Total pages in book: 127
Estimated words: 122219 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 611(@200wpm)___ 489(@250wpm)___ 407(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 122219 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 611(@200wpm)___ 489(@250wpm)___ 407(@300wpm)
I smiled at that thought. It was true. Whenever I was at my lowest, my family had a way of making it seem as if the sky was no longer falling. And if the sky were falling, they’d toss themselves beneath it and hold it up as long as they could before it could crash over me.
“They want to kill him,” I confessed. “Or, well, at least take out his kneecaps.”
“With a metal baseball bat?”
“They said wooden.”
“Oh.” He grimaced as he kept whipping those eggs. “I would’ve gone metal.”
A lazy smirk fell against my face, but it faltered quickly. “Thanks again for letting me crash here for the weekend. I needed to get away, and this worked out very well.”
“Not a problem. And I know you probably thought I was shitting you, but you can stay with me in Honey Creek, too. I have a whole house to myself.”
“Nathaniel,” I scolded. “That’s a terrible idea.”
“Why is that a terrible idea? It’s a whole house. You won’t even see me if you don’t want to. Or we could go over stats for our players and all the baseball stuff. Or, again, you can not see me at all. Whatever you need, I got you.”
“It’s a terrible idea because, well, I hate you, remember?”
Oh, the lies I told out loud.
He smiled the smile that made me want to blush. “I know, and I love your hate, but I want to make sure you have somewhere to land while you figure everything out.”
“I can get an apartment.”
“You shouldn’t be alone.”
“I’ll be fine alone.”
His stirring stopped, and he set the bowl down on the counter. He walked over to me, pulled his coffee table closer to the couch, and took a seat. His brown eyes locked in on mine, and he shook his head. “You shouldn’t be alone, Ave.”
A nervous chuckle escaped my lips. “Why would you be concerned with…” The pieces started collecting in my head as to why he was so deeply concerned with me being alone and why he had slept outside my door last night. I started to recall the conversation the night prior, and a pit of nervousness slammed straight into my stomach.
I took a deep inhale and released it slowly as I started fidgeting with my hands. I stared down at them because looking into his eyes felt too intense.
“Listen, Nathan, I was drunk last night.”
“Drunk people tell the truth.”
“Yeah, but they don’t mean to. You don’t have to worry about me. I’ll be fine. I’m always fine.”
“You’re not always fine.”
Yes, you’re right.
I shrugged. “But I’m a good actress.”
“Not with me, Coach. I see you.”
“I know,” I whispered, tugging on the sleeves of his sweatshirt. “I always hated that you could see me.”
“I kind of loved it myself.” He clasped his hands together and tapped his feet against his living room rug. “I’m worried about you.”
“Don’t be.”
“Can’t help it.”
“Why not?”
“Because I care.”
“Well, stop caring, Nathan. Seriously. This is ridiculous. You’re my coworker, not my friend.”
“We could be friends, though,” he offered. “And roommates.”
“Nathan.”
“Avery.”
“Why are you pushing this?” I questioned. “Why are you being so damn pushy about this topic?”
His shoulders rolled back, and the corner of his mouth twitched. There was a heaviness in his stare that made me want to know his thoughts. What it was that was eating at him so much.
“You said you were extremely sad, Ave. That scares me.”
“Nath—”
“Mickey Ray Phillips.” He cut in. “Did you know him?”
I tilted my head and nodded. “Yeah, of course, I knew him. He was one of the best baseball players in the world. Wasn’t he your…?”
“Teammate, yeah. And one of my best friends.”
My stomach knotted up, knowing where this was going. Mickey Ray was one of the best Major League Baseball players of our time. He was one of the happiest-seeming individuals out there, too. I remembered when the news came out of his passing. It was shocking to hear that he took his own life. Nothing about Mickey Ray seemed to point to him being the type of person who would’ve taken his own life. Then again, what type of person took their own life? It was all types, all people, all levels of success.
Still, it stunned me.
I’d be lying if I said I didn’t follow Nathan’s career. He was one of my favorite players even though I hated him. I could never hate his talent. Studying how he and Mickey played was like studying the greats. It was clear that when those two were on the field together, they jived extremely well. Though I didn’t know they were best friends. I’d only known what I saw on the television screen and during press conferences.
“I’m so sorry, Nathan,” I expressed, placing a hand on his shaky leg.
He smiled, but it wasn’t his normal, happy grin. It dripped in sadness.