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I place both hands on her shoulders and bend at the knees to stare directly in her eyes. “Hey, don’t ever apologize for him.” And I mean it. Asshole doesn’t deserve it.
“I know.” She holds the bars out a little and I smile. “What did he do after I left?”
I won’t tell her how he tried to make me feel less than human for even thinking about wanting to spend time with his daughter. Or how after, he had his minion, Mike, sucker punch me in the ribs.
“Nothing. Told me to get dressed and go home.” I give her a little wink to let her know all is well.
She lifts a brow. “Really?”
“Yeah, it’s all good.”
“Dude, you about done?” Dean calls from across the field.
I grab the container of lemon bars and hold them up. “Sorry, more important things.”
Rhiannon laughs, popping open the top.
“Hey, want to stay and watch us practice?” I nod toward her house. “I mean, I know you guys are having some sort of party.”
She beams. “It’s fine.”
“It’s never really fine.” I walk backwards, smiling at Rhiannon as I take a bite of my bar. “And that's what makes it fun.”
She drops down in the grass to watch as Dean and I resume practice until the sun droops in the sky and the wind chills.
“Five more minutes,” I call out to Dean. Two guys, dressed in slacks and button-down shirts, obviously guests from the event happening at her house, wander our way.
“Rhiannon, what are you doing out here?” the lanky, blond kid asks.
“Hey, Ian,” she says, standing. “Just watching my friends play.”
He glances our way, his eyes assessing and judging everything about the situation.
“Throw the ball,” Dean yells.
I put up a hand, wanting to watch to make sure she’s ok.
“Why don’t you come back to the house, instead of hanging out with these guys,” Ian says.
The way he says ‘these guys,’ like we’re toxic waste threatening to contaminate her, pisses me off. I’ve noticed this asshole around her house before. His dad is a Senator or something else equally important. The other tool beside him, with short black hair and squirrely brown eyes, is probably a politician’s kid too.
I drop my glove and walk over.
“Everything ok over here?” I ask her.
She nods.
“Hey, is he the pitcher for the Knights?” Ian asks Rhiannon as if I'm not here.
“I am,” I answer as Dean makes his way across the field to have my back. “And you can ask me.”
Ian holds his hands up, in a mock surrender, and laughs a laugh much too cocky. “I’ve heard about you,” he says. “Too bad you can't afford to go to our school, they could use a good pitcher.”
My fists ball, begging to knock the smirk off his pasty face. His friend stays silent, darting his eyes back and forth between us.
Rhiannon steps beside me. “Ian, get lost.”
I laugh at the look of shock on his face.
