Page 54 of Putting Out
“That’s me,” Luke smiled. Endorsement whore. I can’t believe you actually got Reilly to agree to exercise.”
“She wasn’t a fan at first, but I think she’s coming around.”
Reilly lifted her sports tank under the bulky winter coat.
“Hard as a rock. Go on hit me as hard as you can.”
Luke jabbed his fist into her middle and she buckled over.
“Not that hard!”
“You asked for it.”
“Another few weeks and you won’t feel a thing. I promise. If you don’t mind, I’m going to go grab a quick shower.” Pierce jogged up the steps with too much energy for someone who had just spent the past hour working out almost as hard as she had.
“God, I hate him. Even if he is beautiful.” Reilly shrugged out of her coat and left it on one of the kitchen stools.
“Seems like a nice guy,” Luke commented.
“Don’t worry. He bats for the other side,” Reilly assured him, somehow sensing a tone beneath the casual comment. Not that she had to assure him of anything. Not that he would care. Still, she’d done it, anyway. “All womankind is sorry for it too.”
“Shucks.”
“Pour me a cup of coffee while he’s gone, will you? I only have so much time and green tea simply doesn’t cut it. Where are Grams and Pop and Odie?”
“They were gone when I woke up. Pop left a note about going shopping.”
Luke found a mug and poured her half a cup. Reilly sat across from Kenny, who was staring at his mug with a still-surly scowl on his face. Underneath the mug was a letter, which had a postmarked stamp over it. Reilly could only make out RETURN TO SE before the mug covered up the other letters.
“What’s that?”
“Nothing,” Kenny snapped. He pulled the card-shaped letter out from under the mug and folded it so he could shove it in his back pocket. “None of your business.”
“Sorry.” Reilly knew her brother well enough to know as irritable as he typically was in the morning, something had made him even worse this morning. In cases like these it was best to avoid conversation with him altogether.
“The postman dropped off your mail this morning,” Luke said as he brought a handful of letters with him to the table.
“It comes in a sack.”
“I know. It’s crazy. And the sick things people send. Do you know how many pairs of underwear from men and women I’ve gotten? It’s too gross. Why does anyone think I want their underwear?”
“I’m not worried about the underwear. I’m more worried about this.”
Luke held up the hand- written letter and read, “‘I can’t help but think about you every day. Then I think about you playing in that tournament for everyone to see. It’s not right. You don’t belong to all those people. You belong to me. I can’t breathe for worrying’…”
Reilly tugged the paper out of his hand. “Will you stop? There’s no need to give credence to some sick bastard by reading his letter.”
“That’s the breathe guy,” Kenny said. “He’s called, too. Which means he somehow got the house number. And it’s not the first letter from him.”
“How many others?” Luke asked.
“At least one a day since the day after the announcement,” Kenny told him.
Luke frowned and took the letter back from Reilly.
“Along with hundreds of others,” Reilly pointed out. “Trust me when I tell you he’s not the only nutcase out there.”
Luke ignored her and read another paragraph. “‘I want to take you away from all of them. I want to put you someplace I know you’ll be safe.’ Do they all say stuff like this? About ‘taking’ you away somewhere?”
