” she says whimsically.

I have no reason to sense that she’d ever be jealous of other girls. Since we were fifteen, she’s known that there’s absolutely no one else I’d ever be interested in.

We’ve never talked about our two years apart. There have been girls—I can’t lie—but none of them panned out, and from the start, I knew they wouldn’t. My heart belonged to Ella Keaton well before I ever had control over it.

I pull the truck into a parking lot at an abandoned fast-food restaurant.

“What are you doing?” She glances at the clock on the dash. “You’re going to be late already.”

I say nothing as I turn off the ignition and face her. I stare long and hard into her vibrant blue eyes, the same eyes that give me encouragement, love, and support. I grab both of her hands, bringing them up to my lips.

“You are the only one. You know that, right? The girls who come up to me and take pictures, I’m not interested in any of them.”

She glances down, releasing one hand and nibbling on her fingertips.

“You’re hiding something,” I say.

Her eyes fly up to me.

“I know that nervous habit, Ella.”

“I know.” She releases her other hand from my grasp and swivels in her seat. “I do know, deep down, but sometimes, it’s hard.”

“Never doubt me.”

“I try not to, and I know the pictures are bullshit, but earlier today, in the Student Center, I saw the two girls walking in with you.”

I rack my brain. If Ella observed me all day, she’d see that I turn down every girl that approaches me

“The ones who wanted to buy my lunch?” I ask.

She scoffs. “Seriously? What is wrong with these whores?” Her voice is angry.

The jealousy is nice to see; however, I never want Ella to be unhappy, but the girls are something I have no control over.

I chuckle, and she shoots me the evil eye.

“I accepted and told them my girlfriend would appreciate me saving money, so I could buy her a nice dinner.”

Her slow smile spurs my own smile.

“You didn’t.”

“I’ll always tell someone who I belong to, and that’s you, Ella Keaton. I belong to you. My heart isn’t mine. It’s yours. Always has been and always will be.”

She unclicks her seat belt and crawls over to my side. My hand falls to my seat controls, and I slide it back, giving us room.

“Tell me,” she says.

My hands fall to her ass, pushing her into me more.

“I like you,” I answer.

She shakes her head. She’s replaying the way I told her I loved her the first time. I let it slip out and took it back immediately so as not to seem like a douche who confessed his love too quickly. Ella though pushed until I confessed again.

“Tell me,” she continues.

Instead of the terrifying feeling that took over me the first time around, I’m enjoying this one.

“I like you a lot.”

“Crosby.”

“Ella.”

“Tell me.” Her voice is growing more demanding, which only results in hardening my dick.

“Do you want me to tell you that I love you?”

Her shoulders fall, and a dreamy, lovesick look flashes in her eyes. Without a word spoken, she nods, those teeth nibbling on that bottom lip.

“Ella Keaton”—I move my hands up to her cheeks, and I watch her chest rise and fall with a deep breath—“I not only love you, but I have also fallen in love with you.”

Her blue eyes hide behind her eyelids for the briefest of seconds, and when they slide open, they bear contentment and happiness.

“Crosby Lynch.”

My palms press firmer on her cheeks. As I wait to hear these words again, my heart pounds like I’m on top of the first hill of the tallest roller coaster, ready to plunge down.

“Yeah?”

“You are my prince. Just when I’d accepted I’d lost you, you found me and saved me. I love you more than my Skittles.”

I bust out laughing, and Ella’s head falls to my shoulder as she is in her own fit of laughter.

Ella would never share her Skittles at the movies—or any other time. It was a running joke that she might have loved me but never more than her Skittles.

She pulls back, resting her forehead on mine. Her hands graze along my cheeks. “I love you.” Her voice is tender, laced with the love she’s proclaiming. “I never want to be apart from you again.”

She smashes her lips to mine, and my hands entwine in her long dark hair as I deepen the kiss.

“Never. I’ll never leave,” I murmur through the rush of kisses to her mouth.

“We should go,” she says, her hands inching up my stomach.

“We should.” My own fingers explore up her T-shirt, cupping her breasts through her lacy bra.

She arches her back. They are still the most sensitive part of her body.

She breaks the kiss, and her lips move down my jaw, sprinkling the shortest kisses to my skin.

“Crosby,” she purrs.

I really wish we could continue this, but there’s a little Coach Lipton screaming on my shoulder.

Her hand travels down my abs before cupping my balls and then rubbing down the length of me.

Shit, Coach Lipton needs to bother someone else.

My eyes close, and my head falls back to the headrest as I relish having her hand on me.

I cover her hand with mine, only resulting in a groan from me as the pressure is already building. “I need to make it to practice.”

Her whole body collapses on top of me. “I know.”

“I’d rather stay in this truck with you, but if I’m late, he won’t let me start the scrimmage game this week.”

“Always a ballplayer,” she teases before sucking my earlobe into her mouth. She lets it out with a pop. “I’ll be waiting for you afterward.”

“No, no. You’re coming to practice with me. Remember how hot you used to get from watching me play?”

“Used to?” She climbs off my lap, situating her shirt and bra into position. “Still,” she confirms.

Now, there’s no choice.

“It’s settled then. You’re coming.”

I move the seat back up and turn the key in the ignition. “After practice, I’ll be carrying you up to my room.”

Her whole body shivers. “You won’t have to carry, I’ll beat you up those stairs.”

* * *

B
y the time
I pull into the field, I grab my bag, kiss Ella, and run off to the locker room.

“Ten minutes.” Coach Deacon, our third base coach, taps his watch. “If you’re late, you’re benched.”

Brax eyes me and then Ella, raising his eyebrows in question. “Aw, Coach, give him a break. He finally got some,” Brax says.

I pick up a ball that must have gotten away from one of them and throw it directly at him. He catches it right before it breaks his nose, and he laughs at my attempt.

I run into the locker room, stripping on the way down the hallway. Changing my clothes in record time, I pull out my bat bag and head back to the field, meeting Coach Lipton in the hallway as he’s on his way out the doors.

“Lynch,” he says, “cutting it close.”

I nod, lowering my hat. “Sorry, sir.”

“As long as you beat me to that field, you have nothing to be sorry for. But I’m glad I ran into you because I received a call today.”

“Yeah, I got the reminder about the newspaper article.”

He places his hands on his hips and shakes his head. “This is something else.”

“What?”

“From the coach at Bradley. They want to do a charity game.”

“Sounds good. Bradley’s pretty good, and it will give us more practice.”

Why he wanted to talk to me about this, I’m clueless.

He leans against the wall, propping one foot up. “There’s more. The reason I wanted to talk to you about it was, it’s for the baseball team in your hometown, Beltline.”

My heart drops to my stomach. If I went back there and played, the town would crucify me for sure.

“Why?”

“I guess a few of their players came from Beltline, and he figured you and Braxton would like to be a part of it. He’s trying to get money for medical expenses. He’s related to your old coach, Dean Weathers.”

“Oh.”

“Now, Lynch, if you don’t want to play, you don’t have to. I talked to Brax about it earlier, and he’s game, for obvious reasons, but I’ll give you a pass.”

A pass to look like a selfish pussy? No, thanks.

“I’ll do it.” I barely swallow the baseball-sized lump in my throat, envisioning standing on third with piles of nacho containers, popcorn buckets, and plastic cups sprinkled at my feet, courtesy of my hometown.

A smile emerges on his face, and he claps me on the shoulder. “I’m glad to hear it. The coach from Bradley had his doubts, but I knew I pegged you right. A stand-up man.”

Stand-up man, my ass. I ran from that town last time, and I’d be lying if I said my toes weren’t itching now.

“Now, go out there, so I don’t lose face. I’ll wait a minute.”

I rush to the doors and am about to push them open when he calls out, “It’s in a month, Crosby. Don’t forget the newspaper article, too.”

“I won’t.”

Shit, shit, shit.

I jog out to the field, my bag swinging back and forth. Brax is throwing with Derek King. The two of them side-glance me as I pass them to get to Coach Deacon.