She grins at me as she gets into her car.
“I’ll pick you up at twelve-thirty!” I call. She throws up a hand in acknowledgement. She waves at Shy, who waves back. Then as she backs out of her spot, I see him motion me toward the door. I walk back in.
He throws a bag in my direction, and I catch it in the air. “You’re welcome,” he says with a wink.
When I get to the truck, I open the bag and find a box of condoms. I lay my head back and laugh, and I look back through the window to find him giving me another thumbs-up. I flip him the bird, but secretly I’m grateful. It’s kind of nice having people who care about me.
It has been a long time since I’ve felt worthy of kindness, and I kind of like it.
17
Abigail
Ethan is nearly vibrating when he picks me up at the cabin to go to the ballgame. His knee jumps as I get into the truck. “Do you think this truck is okay for him to ride in?” he asks. His thumb beats a rhythm on the dashboard.
I look around. “I think it’s fine. Why?” I reach back and grab my seatbelt, pulling it on.
“It’s kind of old,” he says.
“But it’s safe, right? It doesn’t need brakes or new tires or anything that could cause an accident?”
He shakes his head. “No, it’s in good shape for what it is.”
I lay my hand on his upper arm, and I see him visibly try to force himself to relax. “It will be fine.” Then I remember. “Wait… Does it have three seatbelts?” I point to the middle seat. “There’s one for the middle?”
His brow furrows. “Yes, it has one in the middle.”
“Oh, good,” I say. “I’ll sit there on the way back.”
He finally grins. “You’re itching to sit next to me, aren’t you?” He bats his lashes at me playfully. “You’ve been trying to figure out how to get close to me for a really long time.”
I hold up one finger. “While that is somewhat true,” I say, “I refuse to admit it under these circumstances. Instead, I’m going to take one for the team and sit in the middle on the way back. Mitchell will probably be in a booster seat anyway.”
“Booster seat,” he repeats. “Forgot about those.”
I lay my hand on his arm again. “It’s going to be okay,” I say emphatically.
“If you say so,” he says as he blows out a heavy breath. “I guess we had better get going.” He lets his eyes slowly trail up and down my body. “You look really pretty, Abigail.”
I feel the heat as it creeps up my cheeks. “Thank you. You look pretty handsome yourself.”
He looks down at the jeans and t-shirt he’s wearing. “Shy gave me a team t-shirt,” he admits. He reaches over and opens the glove box, and he pulls out another. “He gave me one for you too.” He thrusts it in my direction.
“Well, that was nice of him.” I think about it. “When did all this happen? After I left?”
He shakes his head. “No, I went back. Got a few more staples. For tonight. In case Mitchell gets hungry.”
More like in case he gets hungry and I don’t know him well enough to know what to feed him. I hope he had the presence of mind to call his mother for advice on that.
“That was a good idea. Did you wash the sheets and set up his bed?”
He nods. “I did. It’s all ready.”
I grin at him. “Except for you.” I let my eyes wander around on his face. “You are so not ready.”
“I’m ready for him. I’m not ready for the rest of them.” He blows out a breath.
“Well, get ready, because it’s happening.” I motion for him to put the truck in gear. “Let’s do this thing”
He backs out, shifts all the way through the upper gears as we gain speed, and then he reaches over and takes my hand in his. He gives it a squeeze as he stares at the road in front of us. I squeeze back, and he looks over at me and grins. “I really like you,” he says.
“I really like you too,” I reply, my heart beating faster in my chest. And it’s true. I do like him. I like him a lot. I think I like him more than I should, and that’s the part that scares me.
His old truck rattles as we pull into the parking lot. It’s a gravel lot next to a recreational league ball field, with bleachers at the two top corners of the field. The bleachers are metal, and they don’t look like they’ll seat that many people.
We both get out and I say, “I’m going to go change my shirt.” I point toward the field restroom and don’t wait for him to acknowledge that I’m leaving. As I walk across to the restroom, I get some stares and see people whispering behind their hands to one another. I go into the stall and I pull my shirt off over my head. As I get ready to pull the new one on, I hear two voices as more women walk into the bathroom.
“I can’t believe he has the nerve to show up here after what he did,” one of them says. The voice is nasally and high. “And he brought a woman with him. Like he just wants to shove her in Imogene and Derrick’s faces.”
Who are Imogene and Derrick?
Another voice chimes in. “He thinks he can just walk right in here and be forgiven.”
The first speaker gives a very unladylike snort. “Last time I checked, murder wasn’t a forgivable offense.”
Murder?
The second voice chuckles. I pull my new shirt on and tuck it into my jeans. Then I flush the toilet to announce my presence and walk out into the sink area so I can see who has been speaking so vilely about Ethan. I find two women, both of whom are probably about my age. They freeze when they see me.
“Hello,” I say, and I wash my hands.
They say nothing. They just stare at me.
I reach for a paper towel. “Enjoy the game.” Still they say nothing.
I walk back to Ethan’s truck and toss my old shirt through the open window, still reeling over what I’d just heard. Then I stoop in front of the truck’s side-view mirror and try to tame my curls.
“You never could keep all that hair under control,” a voice calls out.
I turn and find a man who looks like he’s about my age standing there wearing a broad grin. There’s something vaguely familiar about him, but I can’t place him.
He mimes sticking himself in the heart with a knife. “You wound me, Abigail,” he says. “I can’t believe you’ve forgotten me.”
Suddenly, the playful glint in his eyes tips me off. “Little Robbie? Is that really you?” A grin I can’t begin to control contorts my face. I walk toward him and he sweeps me into a hug.
“Thank God,” he says. “I thought I was going to have to pull my pants down and show you the birthmark on my ass that looks like Texas before you’d remember me.”
I shove his shoulder. “What the hell are you doing here?” I can’t pull the grin on my face down, even though I try.
“My boy is on the same team,” he says.
Then I realize that he’s wearing a state trooper uniform, all the way down to the mirrored glasses that he has pushed on top of his head. I motion to this outfit. “It’s not Halloween yet, is it?”