Page 92 of Honeysuckle
“What?” I asked.
“The pine tar you use for the grip on your bat, I fucking hated that smell and now…” He smiled. "I don’t know, I kinda like it.”
I hated how effortlessly he existed in these tense moments.
Like his only job was to make sure I felt… seen.
He was changing the subject for me so that I didn’t have to feel tied down by the trauma. I pulled my hand away gently and cleared my throat, pushing off the ground.
“We should change for practice before the team gets here,” I said, brushing my face with the back of my hands just in case the tears streaming down my face were real. Dean watched me for a second, hesitant to rise, but followed a moment later.
He thankfully left the issue alone after that. Other players flooded the stadium for practice, and before long, I was running out the negativity in angry sprints that caused the sweat to pool between my shoulder blades.
I watched as Dean talked to Arlo on first base and wondered if he was as twisted up as I was inside about everything. The second the guys started to arrive, it was like a whole new version of him came out. There was a bright smile on his face that hid any trace that an hour ago we were fighting about who was more screwed up.
It pissed me off to no end that he could flip the switch like that.
Even worse, everyone had shown up today, the field was overwhelmed with noise and unnecessary bodies. Silas leaned against the banister beside Ella, the two of them going over notes. They were keeping a close eye on Cael, who was still tensing up everytime he had to swing a bat but he was getting better at hiding it. All the injuries on the team were minor, strains and pulls, nothing to be overly worried about going into the season.
Our next game was against Lorette and I already knew that it was going to be a disaster. Tension was high without the added pressure of it being the first time I was facing my old team. In a usual circumstance, it would be fun to see old teammates, to catch up and enjoy the sport as rivals. But I hadn’t left on good terms, I didn’t even leave of my own free will. I was banished after being attacked in the locker room and protecting myself.
I was a pariah.
A loose canon.
An animal to them.
The thought of tomorrow was making me sick to my stomach, and there was nothing I could do about it but wait it out. Dean’s laughter echoed across the field as he wandered from Arlo, who gave him the middle finger, and joined Nicholas and Coach.
I stopped to catch my breath, doubling over in the grass as the rest of the team continued the sprints around me and everything felt like a blur. It was unfair that they could all just carry on the way they did.
You’re not my son.
The secret of who I was didn’t bother me—I could deny being a Shore until my last breath. But having my mother remind me constantly... That was different. She had a way of getting under my skin quicker than anyone else. With such ease, she disrupted what progress I made; every step away from that apartment was a day cleansed of its torture and trauma. But she found me wherever I went and now… Dean was tangled up in it.
There was no doubt that he would keep my secret; he was good at shoving down the bad stuff, ignoring it like it never existed in the first place. The way he joked around with Cael in the outfield as they tossed a ball around proved that much. But I had a feeling he’d weaponize his knowledge to hold me to my promise.
I needed to make a meeting with Riona before he called my bluff.
Practice went well and before going back to the nest I found myself knocking on her office door. She looked up from her desk with a smile, those bright eyes and friendly smile a Cody staple. She looked like Coach—if he were a woman who dressed much better.
“Joshua Logan,” she set her pen down and leaned back in her chair with a smug look on her face. “Thank you.”
“For what?” I said, my tone already annoyed. Every member of the Cody family had this annoying personality trait that made them feel untouchable. They spoke in goofy Texan riddles and never got to the point of things withoutmaking a point.
“Ryan owes me fifty bucks,” she said. "He said you wouldn't darken my doorstep until long after the Lorettes’ game, but I was sure you’d make it in here before.”
“You made a bet with Coach on when I’d come see you…” I narrowed my eyes on her, but I found myself wandering further into the office. It was nice inside, clean and comfortable. It felt like being in someone's home, a dark plush couch, a few matching chairs. It smelled like citrus and flowers.
“And Silas,” she added. "He also owes me money.”
“What was his wager?” I asked, suddenly a little more curious.
“Oh, he was sure you’d never come up here,” she said with that same smug smile. "But here you are.”
“Here I am,” I nodded and pulled my hand from my sweater pocket to offer it to her, despite not wanting to touch her. It was polite, and shaking hands usually kept people from asking questions. Rude is the word they often used when I refused to do so.
She finally stood, and she was taller than I had expected, her blonde hair short to her scalp, and big jade earrings dangled from her ears. She looked down at my hand and back up to me without shaking it.
