Page 30 of Home Sweet Home

Kayla shrugged. “Already had two cups. And Ryleigh’s been waking up at the ass crack of dawn and crawling into bed with me. That girl has crazy dreams. She keeps karate chopping me in the face. That’ll wake anyone up. Why do you have those?”

Kayla traced her undereye with a finger. Evie had seen the bags, as purple as the bruise she’d once had on half her face, in the mirror that morning, but she’d been too tired to cover them with concealer.

“I kept having…” Evie peered down at her coffee, like the answer was at the bottom of her mug. “Thoughts.”

One of Kayla’s filled-in eyebrows arched up. “Ooh. What kind of thoughts?” Evie must have given something away on her face, because Kayla’s eyes widened even further. She leaned close on the counter. “Dirty ones?”

Evie shouldn’t have said anything. She had no clue why she couldn’t stop thinking about West and what he’d said or why she had been imagining things he hadn’t even done. The only logical conclusion was that Kayla had been right that night at Mel’s, and Evie really needed to get laid.

“No. Just exhausted. Practice and work. It’s been a lot.”

Kayla squinted, like she didn’t quite believe Evie, but before she could ask any more questions, the door chimed and Bob walked in.

“Hey, Bob,” Kayla said.

He waved, settling into his usual spot by the window, before pulling a rolled-up newspaper from his back pocket. Kayla slid off the counter stool, grabbed the pot of coffee, and started toward his table. After a few steps, she turned back. “This may be a horrible time to ask, but I’m going to the salon tonight to do some painting. Can you help? I’m pretty sure there are ants, and you know I don’t do bugs.”

“Of course I’ll help,” Evie said, grateful for the distraction.

Kayla gave Evie’s arm a light squeeze before heading off to take Bob’s order. “You’re the best.”

After work, Evie drove to the baseball diamond, her belly churning. She told herself it was the egg salad sandwich she’d scarfed down for lunch or the three cups of coffee she’d chugged trying to wake herself up burning a hole through her stomach lining.

Maybe I misunderstood. Maybe he wasn’t upset.The bathroom had been dark, and it could have been a trick of the light. The entire drive over to the baseball diamond, she talked herself into believing that. It was what kept her hands on the steering wheel, and when she got there and saw his Jeep already parked, it was the only thing that made her step one foot out of her car.

As she walked toward the field, West didn’t wave at her. He always waved at her. It had become a little routine: she showed up at the diamond and he stopped what he was doing, his hand flicking through the air, a smile creeping onto his face.

We see each other every day. I should just ask him, clear the air.She was about to, but just as she opened her mouth, Freddy’s car pulled into the parking lot.

Once practice started, she knew something had changed. West turned around if he saw her walking the same way. When they accidentally brushed against each other in the dugout, he recoiled, like she’d hurt him.

Maybe it was for the best. Her goals for the summer had been simple: get her money so she could save her house, and avoid revisiting any feelings for West Hawthorne. Both of those things were better managed if they spent as little time together as possible. But as practice went on, the distance between them was uncomfortable, like a tiny rock had snuck into her shoe.

Toward the end of practice, the boys started running laps, and West stepped into the dugout. When he saw Evie, he stopped and looked out toward the field like he was seriously considering going back out there, even though it was nice and cool in the shade. Then he moved past her and sat on the bench on the spot farthest away from her.

For a few seconds, he didn’t say anything. Since he’d shown up, she couldn’t get him to shut his mouth, and now he had no words, no jokes. He just focused on the field, like if he looked away, everyone would spontaneously combust. After a minute of it, she crumbled like a dry biscuit.

“You—” Evie started, just as West said, “Evie—”

They turned at the same time, their knees tilting toward each other, and the corner of his mouth tugged up.

“You go,” Evie said.

West sighed. “I couldn’t stop thinking last night, about what you said.”

She imagined him in his bedroom, not too far from her own, struggling to sleep just like she had been.

“I wish you’d talked to me instead of jumping to the worst possible conclusion.”

“Can’t you see why I did, though?” Evie said. “Even a little? I know what you said, but you never seemed shy about any of the other girls.”

He glanced at the boys on the field, gathered in packs as they ran laps. “It’s hard to explain.”

“Try.”

“I’m not good with words. Not like you. And I don’t want you getting all worked up when I get them wrong.”

“I won’t. Promise.”