Lia’s confession stopped me cold.
I stared at my phone. “What do you mean?”
“I mean—Reece and I did a thing.”
“Did a ‘thing’?”
Lia nodded. “You know the board thingy they put the score on and then run local ads above it?”
“Yessssss?” I couldn’t breathe.
“We might have gotten them to put up a message on the board at the bottom of the first inning. When Brooks is up to bat.”
“What message?” I stiffened, a new sort of panicfilling me.
“An ‘I really do love you, Brooks Mason,’ kind of message?” Lia’s voice ended on a high note, and she scrunched her face up as though I could reach through the phone and strangle her.
“You didn’t.” I was horrified. Mortified. Petrified. All the‘fiedsrolled into one.
“We did.” Lia nodded. Then she lifted her chin as if to get all stubborn on me. “Someone had to do it. You both need to stop longing and start loving.”
“Okay, that’s dumb,” I snapped.
“Well, it’s too late,” Lia shrugged. There was a little smile of self-satisfaction. “And if you don’t get to the bleachers, you’re going to miss Brooks’s reaction when it goes up on the board.”
“You’re serious?” I couldn’t believe Reece and Lia had actually done something so stupid!
“Girl,” Lia responded, “sometimes your best friend and brother just need to be there for you when you can’t say what needs to be said. We got your back.”
I scrambled from the car. The keys flew onto the floor in my panic. I yanked the phone off its hook. I slammed the car door as I half fell out of the driver’s seat.
“I’m going to kill you, Lia!” I yelled as I sprinted for the box where the people who ran the digital board sat.
“No, you won’t!” she yelled back from my phone. “You’re going to thank me! I know you love me!”
Chapter 32
Brooks
We had the other team at two outs with two strikes already. Reece’s pitching was hot today, and I was playing good. Coach had said his recruiter friend was coming later in the year due to a scheduling conflict. I was glad I didn’t have to think about that during my first game of the season. Still, I was a bit on edge. Somehow, Mom had convinced Dad to come to a game. Something about agreeing to “meet in the middle”. If their middle was me, I was okay with that, as long as it wasn’tonme to hold them together.
But, they’d left the house smiling. Sure, Dad had brought a book with him, but I knew Brielle probably would too.
Brielle. I had determined not to think of her. But when I got to the ballpark and met up with Reece, I also saw his parents. Mrs. Walters gave me a side-hug, and Mr. Walters did that head-nod of his that made you wonder if he liked you, was mad at you, or didn’t care one way or the other.
I’d looked around without thinking, and Reece had leaned over and muttered, “Brielle’s coming on her own.”
I gave Reece an I-don’t-care-whatever-so-what look, and we’d headed forthe dugout.
Now, it was game time.
Reece delivered the next pitch.
Swing and hit, and it was foul.
I threw the ball back at Reece.
The batter repositioned himself, kicking at the plate.
