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“Yep.”
“Maybe five years ago. I was going for—”
“Five years ago??”
He sighs. “Are you gonna let me tell my story or not?”
I shrug and give him a surrendered nod.
Ryan sighs, leans against the side of the cage, then says, “Long story short, he was … a nice guy. Sweet. Flowers on our first date. Put a coat over my shoulders when it was cold outside. He did all the things a boyfriend should do. We never fought. Ever.”
I frown. “Sounds like a good guy. What broke you two up?”
A look of frustration creases Ryan’s features. He lets himself out of the batting cage, leans against the outside of it, then lets his eyes drift to my chest. “I guess I …”
“Yeah?”
He brings his eyes up to meet mine. “I guess my type isn’t the good guy.”
Our eyes don’t detach. He lets me see into him—the man he’s grown into, the boy he’s abandoned somewhere along the way.
Then he slaps the door to the cage. “Batter up.”
13
STEFAN
Monday fills my lungs with swirls of white dust in my buddy Parker’s bathroom, blinding and suffocating me.
At least the tile’s gonna look pretty as fuck.
“I think we’re done for the day,” calls out Parker from behind his dust mask. “Seriously. Can’t feel my eyeballs.”
“Agreed, man.” I step out onto the plastic sheeting we have running from the master bathroom to the garage to save his other floors from getting dirty.
“Need a break anyway,” Parker complains, sighing out half of the words. “Back is killing me.”
“Wuss,” I tease him.
In a handful of minutes, we’re sitting in his garage. The door’s lifted up to show the sunlight and the street where neighborhood kids are chasing each other with squishy balls and giant foam bats.
“Dude, if this bathroom isn’t perfect as shit,” warns Parker, “I’m going to hear about it from Lindsey every time she goes in there to take a shower. As it is, she’s annoyed she had to use the guest bathroom all last week.”
“It’ll pay off,” I assure him. “Lindsey’s a trooper. And she’s going to have herself a killer shower—with three separate jets—to massage away her long, stressful days at the dance studio.”
“What about my long-ass days at the warehouse?” cries Parker teasingly.
I shift in my chair and stare at him. “Lindsey’s got a couple of buns in the oven. And during these next seven months, she’ll need it twenty times more than you will, you big crybaby.”
Parker chuckles and shakes his head. “Shit. Did you ever see us living these lives? Me with the star from the dance department and expecting twins. You with your …” He eyes me. “Well, doing whatever it is you’re doing now.”
I sigh. “I’m still figuring things out, Parker.”
“Oh, I know. I didn’t mean to imply you’re a lazy fucker who’s just bumming around or anything.” Parker gives me a cheeky grin.
I catch myself smiling, thinking about my recent unexpected life development. “Did I tell you I’m staying at Ryan’s right now?”
A look of confusion clouds his face. “You mean Caulfield?”
“Yep. Just temporarily,” I clarify. “I needed some space from my parents. And frankly, I think they needed some space from me. Ryan had a spare room, so …”
“Oooh, spare room, alright. Got it.” Parker chuckles to himself and kicks his beer back.
I turn to him, my brow furrowing. “The hell do you mean?”
He eyes me quizzically for a moment, the humor gone, then he rests his beer on the arm of his chair. “Nah, nothing.”
“Nothing? Like hell it’s ‘nothing’. What’d you mean by that?”
“Dude, calm down.” He chuckles again, though this time it sounds strained and nervous. “Just … It was necessary to have that clarification. That he’s got a … a spare room. And you’re staying with him … in that capacity. It just clarified a couple things is all.”
My heart is thumping hard. He struck a nerve, and I’m not even sure what it is yet. I’m all reaction, no thought. “Why does that need ‘clarifying’, Parker? The hell are you implying?”
Parker’s eyes flicker with anxiety, like he regrets very much saying a damned thing at all. And he should. I’m ready to beat him down with the rest of the guys who, all through high school, had anything taunting or derogatory or cruel to say about Ryan.
“It’s just …” Parker clears his throat, then finishes his totally unexpected sentence: “It’s just that I thought maybe you and Ryan were a thing.”
Everything inside me turns as hard as the concrete floor I just scraped and sanded in his bathroom all afternoon.
I must be staring at him with murder in my eyes because he starts sputtering out more words at a hundred syllables a second. “I mean, really, I don’t care, Stefan. I never cared. Even back when we were all on the same team. I just minded my own, and I—”
