The Way We Play (Bradford Boys #2)

Chapter 11

11

Zane

Jack

Edward said you kissed Rachel.

Garrett

What?

Logan

And now she’s avoiding you.

Garrett

What???

Edward saw us?

I glance over to where he’s sitting on the deck reading The Outsiders . A black kitten is playing with the string of his hoodie, and it falls back with a little thump before jumping up again.

Garrett

The hell? You kissed Rachel and she’s avoiding you? Did you forget how?

Hendrix

Kissing is like riding a bike.

Garrett

Did you give her the stabby tongue? The stiff lip? Slobber all over her?

Hendrix

Burp in her mouth? I almost did that once.

Garrett

Dude.

I know how to kiss a woman.

Garrett

Did you have bad breath?

Hendrix

Fart?

Grow up.

Hendrix

Sometimes it can’t be stopped.

Garrett

Why is she avoiding you?

She’s not avoiding me.

Jack

She drove my truck to work the past two days.

Garrett

We are never going to get you laid.

Hendrix

Bruh, one time I kissed a girl and she started to cry. Turns out her cat had just died, and it had nothing to do with me.

Garrett

Keep telling yourself that story.

Hendrix

She showed me a picture!

Garrett

I’d cry if I kissed you, Mr. Burpie-Fartybutt

Hendrix

I didn’t do any of that with her, and my point is, it might not be him.

Garrett

She’s right across the hall. Ask for a do-over.

Logan

It’s only fair. You had to listen to Dylan and me kissing.

You did more than kiss, and her brother’s in the house.

Logan

Want us to take him for a long drive?

No.

Logan

He can go with us to spend the night at Miss Gina’s!

Jack

He can come here and stay with Kimmie and me. It would really improve your disposition if you got laid.

Traitor.

Garrett

Do you remember how sex works? Need me to draw you a diagram?

It’s been two days since I kissed Rachel in the library, and ever since, she’s been avoiding me like the jerk I am.

Miss Gina hasn’t said a word about it, but I saw Rachel’s face before she left that day. I saw her red eyes, and I heard the wobble in her voice. It was a kick in the stomach.

It was only a kiss —and I’m full of shit. That kiss was epic. It was more than I bargained for when she said she’d never done it. I guess that’s what they call chemistry.

All I know is I felt myself falling, and I ran.

I honestly thought Edward was oblivious. We’ve been riding together every day, and he hasn’t said a word.

He’s getting more skilled at working with the horses, and he seems happy. I hadn’t seen any signs of negative behavior, no anger or aggression.

Rachel said he’d gotten in a fight at school, but I’m even more inclined to think he was provoked after spending all this time with him. Now I wonder what he’s thinking. Did he see her start to cry?

“How old is Shiloh?” Edward sits in the passenger’s side of the Jeep with his hood over his head as we drive to Miss Gina’s.

I scratch my thumb under my bottom lip as I think. “Gloria started the farm when I was in high school, almost twenty years ago. Thoroughbreds only race four or five years.”

“The average lifespan of a thoroughbred horse is twenty-five to thirty years.” His brow furrows. “Due to inbreeding, their life expectancy can be even shorter.”

“Gloria has a vet check all the horses every year. I’m sure if there was a problem, he’d have noticed it by now.”

“What was the reason Shiloh was retired from racing?”

“Don’t know.”

“We should talk to Gloria about this.”

I reach over and pat his shoulder. “Shiloh’s in pretty good shape. I don’t expect he’s going anywhere for a while.”

“It’s impossible to know what will happen in the future.”

Hell, if anybody knows that lesson, it’s our family. Glancing at him sitting straight in the seat, I think about the changes he’s had to deal with in his short life. He lost his mom, but I heard Rachel telling Miss Gina he never really knew her.

“Has your sister said anything to you about school?”

His lips tighten, and he nods. “I’m starting at the 7-12 school in January.”

“How do you feel about that?”

He shrugs. “Research is mixed on the value of separate middle schools. Many school districts are abandoning the practice entirely.”

Not what I meant.

“I went to school here in Newhope.” He looks over at me briefly, curious. “When I was there the kids were generally welcoming to newcomers.”

“It’s a primal facet of human nature to be wary of strangers.”

“The good news is they won’t be all strangers. Austin will be there, and Allie is the librarian. Dylan teaches dance.”

His eyes lower. “I never had friends at school. I’d usually read a book or sit by myself at lunch and recess.”

“Things might be different for you here.” We pull into the circular drive, and I park the Jeep beside Jack’s red truck. “You can always hang out in the library if you just want to read. Allie won’t mind.”

He nods before climbing out. “She’s nice.”

“Yep, she is.” I reach behind my seat to grab my tools and the bag of supplies I bought to fix the sink yesterday evening. “Did Gloria tell you about the pool tournament she’s planning?”

He nods. “I can’t participate.”

“How come?” Our shoes crunch on gravel as we walk up to the house.

“I don’t know how to play pool.”

“Tell you what, next time we’re at the restaurant, I’ll grab Austin, and we can teach you. Sound good?”

“I’ll read up on it.”

Exhaling a laugh, I expect that means he’ll be a pool shark by the time we have our first lesson.

We go through the gate leading to the back patio, and my stomach warms when I hear the sound of Rachel’s voice. “Balsam trees smell really good. You’ll love a balsam.”

I venture a peek, and I see Miss Gina lying face-down on the massage table. Rachel is sliding her forearms up the old lady’s back, which is bare to the waist.

Heat lamps are above them, and Rachel is dressed in short-sleeved beige scrubs. Her hair is twisted up in those two little space buns on the top of her head, and she looks fucking adorable.

Adorable? Seriously ?

“How big is a balsam tree?” Miss Gina’s voice is thoughtful.

“I imagine they come in all sizes.” Rachel’s brow furrows over her downcast eyes. “We can call around and see who has the biggest.”

“A balsam can grow from forty to sixty feet in height.” Edward walks over to where they’re working, and Rachel jumps at the sound of his voice.

Some kind of atmospheric flute music is playing. It’s more noticeable the closer I get, and the smile disappears from her glossy pink lips as soon as she sees me.

She quickly slides a thin sheet over Miss Gina’s back before returning to her massage. Miss Gina lets out a loud “Oooh!” and Rachel jumps again.

“I’m sorry!” Her green eyes widen, and she lifts her hands quickly. “Was that too deep?”

“A little.” Miss Gina exhales a wobbly laugh. “My shoulders are sore from those water weights.”

“I’m so sorry.” Rachel slides her palms rapidly over the spot. “Better?”

“Much.” She lifts her head slightly. “Zane, you have to let Rachel work on your back. I’m telling you, she has magic hands. I’ve never felt so relaxed.”

Busted . How did she know I was here? I guess Edward gave us away.

Rachel answers without even looking at me. “I’m sure Zane Bradford will be just fine without my help.”

“Oh…” Miss Gina lowers her head. “So we’re back to that again?”

“I don’t know what you mean.” Rachel takes a plush robe off a chair and drapes it over the woman’s back. “Take your time sitting up. I’ll help you off the table.”

Miss Gina slides her arms into the robe, rising slowly with her back to us before she stands and ties the belt.

“I heard about a type of massage where one person slides their body all over the other person’s. Have you heard of that, Rachel?”

She holds Miss Gina’s arm, looking stern. “That’s called Nuru massage, and it’s not a service I provide.”

“It sounds X-rated if you ask me.” Miss Gina elbows her side, lowering her voice. “You might learn it in case you meet someone you want to know better.”

I glance over to where they’re slowly making their way from the massage platform to the house. Rachel’s eyes clash with mine, and her face blazes bright red.

She blinks away quickly. “I have no interest in getting to know anyone better. I am interested in getting you changed so we’re not late to your hair appointment. Then we’re going Christmas tree shopping, remember?”

“Yes,” Miss Gina fusses back playfully. “I don’t know why you’re announcing it for the whole world to hear like we’re on the TV or something.”

“Because it sounds like you lost track of your schedule.” Rachel’s voice is a quiet scold. “How do you even know about Nuru massage?”

“I might be blind, but I’m not deaf.” Miss Gina waves her hand. “I know about things.”

“You’re being a pot-stirrer.”

“Zane?” The old lady pauses at the patio door.

“Yes, ma’am?” I walk over to where she’s staring in my direction while Rachel is looking everywhere but at me.

“The elevator is making a funny noise again. Would you take a look at it, please?”

“I’ll look at it again, but I don’t know much about elevators.” I glance up at the old place. “Who inspects it?”

“Stephen took care of all of that.” She presses her lips together. “Maybe you can track down a receipt?”

More like I’ll track down her old gardener. “I’ll see what I can do.”

“Thank you, dear.”

The two of them disappear into the house, and I glance over to where Edward is sitting in a chair reading again. Shaking my head, I scoop up my abandoned supplies and return to working on the greenhouse sink.

An hour later, I’m twisted around doing my best to repair this alone, when Edward ventures into the room.

He stands for a few minutes listening to me grunt, before he says, “Do you need help?”

My back is in knots, and I slide out, wondering why I’ve had my brains in my back pocket. “Yeah, are you free right now? ”

“I’m always free.” He pushes his long, blond bangs behind his ear studying me curiously.

Because he’s only twelve and generally quiet, I tend to forget how smart he is.

“See this?” I show him the rack of handles and curved faucet. “Hold it straight while I tighten the screws.”

He nods, and I crawl under the sink again, moving much quicker now that I have an extra pair of hands to hold things steady.

I’ve just tightened the screws, and I’m testing for leaks as he watches. “How do you know how to do this? Did you watch YouTube?”

“No.” I exhale a laugh, as I move to my knees. “Don’t get me wrong, you can learn a lot on YouTube.”

“I learned to change the battery in Gran’s key fob on YouTube.”

“That’s good.” I stack my tools in the bag. “My dad was always handy, and he showed Jack and me a lot of his old tricks.”

My thoughts drift briefly to the satisfaction on my dad’s face when he’d complete a small job. I smile, feeling the same sense of accomplishment—this drain is repaired.

“I don’t know much about my dad.” Edward looks down, and I grab a towel to clean the rubber adhesive off my hands.

His dad isn’t someone he needs to know, but it’s not my place to make that call. “Rachel can talk to you about him.”

“You’re in love with her.” He says it flatly, catching me off guard.

“What?”

“I saw you kissing her.” He shrugs. “I’m almost thirteen. I notice things.”

My chest tightens, and he’s got me stumped again. “What have you noticed?”

“She watches you a lot.” He frowns, looking up as if he’s sorting through a catalog of facts in his brain, trying to find the best ones to make his case. “You watch her a lot, too, but she looks away fast when your eyes meet. Then her face turns all red, and she starts talking too fast. Or massaging Miss Gina too hard.”

I swallow a chuckle. That happened.

“How would you feel about your sister having a boyfriend?”

Not that it would be me, of course. I’m simply curious about what he would say.

“Rachel has always taken care of me.” He says it like he’s repeating what someone told him, and from what Rachel has said, I expect it was his grandmother. “It’s time for her to live her own life.”

Walking over, I sit beside him on the deck. “How does that make you feel?”

A tuxedo kitten hops out, holding its little paws up like it’ll attack us. Edward reaches over and scoops it up like a giant. They Might Be Giants .

He slides his hand down the kitten’s head, and the tiny cat submits at once, lowering its ears and snuggling closer to his chest. “It feels like she wants her own family—not a little brother family.”

I look down, studying my dirty hands. “Your sister loves you very much. She wants what’s best for you all the time, because you’ll always be her family.”

He pets the black-and-white kitten some more. “You’re in love with her.”

Clearing my throat, I scrub a hand over my forehead. “I barely know her. It’s too soon for anyone to be talking about love.”

One side of his nose curls, and he looks up at me. “Mothers say they love their babies the moment they see them.”

“That’s a little different. Mothers have carried the baby inside their bodies for nine months, and it’s their mother.”

“My mother didn’t feel that way about me.” He says it without emotion, and I am so not prepared for this conversation.

Not any part of it.

I don’t like this tightness in my chest or the thought his mother never wanted him.

“I think your sister is smart and pretty. I like her, and I like you, too. I can’t speak for mothers—that’s something I’ll never be, but if yours had gotten to know you, I bet she’d think you’re a pretty great kid.”

His brow furrows, and he continues stroking the small cat. “I’d like you to be with my sister. You’re good.”

“Well, thanks.” Shaking my head, I walk over to collect my stuff. “Let’s head back to the house.”

It’s after ten when I finish watching the game with Jack and walk back to our house. Logan was at the station providing commentary, and Edward and Rachel left hours ago. I hope they’ve had enough time to be asleep when I arrive.

My conversation with Edward has been humming in the back of my mind all evening. I think about the few times I’ve found myself really committed to something.

I think about my little sister Dylan who I loved in a brotherly way. I did my best to take care of her, to protect her, to make sure she had everything she needed.

I went to her dance recitals. I was there when she bought her first pair of pointe shoes. I sat in the chair while the lady helped her tie them around her ankles, and I remember the gleam in her eyes when she went up en pointe for the first time.

She was perfect. She was skilled and strong and dedicated, and when she danced, it was really beautiful. It was art.

And I broke it.

I remember my days as a kicker. I remember Dad working with me in the evenings, holding the ball and giving me pointers. He would beam with pride saying how I never missed. I hit the same spot every time, and the ball would shoot straight and far.

I remember being the first-round draft pick for the Admirals, their starting kicker. Any time the game was on the line, I’d walk out confidently and seal the win. Every time—until the last time.

The funny thing about being a football star. I thought I didn’t care about it. I told myself I only did it because I didn’t have anything better to do. It was what Jack did and Garrett did and Hendrix did… It was what Dad told me to do.

I told myself it wasn’t part of me. I had other interests—reading, horses, working with my hands.

But when that day came, lying in that hospital bed and listening to the doctor say I’d never play again, I realized I’d been lying. I’d been committed. I’d loved it.

It meant more to me than anything, and it was gone.

The kitchen is quiet as I fill an insulated cup with water before starting up the stairs. These thoughts are heavy on my shoulders, aching in my back. I have every intention of brushing my teeth and trying to sleep, when I see the light shining under her door.

Now I’m standing in the hall, staring at that shaft of light, and all I can think about is what a fucking liar I am.

Lifting my hand, I knock softly on the wooden barrier. A rustling sound comes from inside the room, and it takes a few seconds, long enough for me to wonder if she’ll do it, before she opens the door a crack and looks up at me.

A thin, twisted towel is on top of her head, and her green eyes are not smiling. “What do you want?” she whispers.

“Can I talk to you for a second?” My voice is quiet as well. I don’t want to wake Edward.

She moves away from the door, walking farther into the room, and I step inside, closing it behind me .

Turning to face me, she crosses her arms over the thin shirt, and I can tell she’s not wearing a bra. Her cheeks are scrubbed pink, and she’s in soft sweatpants. She looks cozy and ready for bed, and I want to pull her to me and run my nose along her cheek and kiss her again.

Clearing the heat from my throat, I fumble for a boner-killer. “I fixed the leak in the greenhouse. The hardware was all dry-rotted and crusted, so I just replaced everything.”

She nods. “No more accidental drownings?”

Exhaling a laugh, I remember her dumping an entire bowl of water on my head. “In retrospect, that was pretty funny.”

“It was an accident.” Her tone is a touch defensive. “The bowl slipped out of my hand.”

“I’m sorry.”

It feels so good to finally say it, like a weight has lifted off my chest.

I should’ve said it two days ago.

“You didn’t do it.” She shakes her head, turning away from me. “I’m the klutz?—”

“No, I’m sorry about what I said after… I was a jerk, and I hate that I screwed up the memory of your first kiss.”

Her body stills. Her back is to me, and she reaches up to loosen the turban on her head. Long, blonde hair falls down her back in nearly dry waves, and I catch the soft scent of honeysuckle. I watch her fold the towel in her hands, slowly rolling it into a ball.

“It was only a kiss.” Her voice is quiet.

“It was more than that.” I’m less quiet. “And I’m sorry I ruined it for you.”

She still doesn’t face me. She continues rolling the thin turban until she finally turns around and slams it with a muted thump on her desk.

“Stop it.” Fire simmers in her green eyes, and I take a step back.

“What? ”

“I’ve had it with your emotional roller-coaster. First you act jealous because Sam’s talking to me…”

“I wasn’t jealous?—”

“Then you kiss my face off in the library.” She shakes her head, holding out her arm. “Hell, you practically dry-humped me against the women’s fiction section, then you say it’s nothing.”

“I didn’t?—”

“Now you’re here, telling me this.” Her eyes are back on mine, and the heat in them burns my stomach. “I’ve watched you be nice to everyone—Kimmie, Dylan, Thomas, Edward… Why do you only want to hurt me?”

“I don’t?—”

“Is it because of my dad? Because I’m nothing like him if you cared to look. I can’t change what he did, and I’m not going to be ashamed I survived. I escaped that house.”

She’s so beautiful. Her cheeks are flushed, and her chin is lifted. I love her fight. I love the energy flashing in her eyes. She’s a force.

You’re in love with her … I can’t let that idea take hold.

“I have my reasons, Rachel.”

“Give me one.”

My stomach clenches, and I won’t lie to her. At the same time, she’s asking for answers I’ve never said out loud, not in all the times I’ve been asked.

“You just have to trust me.”

“What does that mean?” She blinks rapidly. “You have reasons to be nice to everyone but me?”

I slide my hand over my aching neck. “That’s not what I meant.”

Confusion lines her expression, and I know what I’m saying doesn’t make sense. It only makes sense when you’ve lived it. When you’ve seen me break everything I cared about again and again.

“Tell me what you mean.” She steps closer to me .

“It’s late, and I’m tired.” I turn stiffly for the door. “I just wanted to say I’m sorry. I wish I’d handled it better.”

She reaches out to put her hand on mine, to stop me. “I can help you with your pain. I’ll set up the table in the morning, and you’re going to let me.”

“Rachel…” Her name on my tongue is like a soothing balm.

“Don’t argue.” She moves her hand to my wrist then higher, lightly touching the edge of the tattoo peeking from beneath my shirtsleeve. “It’s okay to stop fighting for a little while.”

Her touch feels so good, and it’s late. It would be so easy to give in to her. Instead, I leave her room before I forget I’m not going to kiss her again.