“So, you say but I know better. One day you’ll trust me enough to tell me everything.”
Her words held promise and he couldn’t deny he liked the idea that they had a future. “I’ve been known to talk about my life a time or two.”
“Then if I ask you a few questions, you’ll answer?” One brow popped up over her probing gaze.
“Ask away. I might not answer every question, but maybe I will.”
She laid her sandwich back into the wrapper. “Outside of sports and sandwiches, what was your childhood like?”
“Fun. Easy. The best childhood.” He watched the game and felt a sliver of nostalgia. One kid hit a home-run and the crowd of parents jumped up and cheered loudly.
“Sounds like a wining childhood.” Her mouth slipped into a frown.
“What about yours?”
“Oh no. You’re not going to get away with that. I’m supposed to be asking questions about you.”
“It’s a give and take.” He stretched his legs, shifting slightly so he could watch her instead of the game. “Come on. It’s just two friends sharing life history. What’s shared in my truck stays in my truck. Pinky promise.” He held up his finger.
“You know pinky promises can’t be broken for anything,” she said seriously.
“I know what a pinky promise is.”
“Just remember the pinky promise was your idea.” She wrapped her much smaller finger around his and he felt a jolt shoot up his arm.
“What do you want to know?” He’d give this a try. He’d never liked being in the spotlight and about the only time he felt comfortable being the star was when he was holding a bat.
“I won’t make this too painful. Were your parents married? Divorced? Do you have siblings?”
“Yes. No. Yes. I have a brother.” He wadded up his trash and made it into a ball and tossed it through the window into the trashcan. “Dillon. He’s five years younger than me.”
“Are you two close?”
“Very, we just don’t get to see each other often because he’s a firefighter and spends most of his time putting out fires.”He gripped the back of his neck and kneaded the sore muscles. “Okay. We made a pact. I will tell you something, you will tell me something. What was your family like?”
She laid her hands in her lap. “I’m afraid as far as childhoods go mine was more like The Addams Family instead of the Brady Bunch.”
“You watched those old shows too?”
“Hasn’t everyone?” The hesitation lasted long enough that he decided she probably wouldn’t tell him more. Then she surprised him. “My mom had three addictions. Men, alcohol and drugs. All three were equally terrible.”
“I’m sorry.” He felt guilty that he’d asked. He could see the light in her eyes dull some.
She picked up her grilled cheese and stared at it. “My memories are not of baseball games and good times. Mine involve stealing food to keep from going hungry and cleaning my mother up after she’d been beaten by another boyfriend that she swore would be her knight in shining armor.Until Chuck Norris [1]came along.”
“Chuck Norris?”
“Different hero. My stepfather didn’t do martial arts, didn’t have six-pack abs, but he was a good guy. I cared for him. It was the closest to normalcy in a family that I had growing up. I should have known it was too good to be true.”
“What happened?”
“He died.” She sighed. “Then things turned ugly again.”
“I guess I assumed you had always lived with Pedora.”
“My sister, Phoebe, and I moved in with her when I was fourteen. Pedora was a life saver, literally. I can’t imagine where I’d be now if it wasn’t for her.”
“You’ve never mentioned your sister.”
