Page 40 of Conrad

No, she’d think he was stalking her.Shoot.Maybe he was, because last night he’d pulled out of her driveway, then turned off his lights and sat in the darkness, waiting until her house darkened for the night before driving the few blocks home. He hadn’t realized she lived so close to him.

Delete.

“I can’t believe you’re coaching.” Jack wrenched up the seat. “You tried that once, years ago, and saidnever again.”

Conrad took the bench from Jack, hoping his brother didn’t see how he blanched as his lungs seized up.

“Things have clearly changed,” said Harper, singing the last word. “Coaching, eating pizza with a bunch of kids. Next thing you know he’ll be buying them new jerseys.”

Yes. Bam.

Conrad carried the seat out and dumped it. Then pulled out his phone.

Conrad

Hey. Wondering if you want to go pick out hockey gear with me for the team. Tomorrow afternoon?

He waited, saw the message change fromDeliveredtoRead.

Three dots . . . typing . . .

A moment later, the dots died.

Nothing.

He waited another minute, then pocketed the phone.

Probably better this way.

Harper came out of the bus, holding her car keys. “Jack and I are headed over to the house for Doyle’s goodbye party. You’re coming, right?”

He shoved his hands into his pockets, shrugged.

“What’s that look?” She walked over to him.

“Nothing. It’s just . . .” He shook his head. “She told me she wasn’t going to fall for me, so I’m not sure why I’m even?—”

“She got to you.”

“No, just . . .”

“Don’t let her stupidity scare you away. And don’t believe her about not falling for you. She’s got a huge heart—she’s just scared.”

He raised an eyebrow.

Harper made a wry face. “Okay, I probably shouldn’t tell you this, but Penelope had a boyfriend years ago named Ted Whitey. He played baseball for the University of Minnesota, but what he really wanted was a tryout—specifically for the Detroit Tigers, in Florida.”

She glanced at Jack, coming out of the bus, carrying his tools to his workbench. Back to Conrad. “Penelope was his biggest fan, and of course, when she found out that he wanted to go, she was all in. Except it cost money—he had to stay and train for six weeks and even needed a batting coach. Anyway, she sprang for it. Dipped into her trust fund, handed over thousands of dollars to get him to Florida for tryout season.”

A sickness stirred in his gut.

“She waited until tryout week and then flew down to see him. Except—he wasn’t there.”

“What?”

“He’d gone to Florida, washed out the first week, hooked up with some girl, took the money and vanished. Sixty g’s, which isn’t a lot for a Pepper, maybe, but he took her money and ghosted her. Of course, her father tracked him down—in Vegas. He’d gotten it in his head that he might strike it rich and blew the entire wad. Oh, and he got married. Different girl. Elvis presided.”

Conrad fought a terrible urge to hop on a plane to Vegas, have a little chat with baseball boy. Except, imagine if the kidhadn’tlied . . . well, maybe Penelope would be hitched to the schmuck right now.

---