Play On - Michelle Smith Page 0,48
when you find those people, you hold on to them for dear life. That’s why I still hold on to your daddy, and that’s why I make sure you get time with your friends. With Marisa.”
Oh.
“The way your daddy left this earth was horrible,” she says. “I don’t understand why, and I know you don’t either. But don’t you dare, for one second, speak ill of him now that he’s gone. Maybe you should think about the years he spent teaching you how to throw a ball. Think about every single one of those games he showed up to since you started T-ball. Think about how that man used to be your idol. Think about how you were his everything.”
My throat tightens. I can’t think about those things. I can’t, because they’d reduce me to a pathetic, sobbing mess. And I clearly wasn’t his everything, considering I wasn’t enough for him to stick around.
“Do you hear me?” she asks.
Say something. Say anything. “I—”
“I said, do you hear me?”
I nod once. “Yes, ma’am.”
She gets out of the truck without another word, not that there’s anything left to say. I bang my head on the steering wheel. There’s no way in hell I’m going into that house for a while. I’d rather take my chances in hell, actually. Satan would be more welcoming.
I pull my phone out of the pocket of my khakis and scroll through until I find Marisa’s number.
Need to go somewhere. Wanna drive with me? Flopping back against my seat, I hit Send and wait.
Friday night was amazing. Marisa was amazing. Everything about the night was straight out of a dream or something. I never thought a kiss could be so flawless, so perfect, so damn addicting, but she went beyond proving me wrong.
My phone lights up. Marisa: Dad says no bc we’re going to church tonight.
Dang it, it’s not even four o’clock yet. This day will never end if I don’t have something to do. How about the batting cages? Even bring the guys if it makes him feel better. Be done by church time. While I wait for her to answer, I send out a text to Jay, Brett, and Eric, telling them to get to The Strike Zone. I don’t even need a reply from them; those three have never turned down an invite to the cages. And I’m going whether or not Marisa does. Smacking the hell out of a ball is better than therapy.
Right as I hit Send to them, her message comes in. Sure. Meet u there.
What? Uh-uh. I’ll pick u up, I type back quickly.
Marisa: Already in town with parents. They’ll take me. =)
Oh. Okay, then. I back out of my driveway and head across town, which is quiet thanks to it being Sunday. There are only three cars in the parking lot at The Strike Zone, one of them belonging to Marisa’s parents. She hops out of their car right as I park.
“You can drive me to church, right?” she asks while I step out of the truck.
Uh, yeah. Duh. Her mom’s window is down, so I call out, “I’ll get her there, Mrs. Marlowe. No worries.”
Her mom smiles, and Dr. Marlowe leans across her to say, “Not too late.”
Backing away from their car, Marisa waves. “I’ll be fine. Bye, guys.”
As they pull out of the lot, Marisa walks over to me, all smiles in her bright green dress and jean jacket. “We were eating at Baker’s Grill when you texted. You have good timing.” She slides her hands into mine and leans up to kiss me. Yep. Still perfect. “Are your friends coming, or—?”
“They’re coming. Just takin’ their sweet time.” I search the parking lot and look out to the road, but there’s still no sign of them. “You want to wait out here, inside, or in the truck?”
She looks past me to my truck. “Definitely the truck.”
Pursing my lips, I nod. “Well, well, well. Looks like we may have a country girl convert.”
She holds up her hands. “I’m not saying that. I’m just saying that you were right: I do dig the truck.” She climbs up into the passenger seat while I circle around to my side. “And you’re sure your friends won’t mind that I’m here?” she asks as I close my door.
Yeah, right. They might like her more than they like me. “Trust me. But maybe this’ll help.” I reach into the backseat, feeling around the floorboard until I grab my USC hoodie. “Here,” I say, handing