Out of My League - Sarah Sutton Page 0,19

closet. She still wore her yoga pants and had her hair knotted into a bun. “What are you doing home?”

Mom turned around, the lines by her mouth seeming deeper than normal as she pressed her features into an epic frown. “Have you seen your father today?”

“Not since this morning.” I folded my arms across my chest, bracing myself for whatever her response would be. “Not since he went golfing.”

She folded her hands over her heart, and her eyes were shaded, glassy. “Do you think he left us, Sophia?”

My brow furrowed immediately, and I blinked at the sudden question. “Left us? Why would he have left us, Mom?”

Though not a frequent play in her book, Mom did fret about their separation more than once. Not so much worrying to me directly, but in mutterings that would resonate through the walls and floorboards, or during conversations over the phone with her friends. She was afraid that one day her nagging would send him over the edge.

Today, as she pressed her hand to her lips, I’d never seen her so dejected. “I checked his closet, and it’s missing clothing, Sophia. Do you think he’s grabbed his stuff and left? I know we argued this morning, but you don’t think he’d leave, do you?”

I glanced back down the hallway toward where Shiba sat on the stairs. Her eyes gleamed with sympathy. “I’m sure he hasn’t left us, Mom. He just went to play golf; he does that every Saturday. As for the clothes, maybe he’s just doing laundry.”

Mom’s cell phone in the pocket of her leggings rang, causing her to jump. She fished it out immediately, posture sagging in relief as she looked at the screen. Quickly, she raised it to her ear. “Richard,” she exhaled, lips twitching into an almost-smile. “Yeah, it’s me. Hi. How’s golf?”

Clenching my jaw, I backed out of Mom’s bedroom before I could hear more. When I moved to pass Shiba on my way upstairs, I paused, looking down at her. “Why am I the only sane one?”

Shiba blinked at me, as if replying, “You’re the one speaking to a cat.”

Chapter Six

My bike groaned as I pedaled up the Main Street hill Sunday morning, the sun burning into my back. I was hoping a change in scenery would help this giant block clogging my emotional toilet. Yesterday was so unproductive. I hadn’t left my bedroom all day, and no new information was hiding underneath my pillows.

To get that information, I had to get out of the house and face Walsh Hunter, who I hadn’t seen since the party. A fake couple had to get together sometime.

Or maybe all that was done now and what I’d told Edith was true—this would all fall on the wayside.

I wasn’t sure how to feel about that. Yes, it probably would’ve been for the best, but my future in journalism at the Blade would’ve been nonexistent. Then again, I didn’t know if it was a good idea to place the fate of my journalism career into the hands of Walsh Hunter. Probably not.

As I continued down Main, I rode past the baseball field, spotting bodies moving around the diamond. My sneakers crunched against the gravel as I dragged to a stop, squinting against the sun. A figure in uniform and baseball hat stood at the pitcher’s mound, not seeming too interested in the practice itself. He ran his feet through the dirt while his teammates tossed the ball around them.

When the player lifted his head, I saw that it was Walsh.

His baseball cap was turned around backward, completely ignoring the benefits of wearing it like a normal person.

And as much as I hated to admit it—and I never ever would’ve admitted it aloud—his uniform looked good on him.

Scott stood out on the field too, leaning into a squat. Something inside of me sharpened when I saw him, to the point where drawing in a breath hurt. It didn’t feel much like heartbreak—what was that even supposed to feel like?—but something more like unease.

I tried not to let myself grow angry, but it was hard. All I could remember was how he made me feel at the party. It just felt nerve-wracking to be so close to him after everything that happened not even forty-eight hours ago, to be so public after the whole story from the party had, no doubt, spread like wildfire. Everyone had to know by now.

Focus, Sophia, I told myself sternly, swallowing hard.

I’d shown up at the baseball field at the