“Hey,” I muttered, sort of awkwardly, but if Brady noticed, he didn’t seem to mind.
Kayla wandered away to restock glasses, and I felt the need to wipe something down. It wasn’t even five yet. The bar wouldn’t be busy for another hour.
I wasn’t sure how to do this. Small talk with strangers was like pulling teeth.
Luckily, Brady didn’t need any icebreakers or conversation starters. He took another sip from his glass, then said casually, “I didn’t know you and Bonnie were friends?”
“We’re not,” I said reflexively, the lie sticky on my tongue. So I amended, “Not ... really.”
Bonnie and I weren’t friends, exactly.Friendly, maybe. But I had no other way to classify her. A woman I kept running into. A distraction. The first person I’d taken care of, maybe ever. Someone I liked teasing. Abruptly, my thoughts turned to Jacob, the eight-year-old smart-ass giving Jamie Santiago a hard time because he had a stupid crush. Then I remembered I was a fucking adult, and what was going on with Bonnie was not the same.
Yes, I was attracted to her. She was beautiful and smart and funny. But she was also kind and sincere, real in a way I couldn’t explain. Anyone would think so. It didn’t mean anything.
Brady’s friendly, open expression didn’t change at my weird hesitation. He didn’t call me a liar or give me a disbelieving eyebrow raise. “So how’d she get involved with the team?”
“The girls dragged her into it. She was leaving school during the last practice, and she could tell I had no idea what I was doing. She mentioned you and offered to talk to you about the team. I’m pretty sure she felt sorry for me.” I chuckled, finally giving in to the urge to grab a rag from beneath the counter.
That was all true. But it wasn’t the whole story.
However, telling Brady about Bonnie’s drunken night in my apartment felt like going a step too far. I had a feeling she didn’t want anyone to know about that.
“Nah,” he said with a shake of his head. “I doubt she took pity on you. That’s not really Bonnie’s style. I know how much she hates it when she thinks people feel sorry for her.”
I thought about that, and another little piece of the Bonnie puzzle clicked firmly into place. She hated being an inconvenience, couldn’t stand the idea that she’d been weak in front of me, and felt the need to earn people’s forgiveness with baked goods.
I was suddenly glad Bonnie hadn’t overheard Kayla admit that she and Sasha had overserved her at the bar because they’d felt bad about her divorce.
Bonnie was prideful. I bet she didn’t accept help easily either. Knowing this gossipy small town, she probably hated all the worried stares and heartfelt hugs, the knowing looks, and the soft-spoken “So how are youreallydoing, honey?” comments.
“Bonnie just genuinely likes helping people,” Brady added, drawing me out of my thoughts before I could rearrange any more puzzle pieces.
I believed that too.
But who helped her?
Briefly, I entertained the ridiculous thought that maybe I had a little.
She’d fallen asleep texting me the other night, after she’d admitted she had trouble sleeping sometimes.
I didn’t know why I’d told her about that trick from Lia. It had been something warm and tender from my childhood. Lying on a twin-size bed while my grandmother had asked me my three favorite pizza toppings or video games or baseball players. Things that didn’t hurt to think about for a boy with no mother or father. Who felt separate and disconnected from his peers.
Soft reminders and cloaked comfort.
Maybe I’d had the urge to help Bonnie, a person who could only accept that help in secret, in the middle of the night.
I also didn’t know why I’d texted her a second time on Friday and again on Sunday. Instead of delving too deep into my motivations, it seemed safer to indulge the silliness and wait for answers to innocent questions like her three favorite types of candy (Reese’s Eggs, Reese’s Hearts, and Reese’s Trees, like a complete lunatic) or her three favoriteStar Warsmovies (The Empire Strikes Back, Return of the Jedi, andThe Force Awakens, all acceptable).
We’d continued playing our innocent little game. I’d asked about her favorites instead of why she covered her mouth when she laughed. Or why she’d been drinking alone the day her divorce was final. Anything that pointed to me being too aware or too curious about someone who was so far out of my league that she might as well have been actual royalty in our small town.
I didn’t know what any of that meant.
But I knew I liked talking to her. She was funny when she wasn’t so damn worried about saying the right thing.
I’d looked for Bonnie this afternoon during practice, wondered if she might stop by on her way out again, say hi to the kids. ButI hadn’t caught sight of her. Maybe I’d missed her, or maybe she hadn’t left work until after practice wrapped up.
I wondered if she’d really come to the girls’ game this weekend. Had that been one of those empty promises that adults made to kids sometimes? Ways to smooth over awkwardness or questions you didn’t want to answer. I couldn’t see Bonnie doing that, though. Something told me she lied only about herself and only to keep from hurting other people.
I didn’t know what would happen the next time we saw one another. I wasn’t sure what to expect after texting someone in the middle of the night. Falling asleep with them on the other end of the line.
