I nodded. Nick was trying to save up for a new car. According to Jessalyn, his current rusted jalopy was made of Lifetime movies and people who take their cousin to prom and therefore too sad to drive except under the direst of circumstances. I had to agree it was pretty rough, and it died more often than it ran. Our friend Jill worked as a mechanic at her dad’s garage and had been keeping it alive for him, but she’d recently started begging him to let her put it down.
“I promised to give him a ride and help him with his totally unnecessary nerves,” Jessalyn went on. “I could talk to him a little and maybe subtly hint that his solo silent game around all of us might not be the best way to get a girl to like him.”
I hugged her tight. “Thanks, Jess.”
She gave me a long, considering look when I released her. “Just don’t be that girl, okay? Nick is a sweet guy who really likes you. If you know he’ll never be more to you than he is right now, then save him from worse heartache and cut him loose.”
I appreciated Jessalyn’s concern for Nick, but I did like him, a lot. I just needed to give my heart enough time to catch up to my head. Then there wouldn’t be any heartache at all.
“I’m not going to hurt him,” I said. “But Coach will put the hurt on us if we’re late to practice, so…” I nodded at the cleat she still needed to tie. I checked my phone one last time before putting it in my locker. Most of the girls were already outside, but a few were still here.
“Dana,” Ainsley said, drawing my attention to the far end of the bench. “Will you please tell Sadie that your sister pitched two no-hitters in a row her senior year?”
Technically, it had been her junior year, but I kept that clarification to myself and just nodded my answer.
“Wow,” Sadie said, leaning back and looking sort of dazed. Sadie was our starting pitcher and had, to my knowledge, never pitched a single no-hitter in her life. Ainsley knew that too. She could be petty like that. It was almost as exhausting as fielding grounders for four hours after dinner.
“Don’t sweat it, Sadie,” I said, gathering my hair into a ponytail. “Selena was awesome, but your curveball is nasty.” I looked at Jessalyn. “You’re hitting .400 right now.” Then, to Ivy, “And you’re a vacuum cleaner at first base.” I turned to each girl in the room, naming a unique strength she brought to the team. Even Ainsley, hoping she’d remember we were a team and needed to be strong together. “And your speed.”
Sadie brightened; so did everyone else.
“Nice,” Jessalyn said to me in a low voice as we followed the rest of the girls—all smiling—to the field. “Your dad needs to see you like this. What you do for our team off the field is just as important as what you do for us on.”
With one last thought about the phone inside my locker, I said, “Hopefully, he will soon.”
* * *
Practice was grueling, and my shoulder was screaming by the time I got back to the locker room. It was like mycoachhad no idea how hard mydadhad made me work the night before. I was dreading what Dad would have in store for me after dinner. It was all I could think about as I opened my locker and pulled out my clothes.
My phone was on top of my shirt, and the screen was lit up. I grabbed it…and it was like taking a bat to the gut when I read Brandon’s reply.
Sorry, I live in Arizona too but I think you’ve got the wrong guy. I only just turned 18.
CHAPTER 6
“Hello? Earth to Dana.” Ivy waved a hand in my face, breaking my stare at my phone screen.
“What?”
“A bunch of us are going for ice cream. Are you in?”
Half a dozen pairs of eyes were on me, including Jessalyn’s.
“Something wrong?” she asked, and then started to smile. “Wait, is it…” Her gaze flicked to my phone, and her grin grew. She lowered her voice so that only I could hear. I hadn’t told anyone else on the team what I was doing, because I hadn’t wanted word to get to my dad/our coach. “Is it something from your grandfather?”
I fought to keep my hand steady as I shoved my phone and cleats in my bag, not bothering with anything else. “No, I just need to go. Sorry.” Then I was pushing open the heavy locker room door and bursting into the now-empty quad.
He can’t be eighteen.
He’s my 65-year-old grandfather.
No.
It was a tiny word, so I said it out loud. “No.” A million times no.
No, no, no.
There was no way that Dad had an affair.
