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I crack an uncharacteristic smile. “What?”
“You know what.”
I continue to chalk the end of the pool cue. “Do you want me to break?”
“I want you to explain yourself.”
“Explain what?” I move to the end of the table and line up the cue ball.
Carlee backs up to avoid accidentally brushing against me. “Explain what you’re doing here talking to me when you’ve spent the last decade avoiding me.”
My smile grows, but I tilt my head down to hide it. Carlee’s never been one to tip-toe around a problem. She faces conflict head-on, but never in an antagonistic way. Not like me. Or Carter for that matter.
“Is this your way of saying you missed me?” I pull back my arm and hit the cue ball. The billiard balls scatter, and the seven goes into the top corner pocket. “I’m solids. You’re stripes.”
“Corey.” Carlee stomps her foot. “Stop it. I’m not playing pool with you.”
I straighten and rest the end of the stick on the floor. “Fine. What do you want me to say, Carlee? I’m back in Dallas, but we both know I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t have to be.”
She rears back like I hit her.
My chest tightens with instant regret. “I didn’t mean it like that.”
“No, I know.” She clears her throat and averts her gaze—another one of her mannerisms that’s made it into adulthood.
Whenever Carlee felt overwhelmed as a kid, she’d avoid eye contact with everyone around her while she focused on getting her head on straight. Even after all this time apart, it feels like Istill know her like the back of my hand—like the close friend she once was.
She looks back at me with a carefully blank expression. “I’m just wondering why you’re pretending to be interested in meeting your future teammates when we both know you’d rather do almost anything else.”
“Ouch.”
A flash of remorse crosses her features, but she doesn’t walk back her comment. “You know what I mean, Corey. You played for the Loons. You went to the World Series. No way are you happy to be traded to the Lonestars.”
I consider denying it. I can say I wanted the trade—that I agreed with the Loons’ press release which stated we decided to go our separate ways amicably when the truth is I only learned about the trade one day before it was reported by the press.
But this is Carlee.
As much as I boast about knowing her, she knows me just as well, if not better.
So while I want to avoid anyone in the world learning the truth about the disgraceful way I was traded by the team I’d spent my career playing for, I say, “You’re right. I didn’t have a say in coming here, but what’s being said about my behavior in the locker room is a lie. I never did the things they accused me of.”
“You mean you didn’t get up in your closing pitcher’s face and tell him he sucks?”
“Well… that one, I did. But Hugh deserved it.” I’d pitched a perfect game before Coach pulled me off the mound in the first playoff game. Hugh took my place, then proceeded to let our opponent get five hits in the final inning to almost tie the score. Needless to say, I gave him an earful when we got back in the locker room.
Carlee shakes her head. “You’re a team player, Corey. You don’t shy away from doing what’s best for the team, but your personality is rough around the edges. Always has been.”
“Not around you.” I regret the words the minute they leave my lips.
She stiffens and glances around to confirm no one heard my pathetic comment.
Because that’s what it was…pathetic.
I have no right to say that sort of thing to Carlee. I have no right to act like we’re as close as we once were or allude to the fact that while we were growing up, she was the only girl who saw past my hardened exterior that was erected due to my shitty life circumstances.
“Look, Corey. I don’t mind that you’re back. I’m actually glad. Carter could use a good friend while he deals with his custody issues with Laura.”
Custody issues?
