have parents that let you down, Wyatt. I’m on your side.”
I swallowed the anger that bubbled up again. How could some people be so heartless? To leave your wife and little daughter? It was unforgivable.
I clenched my jaw trying to get a hold of my emotions. When I opened my mouth to respond, I surprised myself with my honesty. “Sometimes I wish my dad would just leave.”
“Why?”
“It would be easier than hoping he might change. He’s never around. He and my mother basically live separate lives already. And honestly, it’s easier that way. When he shows up, he expects us to drop everything and do what he wants, like his life is so much more important than anything else we could have going on.”
I exhaled and scrubbed a hand over my face in frustration. “Do you know he never even came to see me play this year? It’s my senior year and my dad never bothered to make time to see me play baseball.” I stared down at my throbbing foot. “And now he can’t.”
I shook my head, upset that I still let him disappoint me after all this time.
Layne reached over and threaded her fingers through mine. “Your dad’s an idiot.”
I huffed a laugh. “Thanks.”
“But,” she added. “Don’t make the world suffer for one blind man’s mistakes.”
This time I laughed for real. “I’m gonna stop sharing my wisdom if you’re just going to use it against me.”
We both laughed and fell into a comfortable silence, our shoulders resting easily together as we leaned against my headboard staring at the stars outside my large picture window.
“I’m sorry,” Layne said interrupting the silence. “About your ankle. I don’t think I’ve said that before.”
I refastened my boot and leaned back against the headboard, turning to face her.
“What do you have to be sorry for? It’s not your fault.”
“I know. It’s not that. I guess, I just know it’s awful to lose something you love. If I lost music, I don’t know what I’d do.”
I shook my head. “I don’t love baseball.”
“But I heard your mom say you’ve played for a long time.”
I shrugged. “I have. But it was just something to do.”
Layne scooted closer, moving her hand to my arm. “Still, I’m sorry that you can’t play anymore. I know how hard it is when choices in life are made for us.”
I leaned my head back and closed my eyes, trying to push back the emotions her words stirred. Because she was right. That was the part that sucked about all of this. My injury had taken baseball away, and it was the straw that finally broke the camel’s back.
So much of my life was out of my control; where we lived, how much time my parents spent with me, even this competition. My eyes opened and my head snapped up. I looked at Layne, suddenly wondering if that’s what she meant.
Lola getting mono had forced Layne to lose her partner, then my mother had basically forced me on Layne as a replacement. My heart sank. I didn’t want to be one more choice Layne didn’t get to make. But even more than that, I didn’t want Layne’s pity.
I was about to open my mouth to say so when she surprised me by threading her fingers through mine again, her dark eyes full of a kindness I wasn’t used to.
“I know singing together may not have been our first choice,” she said, “But I’m glad it happened.”
I watched her bite her lip as if deciding to say more. I prayed she would because I liked the way the tiny tremble in her touch made my pulse race.
“I’m really, really glad it happened,” she added, tipping her face up to lightly kiss my cheek.
The gesture was so intimate and kind I sat frozen in my spot.
Layne was talking about us, but not in the way I expected.
She was actually grateful we’d been forced together!
My heart pounded in my temples. I wasn’t sure how I felt about that. Well, that was a lie. I knew exactly how I felt. I just wasn’t supposed to feel that way.
But as I stared at her perfect heart-shaped lips wanting nothing more than to taste them again, I forgot all about the rules. I wanted to live in this moment and pull her into my arms, kissing her until nothing else mattered. Because that’s how she made me feel when she looked at me like she was now—like I was the only person in the world.
I don’t think