Something to Talk About(58)

“Oh yes,” she said. “I’m sure it’s very tough for you to have a famous sister with whom you don’t share a last name. Her fame is probably worse for you than it is for her, who has paparazzi ruminate about her sex life. It sounds really hard for you.”

Avery burst out laughing, and Vincent promptly shut his mouth. Jo bit down on her grin.

“Thank God,” she said. “I don’t usually have anyone on my side here.”

“Siblings are the worst,” Emma said, as though her sister weren’t her best friend.

Vincent would probably have argued his case, but it was Ethan’s turn at bat.

Ethan already had a double, for which Jo’s whole row had stomped their feet against the bleachers beneath them. He didn’t look over before he got in the batter’s box. He used to—when he was younger he always sought out his family in the crowd for reassurance before he went up to swing. Jo could hardly believe how fast he was growing up. She still had a flutter of nerves every time he was up.

The first pitch was a ball.

Vincent clapped. “Good eye!”

The next pitch was wild as soon as it was out of the pitcher’s hand. It hit Ethan right in the wrist. Jo’s heart jumped to her throat. She wanted to leap to her feet and yell at the pitcher. They were only kids, it wasn’t intentional, but the ball hit her nephew in the wrist and he was crouched down, head between his knees, holding the injured arm to his chest. Vincent and Sally were both tense beside her.

Jo clutched the edge of the bleacher as the coach took a look at Ethan’s arm. He was moving it, but he was also crying, Jo could tell from the stands. Jo had broken her arm as a kid; she still remembered that sharp, agonizing pain when she landed wrong in the middle of trying a gymnastics routine she was obviously not talented enough for. She was ready to throw Ethan in the back seat of her car and speed to a hospital.

Emma’s hand came down, not quite on top of Jo’s, but right next to it. Her pinkie hooked over Jo’s. Jo looked at their hands, looked at Emma.

“He’s okay,” Emma told her. “Look at him, so tough—he’s not even coming out of the game.”

Emma removed her hand to clap as Ethan jogged toward first base. Jo and the rest of the parents joined in the applause. She shared a relieved look with Sally.



* * *



—

The team won, which was a nice way to end the season even if they were too far back in the league to make the playoffs. Everyone went to ice cream afterward, Emma squished into Avery’s back seat with the twins for the ride.

Ethan’s wrist was a little swollen, but he wasn’t much worse for wear. Still, Jo ruffled his hair.

“A banana split for the injured hero,” she suggested.

Ethan beamed at her. His parents did not. She didn’t care at all. He deserved as much ice cream as he wanted.

She didn’t order anything for herself, knowing she’d be able to polish off what was left of Ethan’s.

She sat on the edge of a picnic table bench, and the others joined her as they got their ice cream. Emma climbed onto the middle of the bench at first, but when Dani and Ezra followed suit, she slid toward the edge, right up against Jo. She gave her a smile of apology but didn’t move away. Jo shifted, just a little, just enough to give them both some more room for their upper bodies. Their hips and thighs were still pressed tight together.

No one gave them a second glance. Not even Avery smirked at her. Ethan was at the other end of the bench, half hanging off the edge but not complaining. Then there was Dani, Ezra, and Emma, with Jo on the end. Avery, Vincent, and Sally—with Thomas in her lap—sat on the other side of the table. Dylan stood behind Avery. The rest of the team and their parents were around, too—they took up every last one of the picnic tables at this place. Everyone was loud and laughing and not paying any attention to Emma, crushed into Jo’s side. Emma didn’t seem to mind, either. Perhaps Jo didn’t need to worry about rumors that had already passed, and could just enjoy the evening. She relaxed, her shoulder coming to rest against Emma’s. Emma never even paused in her discussion of the best flurry toppings with the kids.

Ethan hadn’t eaten half of his ice cream when he slid it down the picnic table toward Jo. When it passed Emma, she plucked the one leftover cherry out of the whipped cream and popped it into her mouth. She didn’t look contrite in the least, giving Jo a grin before doing a long lick around the edge of her ice cream. Jo looked at the leftovers of Ethan’s split.

Really, Jo didn’t know how to explain how glad she was that she and Emma were okay. She missed her. There had been a few moments where she thought Emma might just quit, and Jo was so grateful that she hadn’t. She was so grateful that instead they were smiling at each other over ice cream.

After everyone was finished, the kids tired themselves out running around and playing on the ice cream shop’s jungle gym. Players and their families slowly filtered out. Jo drifted in and out of her brother’s conversation with Dylan, when she overheard Emma and Avery arguing.

“I took the bus back to work,” Emma was saying. “You don’t have to take me to the studio, just home. C’mon, Avery.”

Jo cleared her throat. The sisters turned to her.

“I drove you here,” Jo said. “I can drive you home. You’re mostly on my way.”