Page 59 of The Problem with Players

“Talking to your sisters?” Nathan asked from the kitchen as he whippedeggs in a mixing bowl.

“How did you know?”

“Because you laughed a few times. They were always able to make you laugh, no matter what.”

I smiled at that thought. It was true. Whenever I was at my lowest, my family had a way of making it seem as if the sky was no longer falling. And if the sky were falling, they’d toss themselves beneath it and hold it up as long as they could before it could crash over me.

“They want to kill him,” I confessed. “Or, well, at least take out his kneecaps.”

“With a metal baseball bat?”

“They said wooden.”

“Oh.” He grimaced as he kept whipping those eggs. “I would’ve gone metal.”

A lazy smirk fell against my face, but it faltered quickly. “Thanks again for letting me crash here for the weekend. I needed to get away, and this worked out very well.”

“Not a problem. And I know you probably thought I was shitting you, but you can stay with me in Honey Creek, too. I have a whole house to myself.”

“Nathaniel,” I scolded. “That’s a terrible idea.”

“Why is that a terrible idea? It’s a whole house. You won’t even see me if you don’t want to. Or we could go over stats for our players and all the baseball stuff. Or, again, you cannotsee me at all. Whatever you need, I got you.”

“It’s a terrible idea because, well, I hate you, remember?”

Oh, the lies I told out loud.

He smiled the smile that made me want to blush. “I know, and I love your hate, but I want to make sure you have somewhere to land while you figure everything out.”

“I can get an apartment.”

“You shouldn’t be alone.”

“I’ll be fine alone.”

His stirring stopped, and he set the bowl down on thecounter. He walked over to me, pulled his coffee table closer to the couch, and took a seat. His brown eyes locked in on mine, and he shook his head. “You shouldn’t be alone, Ave.”

A nervous chuckle escaped my lips. “Why would you be concerned with…” The pieces started collecting in my head as to why he was so deeply concerned with me being alone and why he had slept outside my door last night. I started to recall the conversation the night prior, and a pit of nervousness slammed straight into my stomach.

I took a deep inhale and released it slowly as I started fidgeting with my hands. I stared down at them because looking into his eyes felt too intense.

“Listen, Nathan, I was drunk last night.”

“Drunk people tell the truth.”

“Yeah, but they don’t mean to. You don’t have to worry about me. I’ll be fine. I’m always fine.”

“You’re not always fine.”

Yes, you’re right.

I shrugged. “But I’m a good actress.”

“Not with me, Coach. I see you.”

“I know,” I whispered, tugging on the sleeves of his sweatshirt. “I always hated that you could see me.”

“I kind of loved it myself.” He clasped his hands together and tapped his feet against his living room rug. “I’m worried about you.”

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