Page 76 of Silver Player

The Harrington home is large, but the second floor is tight. The hallway is more a square with a plethora of doors, and I curve around the bannister as Elaina mentioned. The room I face is the only one with a door that’s closed. I knock but don’t wait for a response. Turning the knob, I find a large, older male on his back across a twin bed, clearly too small for him. His feet rest on the floor, and he tosses a baseball into the air, catching it as it falls back to him. A desk lamp dimly illuminates the room.

“Billy.” He catches the ball with two hands, holds it over his chest and takes a deep breath as he closes his eyes. Then returns to tossing it in the air like a moody child.

“I can’t deal with you right now, Roxanne.” He doesn’t look at me but continues to toss and catch, toss and catch.

“I’m sorry they weren’t immediately receptive,” I begin, ignoring his statement as I close the door behind me. “Think about when you learned the truth. Weren’t you in shock? They just need time to process.”

He pauses, holding the ball in one hand when I finish.

“Don’t defend them, Roxie.” Surprisingly, I feel better that he’s returned to the abbreviation of my name. If I can rouse him, poke him enough, he might open up to me. Then again, my heart aches at the sadness on his face and the dull, lacking expression in those eyes of his. His eyes. Sadie’s eyes. I hadn’t seen it until Elaina pointed it out. They match perfectly in color, and there’s no denying she’s his.

“I’m not defending them.” I exhale, hands coming to my hips. “I’m on your side here. But I also need to think of Sadie. It will crush her if they reject her.”

Billy sits up, catching the ball as it plummets back to him, before it knocks him in the head.

“I’m only thinking of Sadie as well. Did you see my dad’s reaction? He couldn’t even look at her. And then, my mother’s comment. She has my eyes. I mean, what the fuck?”

“Well, she does,” I admit. He stares at me a minute, the brown tone near walnut versus rich bark in color. He falls back on the bed and resumes his mindless tossing.

“Roxanne, go home.”

“Well, that’d be difficult as you drove us here.” Irritation is evident in my voice. He halts pitching again and covers his arm over his eyes. I step up to him, slipping my feet between his which rest apart as his legs are spread while he lays on his back.

“Billy…I…I’m sorry for what I said the other morning. I didn’t mean to imply—”

He sits up so fast, I stop. His face could collide with my breasts if he wasn’t looking up at me, his face earnest. “You’re so…mean sometimes.”

“I’m sorry. You bring it out of me,” I tease as I reach for his cheeks, the feel of that stubble under my palms is like a live wire direct to a body part pulsing and wet when it shouldn’t be. I want to comfort him. I want to tell him this will all work out. His family will accept Sadie, and maybe it will help his relationship with them, but I don’t say anything. I just hold his face, stroking my thumbs over his jaw and staring at those soulful eyes. His hands cup the back of my thighs, pressing upward just under my backside, and I lower to kiss him.

The intention was to be soft, tender, and sympathizing, but Billy crushes my lips. With anger and frustration written on them, he instantly takes control. His fingers dig into the back of my thighs as his mouth opens, his tongue rushing forward to tangle with mine. Not a drop of delicacy is in this kiss, and I easily fall into it, loving it. His knees come between mine, and the next thing I know, I’m straddling his thighs. Then he falls back, keeping our mouths attached as he draws me over him. His hands come to my hips, positioning my lower half to rest over the length growing harder underneath me. Fistfuls of my skirt get readjusted until it’s only my underwear against his denim. I’m wet and worried I’ll leave a mark, but I moan into his aggressive lips, enjoying the mouth-spar.

“Billy,” I mutter against his mouth after he moves me, and I drag over his thickness. “Billy, this isn’t a good idea. Not here.”

“No one misses me,” he mutters. “With this full skirt, I could unzip and slip into you. No one would know the difference.” It’s crass but a little thrilling to consider. Then it hits me. He’s hurting. He’s hurting, and this is what he does. He seeks a distraction through physical connection.

“Billy,” I groan, pressing at his shoulders and removing my mouth from his, pushing myself upward as best as I can, but still distracted by the thick presence of him wedged against the heat of me.

“Fuck,” he moans, closing his eyes and pushing his fingertips into my hip bone, forcing me to rock over him.

“Not here,” I whisper. “Not like this.”

His eyes open, and the color shimmers, dancing gold and brown and a hint of green. “But you want me, right? You can feel me, feel how much I want you?” The question is desperation, not passion, and I sympathize, but I’m not giving in. Not like this, I said, and I mean it.

“Billy. Stop.” He stills, his hands releasing my hips and falling disinterested to the outside of my knees. He rolls his head to the side, gazing off at something on his teenage walls. I lower, boxing him in with my arms on either side of his shoulders. My hair falls forward. “Tell me about Rachel.”

His eyes blink shut. “I’m not doing this with you, Roxanne.” My full name is the lash of a whip, but I take the sting.

“I want to understand what happened between you two. It’s not my business, but I want to know all the same. I want to understand you better.” Because like it or not, he is Sadie’s father, and I should know him. Because like it or not, my feelings for him are strong.

“My mother said something, didn’t she?” He still doesn’t look at me.

“She might have suggested her disappointment and something about the disloyalty of sacred vows.”

He shakes his head. “And you believe her. Everyone knows it’s my fault.” He looks up at me, defiantly. The one who covers his feelings with a playful mask. I stare down at him a moment, us seated in this precarious position.

“I don’t believe you. I don’t believe it’s your fault.”

His eyes widen only a touch and then narrow, assessing me. “I’m not telling you anything.”