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At the sound of my name, I blinked at her, my brain clouding once again. What had we been saying?
She frowned again, concern swimming in her irises. “Ian?”
Right, I was talking about my best friend from high school. I almost shook my head to clear the cobwebs but stopped myself when I remembered that it hurt like hell to do it. I pulled out my phone and opened the most recent picture of my best friend. It was from last Christmas. He and his wife stood behind their three kids, both wearing big smiles.
When I turned the screen toward her, she studied the photo, but there wasn’t a hint of recognition in her gaze.
“Ian Tilton?”
“Oh.” She focused on me again, pressing her teeth into her bottom lip. “You played baseball together, right? He played second base?”
“Yeah,” I said. “My best friend.”
She pursed her lips and regarded me for another moment. “I vaguely remember him, I guess…”
Maybe she did, but the puzzle pieces still weren’t clicking for her.
“He ODed that night. Remember that?”
“I, umm.” She shook her head. “When people started yelling about the cops coming and taking off, I left too. Didn’t everyone leave?”
“I didn’t. I stayed. With the police and the paramedics.” I was more concerned about Ian than I was about the consequences that could have come from being caught there. “Ian passed out in one of the bedrooms upstairs, so his girlfriend Kristy came to the backyard looking for me. She couldn’t get him to wake up. I’m the one who called 911. And that’s when everyone ran.”
Her eyes widened, and she put a hand to her mouth. “All I heard after that night was that the cops broke up the party and a couple of people got in trouble.”
I huffed. “Ian was the mayor’s kid, so the details got buried. His dad made sure of it.” I pinned her with my stare, because after eleven years, I had questions too. “But I texted you, so many times, and you never responded.”
“I panicked. I was terrified. My parents would have killed me if they knew I was there. When that girl came out and whispered in your ear, you followed her without a glance back at me. So I followed you. And I saw you go into the bedroom with her.” She blinked rapidly, as if fighting off tears. As if the memory still upset her.
Shit. Knowing she was hurt made my chest ache. But why the fuck would she think I would leave her for some other girl?
She cleared her throat. “I was devastated. So I blocked you before I even got home that night.”
“You never got any of my texts?” I shook my head and immediately regretted it. Another pricking pain raced through my skull. This one was sharp enough to have me dropping onto her couch and putting my head down in my hands.
“Mason, we don’t have to talk about this.”
“No, I want to.” Those first few weeks of June had sucked. My best friend had almost died. Then he’d been moved to rehab, and I couldn’t contact him. And at the same time, the girl I was obsessed with wouldn’t talk to me.
“Don’t stress yourself.” She placed her hand on my good shoulder and gave it a light squeeze.
The warmth of her palm bled through my thin T-shirt. I swallowed hard, fighting the rush that worked through my body at her touch. I wanted more of it. I craved it.
Before I could get my fill, she pulled back and frowned down at me. “We don’t have to talk about this. Not right now. Let’s go back to your apartment and talk over lunch. We have days, remember?”
I watched her, calling up an image of her as a sixteen-year-old. The girl with dark hair and glasses that I was obsessed with for well over a year. It’s insane that I didn’t recognize her right away or even that I hadn’t seen her in the few weeks she’d been working with the team.
Did I really pay that little attention to the staff around the stadium? Maybe I did. My head throbbed, and my thoughts drifted back to years ago. What really happened after that night? It was all a blur. I wished, more than anything, that I could focus on it, understand how the events had played out. But she was right. We had plenty of time to hash out the details.
Though I shouldn’t have been surprised by the sight in front of me, my breath caught and my eyes went wide. It made sense that Mason would live in a fancy high-rise apartment, but the extravagance of the full glass building, the waterfall feature out front, and garden circle with valet was intimidating. I almost wished I’d insisted on staying at my rinky-dink place.
Before I’d even come to a stop in the circle in front of the entrance, Mason was pushing open the door and hopping out. I rolled the window down and sucked in a breath, ready to call his name, because I had no idea what to do from here, and he’d just left me without instructions.
But he just strutted away like he wasn’t suffering from a concussion. “Hey, man.” Mason spun his sling away from the man standing by the front doors like he was trying to hide the injury and slapped palms with him.
“Dude, that catch was some shit.”
Mason chuckled and, in his sling and everything, tucked his arm into his chest and bounced his shoulders, doing the dance that fans loved. “Gotta make the big plays. Can’t say I remember it, though.”
