Third Base (The Boys of Summer Book 1)(65)

“Daisy?” I knock quietly and call out her name. I hear faint footsteps, but no there’s no sound of the television coming from her apartment. I can’t imagine John is out with one of his nurses, but who knows? Apparently I’ve been kept in the dark about a lot of stuff so that wouldn’t surprise me.

The deadbolts click and the door is opened as far as the chain will allow it. Daisy doesn’t look at me, instead keeping her eyes to the ground.

“Want to explain yourself?” I ask, my tone harsh and demanding.

Her head moves slowly, until her red-rimmed eyes are steady on mine. She’s been crying and for the life of me I can’t imagine why. It’s not like she was betrayed like I was.

“I’m sorry we couldn’t make it –”

“You’re sorry?” I cut her off, finding it hard to believe anything that comes out of her mouth. For all I know, when she heard the buzzer, she probably thought it was me and started cutting an onion.

“Hey, Robinson, three days,” a stout lady says as she walks by and yells at Daisy. I watch her walk to another apartment and yell the same thing before taking the stairs to the next floor. When I look back at Daisy, she has fresh tears streaming down her face.

“What is she talking about?”

“It’s nothing. What do you want?” she tries to act tough, but her voice is weak and doesn’t scare me.

“Well for starters I want to know where the hell you’ve been and what that lady is talking about.”

Daisy tries to crack a smile, but to no avail.

“Go home, Ethan. Just go home and pretend you never met me.” She tries to close the door, but I put my hand out to stop her. The door falls open, the chain giving way due to the wood being old. I shake my head and wonder who is going to fix that for her.

“What’s going on?”

She shakes her head. “Nothing, please go.”

“Where’s your grandpa? I want to talk to him.” I invite myself in, sidestepping her small frame and dropping my bags by the door. When I step into the small living room, he’s not there and there are a bunch of boxes stacked against the wall.

“You’re moving?” I ask her, or maybe the wall. It doesn’t matter because the question is rhetorical. “Why?” I ask, turning to face her. “And where’s John?”

When she doesn’t answer me, I go to her. As much as it pains me to admit this, I love this girl even though I don’t trust her. Her hand attempts to move a piece of paper out of my line of sight, but I’m too fast for her. I pick it up and read it and in an instant my heart is sitting in my stomach.

“When?” I ask, unable to read another word.

“Monday night. I was packing and he wanted to help. I told him to stay in his chair and I’d bring his clothes to him to pick out, but he didn’t listen. He got up and started walking down the hall. I tried to get him to go back to his chair, but he said he was fine so I let him help me pack. I went to the bathroom to grab my stuff and when I came back he was bent over the bed. I called 9-1-1, but he was already gone.”

I pull her into my arms without hesitation and let my own tears fall. She’s left with no one. John was it for her and even though she knew he wouldn’t be around forever, I think she thought it’d be longer than it was.

“Daisy, I’m so sorry.”

She steps out of my grasp and wipes her tears, but I don’t bother to wipe mine. She needs to see that I care about her and her grandfather.

“Can I do anything for you?”

She shakes her head. “Just leave, please.”

“Daisy?” My voice trails off. Her eyes are sharp and to the point.

“Get out. You’ve done enough.” She steps away from me, putting her head down.

Her words shoot me straight through the heart, breaking off what little life I had left. I nod and brush past her, stopping only to pick up my bags and leave. I walk out her door without looking back. If ever there’s a relationship that’s over – it’s this one.

I decide to walk to my house. I’m far too agitated to get in the back of some cab and listen to the guy tell me his theory on why we suck or what I need to do to get better. Everyone is a f*cking coach, player and personal life coach, even when they’re driving cars around for minimum wage.

Cars honk and women pull over asking if I need a ride home. I know I’m going to be on the front page of the paper tomorrow with some jacked up headline about how I can’t afford a car. One thing is for certain, I won’t be on the BoRe Blog because she’s not walking with me so her “source” can’t tell her anything.

As soon as I hit my block, I see a shadow sitting on my steps. For one brief moment, I think its Daisy and she’s here to apologize. Only it can’t be her because she would’ve seen me walking down the street and I highly doubt she can afford a cab right now. The closer I get, the easier it is to make out the features of the other woman I know so well – Sarah.

I pause at the bottom of my steps and look at her. “What are you doing here?” I ask, realizing that I’m more than happy to see her.

She shrugs. “Your mom called, said she thought you could use a friend. I had a break from classes so I thought I’d fly out and spend some time here, maybe look for a job or something.”