Page 11 of The Perfect Game

I debated whether I should let them take me home, but at the same time, it would be a good excuse to have my dad come get me. I hadn’t seen him in days as practice for the NFL would begin in four weeks, which meant he was training extra to make sure he lasted the season with little to no injuries. Playing in his later thirties meant time was ticking on his contract and his pro-football shelf life, while he tended to forget that I wouldn’t be around forever either.

“Just go. Seriously, I’ll get my dad to come. He’ll be traveling soon, so it’ll be a good chance to bond.” I almost laughed at the idea of Steve Gates bonding with anyone that wasn’t holding a pigskin.

“Okay, you have our number in case you need it,” Jamie said, patting me on the shoulder. “Let’s go. I’ve got to get some water.”

Even in the shade, I hadn’t felt much relief from the rising temperature. The girls walked away, and I opened up my phone, seeing a message from my mother.

I’m so sorry, baby. We had some problems at the photoshoot. I probably won’t be home to go to lunch like we’d planned. Raincheck? Call me when you’re done with your thing.

Volleyball had always been a thing to her. I had moments of being a girly girl where I liked to get dressed up, but that was very rarely when my mom could see it. She’d tried to get me to wear her line of clothing countless times over the last couple of years, hoping my style of sports gear would change. There were a few items I didn’t mind wearing that she’d designed, but I wasn’t going to let her know that.

Getting injured in my favorite sport wasn’t something I could tell her. I’d lost count of the number of times she and my father had argued over playing volleyball as opposed to taking piano or some kind of dance class. That was about the only time my father really had anything to say about my extracurriculars, which I was grateful for.

I pulled up my dad’s number and dialed. “Please don’t be at the gym. Please answer.” I hadn’t thought about what I’d do if he couldn’t pick me up. With the amount of pain running from my ankle up to my kneecap now, I knew I wasn’t going to make it the three miles home.

“Hey, kid. How was the tournament?”

“No tournament, Dad. It was just a friendly game of sand volleyball.” I paused, breathing out in the hopes he’d be nearby. “But, I, uh, I got hurt.”

A short pause met my ears before he said, “Did you get back in there and play?”

Leave it to the professional athlete to challenge the amount of pain I was feeling right now. “I can barely stand on it. Are you close? I ran here, and Mom is at her photoshoot until late.”

“Yeah, I’m at the gym. Are you at Grover Park?”

“Yes. Just hanging out on a bench between the volleyball court and the baseball field.” Too late, I wished I wouldn’t have said anything about baseball.

He growled. “Baseball. What a waste of a sport.” He paused, the grunt signaling that he was trying to lift while still talking to me on the phone. “Let me just pack up here. We’ll figure out what to tell your mom on the drive over. See you in a few, kid.” He hung up, and I breathed out a sigh. At least I wouldn’t be stuck there for the rest of the day.

I turned, surprised to find the mound vacant of its former pitcher. Searching the field, I found him behind one of the dugouts, probably putting his gear away.

When he stood, he flicked his head to move the blond hair out of his face before he adjusted the hat on top of it. He picked up a bat bag and bucket of baseballs he’d been throwing with, walking in my direction.

He must have been focused on something because he didn’t see me as he walked past. It didn’t help that I’d turned my head, covering my face with my hand. With the pain increasing in my leg, I wasn’t in the mood to socialize.

I waited several moments before sitting back up and glancing around. A truck was still in the parking lot, but there was no one else in the park. Footsteps rustled the grass behind me, and I jumped, surprised to see Ben carrying the net he’d been using.

“Serena?” he said, pausing a few feet away.

My cheeks warmed, and I gave him a half-smile and waved. “Hey.” So much for dodging that one.

“I didn’t see you there. H-have you been here a while?” Ben stepped forward, leaning his hand on the end of the bench and staring at me with those deep blue eyes.

“Um, yeah. I was playing volleyball with my friends. I’m just waiting for my dad to come pick me up.”

He looked down and must have seen my hand rubbing at my ankle. “Are you all right? It looks like your ankle is double the size of the other one.”

I searched his face for any sign of teasing but only found sympathy there. I glanced down, startling when I saw that instead of the slender ankle I was used to, I was staring at a cankle, blue and black already appearing despite my tan skin.

“What happened?” Ben asked, taking a seat at the other end of the bench. “You probably should have left your shoe on.” He glanced down, lightly touching the area with his long fingers.

I’d be lying if I said I felt nothing from his touch. Was it because I hadn’t talked to a guy in weeks? But this was the same tingling I’d felt when our hands touched at the theater.

Studying his expression, I leaned my side against the back of the bench and smiled a bit. Was he actually worried about me? I tried to reconcile this guy with the one who’d been sick of talking to me at the play a few weeks ago. Had I just misjudged him? I shifted, feeling uncomfortable under his piercing gaze when he looked up at me. I was resigned to the fact that I was stuck there until my father remembered about his offspring.

Pursing my lips as I tried to come up with a snarky comment to his question, which didn’t happen, I said, “Just a volleyball injury. I tripped over one of my teammates and came down on it pretty hard. I thought I’d be fine after a few minutes of rest, but I’m still here.” I stretched my arms out at my sides to emphasize my words. Why I was still talking to this boy, I had no idea. It wasn’t like he was a doctor who could diagnose my injury.

“Those are never fun. Hopefully, it’s just a sprain.” The sincerity in his voice threw me for a loop. The second nice thing he’d said. Did he have a hidden agenda? Or was this just Ben?

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