“Or maybe he cares too much, and so do you, and I think that scares you. Also it wouldn’t hurt you to assume good intent once in a while.”
“I don’t know how to assume good intent.”
“Yeah, you also never knew how to be part of a family unit, but you and I worked on that, didn’t we?” He held her gaze. “All anyone ever needs is some practice with their problems.”
“And yet,” Mr. Olsen piped up with, “after thirty years of practicing, you still haven’t been able to figure out how to get your damn leaves off my property.”
“Aren’t you rooting for the visiting team?” Dale asked. “Their stand is on the other side of home base.”
“Which was a longer walk from my car. Plus my daughter’s over there, and she’s mad at me.”
“There’s no amount of practice that can make me nice,” Alison said. “You’re either born with it or you’re not.”
“Now there’s a load of bull pucky if I ever heard it,” Dale said. “A girl who looks like you do, with the amount of brains and wit you have, just hasn’t had to be nice.”
“That’s true,” Mr. Olsen said. “Cuz if you were old and ugly like your uncle here, you’d have had to learn the skill.”
Dale snorted. “You’re older than me, old man.”
“By one year. I was the football star. Got all the chicks, including your girlfriend.”
Alison gaped at the two men. “You went to high school together?”
“Yes, but I was more popular,” Mr. Olsen said.
“You were a bag of dicks,” Dale said.
Mr. Olsen smirked. “That might actually be true. We were . . . what do you call it? Frenemies?”
Dale snorted. “Yeah. Sure.”
“Frenemies,” Alison said with a laugh. “Really?”
“You didn’t have one?” Mr. Olsen asked. “I thought everyone had a frenemy in high school.”
Oh, she’d most definitely had one. Emmie Harris. She’d been hugely popular, surrounded by a great family with money, and still had taken the time to steal Alison’s college scholarship out from beneath her—the reason Alison had ended up at city college. And if that hadn’t been enough to hate her, she’d had Alison arrested on false charges in front of the whole school.
Okay, maybe not exactly false charges. Sigh. Gee, such great memories. Luckily, the first pitch of the game was thrown and . . . hit.
Alison quickly scanned the field for Ryan. He was manning second base, concentrating on the fly ball, then catching the fly ball, and looking pretty damn sexy while he was at it. In a fast blur he threw to Simon on first, beating the hitter there.
The game went fast. She and Killer cuddled. Well, unless Ryan was playing, because when he was in the field or at bat, he had her full attention.
It was actually pretty pathetic.
She’d self-detonated their relationship. All he’d wanted was for her to try to fit into his life more, and with the people in it. He cared deeply about his circle. She’d just had no idea how big his circle actually was. But as Alison’s own mom had shown the barest of interest in her daughter’s life, this put her so far out of her league, she couldn’t even see the league. Looking back, it shamed her actually, that she’d not handled Ryan’s family with care, but with suspicion. The truth was that they’d intimidated her, and she’d never known what to do with that.
When the game was victoriously over, Ryan stood just off the field with a group of guys including Simon. “Wait here,” she said to her uncle. “I’ll be right back.”
“Okay.”
“I mean it,” she said. “Don’t move.”
“Okay.”
Alison narrowed her eyes and Dale lifted his hands. Well, his left. His right just sort of twitched. “I swear,” he said.
“Don’t look at me like that. Last time I asked you to stay put, you begged a ride home from a stranger and I thought I’d lost you.”
“I was hungry.”
She pulled out a bag of trail mix from her purse and gave it to him.
“For a burger,” he clarified.
“You and me both.” She patted him on the shoulder. “After this though, I promise.” She walked Killer onto the field for the handover, and her cousin met her halfway.
“Good game,” she said.
“Yeah? Did you like that fly hit I got in the third?”
“Amazing.”
“Uh-huh. I didn’t get a fly hit. I got a home run.”
Shit.
Simon laughed and turned to head to his dad.
“Wait,” she said. “I’m still waiting for the lease of whoever you put in 2A.”
“It’s at the top of my to-do list.”
“Your dad mentioned that he caught a glimpse of her the other day going up the stairs. Said she was pretty and that she held her left arm like he holds his right one. What does that mean? She have a stroke?”
Simon tugged playfully on a strand of her hair. “Good luck, Ali.” And he headed to the bleachers.
“Alison,” she muttered after him. Taking a deep breath, she moved toward Ryan and the other guys. They stopped talking and began to scatter.
Be nice, Dale had suggested. Sure. Sounded easy enough. She nodded to the tall, skinny guy. “Hey, Bill. How’s it going? Did you ever get that boat you were always talking about?”
He blinked. “Actually, I was losing the boat.”
Well, damn.
Bill shook his head. “As always, Alison, great to see you. Gotta go.”
She turned to Ryan and discovered everyone else had left. Ryan was trying unsuccessfully not to laugh. She tossed up her hands. “Well, how was I supposed to know he was losing the boat? He just kept talking about the boat, on and on about the damn boat!”
Ryan’s good humor faded away. “Because it was his dad’s, but with the divorce, he couldn’t afford the storage or dock fees. He had to sell.”
Alison looked into his eyes and saw . . . pain. Pain she’d put there. In the breakup, he’d told her that she’d broken his heart. She’d thought that had just been words, but there was no denying he was hurting.
She’d done that.
Regret was a bitter pill. Not only had she lost him, she’d hurt him, all because she was a coward who hid behind her crappy upbringing, using it to convince herself she wasn’t capable of showing love because she hadn’t been shown it. That was bullshit and she knew it. She was better than her past, dammit. Great, and now she was sweating.
Ryan was watching Alison, his searing blue eyes hidden behind dark lenses.
“Sorry about the Bill thing.” She swiped her brow. “You’re making me nervous.”
“Alison Pratt doesn’t do nervous.”
“You think I don’t get nervous?” she asked in disbelief.
“I think you don’t like to show it.”
“Well, duh.” She drew a deep breath. “And FYI, this is why people like me stick to fur babies.”
He gave her a small smile. “That’d be a shame. I always thought you’d make a great mom if that’s what you wanted.”
Ignoring the lump in her throat and the tightness in her chest, Alison bent over Killer’s soft head and gave her a kiss. “Love you, baby. I’ll see you this weekend. Be good for Daddy.”