Page 85 of Wild Pitch
I drag my feet around the house the same way I used to when I returned home after school, exhausted and sleepy afterstudying all day and then doing my extracurriculars. I was in track and softball, because only one thing was never enough, and also because I figured learning to run would make me a better softball player. It worked, I guess, because I played in college. In fact, Dad still has a few of my medals hanging in the living room walls along with the family pictures.
I stop by one of Mom’s that Dad must’ve taken himself. Newborn me is in her arms, while a small and cute Eduardo Jr. clings to her skirt. Geez, what happened to him to become exactly the opposite? My eyes return to Mom’s face for a second, though, lingering on features that are now very clear on my face. The same defined eyebrows and dark eyes, the same kind of wide smile.
“Genes, man.” I sniff.
I tear myself from the spot and keep trudging to my old room. After dumping my travel bag at the foot of the bed, I let myself drop on my bed face down. I kind of smush my nose but I don’t care, I’m too tired to move now. I’m glad I was okay yesterday and could help Cade out a bit, though.
“Cade,” I whisper, savoring how his name rolls off my tongue easier than it should. I bury my face against my mattress, although there’s no one else here that I should hide my blush from.
Me muero.
I’ve been trying not to think about it since the moment I left his house, but I’m not that good at compartmentalizing. And let’s be honest, that was pretty memorable. One thing was the accidental cuddling he clearly has no recollection of, but another entirely was me purposely hugging him.
An unidentified sound comes out of my throat, the result of embarrassment mixing together with the feminine urge to squeal and curse at the same time.
Because what the hell was I thinking?
I wasn’t. I was overcome by so much emotion once Mrs. Gonzalez, the cleaning lady, put together the final piece of the Cade Starr puzzle. I apologized for having acted like a turd to him. And now I feel like I should apologize for being so much nicer after learning about this aspect of his life, when I’m sure all he wanted was to be treated as usual. And then I went and said I want to use his first name from now on?
“Ugh.Ugh!”
Of course he wouldn’t say no. He was sick. His brain wasn’t working as usual, as exemplified by the sleepy cuddles. I bet he was weirded out that I freaking hugged him.
I turn my face so I can breathe again, and there’s a tickle in my nose that propels me—albeit slowly—to the bathroom to blow my nose. Afterward, I look at myself in the mirror and my whole face is a tomato.
“We can never face him again,” I say to my reflection and she shakes her head back at me. “What would Mom have done?” I ask mirror-me, but she doesn’t answer back.
Probably apologize, I think with a huff.
Slowly, I trudge back to my bed and this time I sit on it in a more civilized way. I stretch to remove my cell phone from the front pocket of my joggers, scroll and tap until I find his text message chat.
My thumb hovers without doing anything for a long moment.
“Mom, make me brave,” I whisper and maybe it’s placebo, maybe it isn’t, but I finally go for it.
Me
How are you feeling today?
And now I wait for him to give me an opening. It’s early and I’m sure he’s going to sleep in while he recovers. I leave my phone on the bedside table, right next to the smiley face alarmclock that I spent weeks saving for in middle school. Shuffling without leaving the bed, I open my bag and pluck one of the kinesthesia books to settle into bed with.
I’m tucked in and comfy, only as far as page two of the introduction, when my phone buzzes. I chuck the book at my mattress and grab my phone.
Annoying Cowboy
Still sluggish
Thanks for asking, darlin’
I suck air through my teeth. These days thatdarlin’of his is hitting me differently, and I hate it because it’s all in my head.
Me
Hope
Remember?
“Oh, shit,” I mutter, smacking my forehead. I was supposed to be apologizing for that and not digging my heels further.
