“Yeah, that’s commitment right there,” I said, my rasp back. I tried to swallow the sudden dryness in my throat, but it didn’t work.
“You need a drink?” Chase asked.
“No, my voice is just trashed from my game. It’s getting better.”
“How are you guys doing?”
“My team? Good. I told you we won last night, so we’ve only got the one loss. We have a really good team this year.” It was easy to slip into softball talk, safe, so I did. I kept waiting for Chase’s eyes to glaze over, but they didn’t. He asked about my teammates and how long I’d been playing. He asked a lot of questions, and I answered, finding them easier and easier each time. And even though I shouldn’t have squandered an opportunity to learn more about my brother, it was all too easy to let my self-consciousness over Brandon fade and my growing awareness of Chase take its place.
Had I thought him just cute the first time we met? That was such an inadequate word for Chase. The way his mouth pulled a little to the side when he smiled and talked at the same time was more than cute. The way he focused completely on my face when I said something, the way he took my hand when we walked and kept asking me about a sport he didn’t play or watch because I liked it. Being with him, I could have melted like the ice-cream cone I kept forgetting to eat.
“So what’s it like having your dad as your coach?”
I stilled. People had asked me that question my whole life and I normally answered the same way Selena did, saying it was the best of both worlds. But it wasn’t like that at all. Rather than give Chase the well-rehearsed line, I told him the truth. “I don’t really know. He’s not my dad on the field.”
Chase frowned. “What does that mean?”
I didn’t answer right away, covering my silence by getting up to throw my cone away. “It’s this thing he and Selena came up with…or maybe just him—I don’t remember. Basically, when we’re playing, I’m not his kid and he’s not my dad. He’s the coach and I’m a player. We don’t drag anything from home onto the field, good or bad.”
Chase’s gaze never left me when I returned to the bench. “You never call him Dad during a game?”
“Nope.” I wished I hadn’t thrown my cone away, because I had nothing to do with my hands. I picked at a piece of rust on the arm of the metal bench. “My dad…he’s never been super affectionate.” I rushed through the explanation of him being a foster kid and how it was hard for him, even with Mom, to show his emotions, at least the softer ones, because he was never shown how. “So the coach role on the field isn’t all that different from the dad role everywhere else.” My voice trailed off as I heard my own words. “I mean, it is, obviously, but he’s been a coach since before I was old enough to be on a team. I think it’s easier for him to…coach.” I fell silent, and so did Chase. “I’m not explaining this right.”
“It’s fine. I was just curious.”
I was grateful when Chase went back to asking about softball instead of my dad, but part of my mind hung back. I felt this need to defend my dad even in the midst of discovering I had a brother. I didn’t want Chase thinking my dad was this cold, unfeeling figure in my life. He wasn’t really… Like Mom always said, he was trying to show us love the only way he knew how. It didn’t always feel like love—the constant scrutinizing focus, the push to work harder and show him I could be good enough…worthy. But I did feel it, even as I wished I didn’t have to try so hard. Or I used to, until these nagging thoughts wormed their way into my brain. Until now I’d never had a reason to wonder if the love I craved from him was worth it.
“When do I get to come see you play?”
“Oh, um…” My nerves jangled to life. He couldn’t. One look at Dad, and it would be over. Brandon and I shared some traits, sure, but not all, and our genders blurred the resemblance even further. But Brandon and Dad? I wouldn’t be able to hide the relationship. I would lose everything.
“To be honest, I think having you there might make me nervous.”
“I’ve seen you hit, Dana. You don’t seem like the nervous type.”
“Games are different,” I said, inventing as I went along. “I’ve only let one guy come watch me, and the first time he showed, my team still lost.”
Chase turned his head. “So it’s a superstition thing?”
Okay, sure.“Yes.”
“What about the guy?”
“Nick? We’ve been friends since eighth grade.” I started to smile, but my mouth had barely lifted when it died. Based on the way he’d fled from me on Tuesday and hid from me all that day at school, I didn’t know if I could call him my friend anymore. That thought made the ice cream in my stomach sour. I still hadn’t talked to Nick. His new job had him working after school, and me showing up at the café where he’d be forced to wait on me… No, I wouldn’t do that to him on top of everything else. Remembering his face the day before… He’d looked at me like I’d ripped his still-beating heart from his chest and crushed it in my fist. My own heart constricted at the memory. “You’d like him,” I told Chase, trying to distract myself from a situation I couldn’t even try to fix until tomorrow at school.
Chase angled himself toward me. “This is new, you and me, but I likeyou, Dana.”
My heart, already hurting over Nick, lurched at his words. We’d gone out only a few times, but I already liked Chase way too much. I’d liked him too much that first night, and every time I saw him, it got worse…because it got better.
“So do me a favor and tell me, okay?”
There were so many ways that question could be interpreted, and sweat prickled my skin thinking of my options. “Tell you what?”
“When you’re ready for me to see you play.”
CHAPTER 20
Nick had been at school on Wednesday, but he skipped Biology, so I only caught a glimpse of him between classes. For the first time all year, I was the one tracking him down and waiting outside his classes. I’d never thought about what a pain in the butt that was. Apart from our first period and Biology, the distance between our classes was almost comically far. On Thursday, I had to run, full-out, to be in place by his second-period class before him. Shame hit me anew as I rubbed out a stitch in my side waiting for him. He’d done this for me all the time, in fact most days, and he’d never complained or suggested we take turns.
