Page 67 of All For You
Wondering if Owen had seen the magazine, I saved it, then forwarded it to his number. I didn’t expect him to reply, since he was at the camp, but not a moment later, he replied with a short video of a man rolling on the floor laughing.
Owen:
Owen: Funniest thing I’ve seen all week.
Owen: You know not to believe that stuff, right?
Me: Yep. Who did the message come from? 761-555-8963
Owen: That’s my best friend Marc. I’m pissed someone published this.
Me: Did you give him my number?
Owen: No, but it’s not hard to find on the internet, cricket.
Me: Are you ever going to tell me why you call me that?
Owen: Maybe one day. Will I see you soon?
Me: On my way.
My thumbs hesitated over the letters on my phone. I almost typed out the words “love you” but held back. Whatwould he do if I did? Would he freak out? Return the sentiment? Run for the hills? The fear of rejection had me sliding my phone into the pocket on the side of my pantleg and grabbing my car keys. Plus, that wasn’t really something I should say for the first time over a text. Like Tryston’s date proposal, the thought gave me the ick.
The entire time I drove to the baseball fields, I wondered if it was better in the long run to keep my feelings for Owen to myself. Nothing good would come of it. But then I thought about how I’d feel if I were him. He’d been tricked and lied to most of his life. Other than Beverly, he had probably never experienced a real, unconditional love.
With stunned recognition, I realized I wanted to be that for him.
But I wasn’t sure it was in the cards.
Chapter Seventeen - Aspen
My car sputtered as I pulled in next to Owen’s fancy sports car. He tried to explain the vehicle to me a dozen times, but it went in one ear and out the other. I left the keys in the cup holder, because I knew not a single soul was going to try to take the rust bucket, and exited the car.
Off in the distance, past the banner proclaiming the areaOwen Ramsey Field, the man of the hour stood proudly surrounded by a group of boys, all of various heights and ages. I picked out little Roman immediately. He anxiously swayed back and forth with his bat in one hand as he looked up at his idol. It was the cutest thing I’d ever seen. All the kids and teens hung onto Owen’s every word. Reaching into my pocket, I grabbed my phone and snapped a few pictures.
As I slipped my cell back into my pocket, Owen’s eyes caught mine, and his grin doubled in size. He mentioned something to the kids, and they scurried off in pairs as he jogged over toward me. Before I could even get a word in, he cupped both of my cheeks while pressing his lips against mine.
“You made it,” he said in awe.
Laughing, I replied, “I literally told you thirty minutes ago I was on my way.”
He shrugged, but his enthusiasm didn’t diminish in the slightest. I wondered how many times growing up he’d been promised something and then it didn’t happen.
“How is the camp going?” I asked as he grasped my hand and tugged me into step with him.
“Good. The kids are really eager to learn.”
“Have your fans shown up yet?”
Owen chuckled and explained that Coach Rudicell rushed them out of the park, claiming he was going to call the cops since it was a private event.
“I don’t have anyone to pair you with, so you’re playing with me,” he informed me, and he winked as we reached a bag with about ten bats inside.
“Owen. No. I didn’t sign up for this. I’m just here to watch.”
“Ah, come on,” he said with a boyish grin I couldn’t say no to. “It’ll be fun.”
His blue-gray eyes twinkled, and I found myself agreeing but reminded him about my lack of hand-eye coordination.
