It went around the bar last night and spread from there. The second I got here, the team started in on me, wouldn't quit ribbing me until I snapped on one of them hard enough to shut them all up. Then the crowd started to arrive. I could almost watch the news get passed around from one cluster of people to another. All their disappointed, judgmental eyes were on me.
And then I spotted her climbing into the stands toward Cass, waving at Cricket, completely unaware of the heads turning, the whispers starting. When she sat, she spotted me easily. Waved with that bright, open smile that guts me every time.
And all those prying eyes turned to her. People leaned in to whisper. Point. Pretended to be discreet while they talked their shit.
I can feel my pulse in my eyeballs and try to take a breath.
God fucking help me if I hear one unkind word spoken to her. I'll end up in handcuffs.
I have fucked up the whole game. Lost track of the count. Made bad calls. I almost got hit by a foul ball, which is wild because I didn't even know the ball had been hit. I was too busy thinking about her.
And now it’s the end of the game. We’re about to lose. And it’s all my fault.
The game. The gossip.
If I hadn't given in, none of this would have happened.
I turn to the field, fold my arms. Pretend to watch the bottom of the last inning like I have one fucking clue what's going on.
Tate pulls up next to me, hooks his fingers on the chain link, pretends he's watching too.
"You look like shit, old man," he says so only I can hear.
I don't answer.
"What the fuck happened last night? I heard you and Molly kissed, heard everybody talking, but--"
"I fucked up. These are the consequences."
When I don't elaborate, he says, "You're not calling that an answer, are you?"
I huff. Stare for a second. "She hit the ball for the first time, grand slam, won the game. Ran straight for me, and I just…there wasn't anybody else in the world. She was so happy, andthen she was in my arms and…" I shake my head, swallow my feelings. "I just forgot it was a secret."
"Do you want it to be a secret?"
I cut him a look. "Quit digging, Romeo."
"You gonna make it out of here without tearing somebody's head off?"
"Keep talking and find out."
He snorts a laugh, but it dies quickly. "I wouldn't be any better off if I were you, I'm sure." He pauses for a beat. "At the bar last night, everybody was talking about it, kept coming to the table to ask what we knew. Nobody said anything but fuck off. It's bad, Grey. What they're saying. "
Anger flashes through me. I grind my teeth, staring blindly at the field. "Tell me."
He sighs. "You know, the typical. That she's too young to know better, doesn't understand what she's doing, what you're doing to her. You're too old for her. You're preying on her. That your grandma would--"
My shock at the mention of her tears through me. "Don't." The word is sharp, hard. "Not that."
"Hey, you asked. They're calling you a predator."
"I don't give a fuck what they say about me."
"I know. But I'm pretty sure you give a fuck if they're talking abouther.Probably to her face, and if they haven't yet, it'll be soon."
My hands ball into fists.
"But it's worse."
