When Our Worlds Stand Still (Our Worlds #3)(62)

Finished with his punishment, Rico jogs to the fence and slings his bag over his shoulder. “What’s Coach Grumpy Ass want with you?”

“A scout wants to come watch me pitch, I guess.” I say, as we walk to the car.

Rico doesn’t say anything until we pull in the driveway. “Scouts are a big deal, man.”

“They are,” I answer. “When scouts came in high school, it all started to seem real. And now …”

“The world’s at your fingertips, Graham. Don’t go and fuck it up.” Rico jumps out and runs inside.

For another ten minutes, I sit in the car, thinking about what Coach and Rico said. My phone rings, and I reach behind me to fish it out of my bag. My mom’s name is on the screen. Not able to ignore it, I accept as I get out of the car and head inside.

“Hey, honey,” she says.

“Hey, Mom. What’s up?”

“In what world don’t you call to tell me you and Kennedy are back together?” she hollers.

I hear a familiar clink. “Mom, are you having a glass of wine?”

“Don’t lecture me. I’m your mother.” I hear her swallow what I assume is her normal white wine. “Regina, you know, Kennedy’s mother, and I are hanging out.”

“Hi, Graham,” Mrs. Conrad shouts.

“Tell her I say hi, and thanks for letting the cat out of the bag.”

“There shouldn’t be a cat in the bag. I’m your mother. I have every right to know when you and that sweet, beautiful girl get back together. It’s about damn time, is all I’m going to say about the matter,” she rambles. “Now, when’s the wedding?” She carries on a conversation with Mrs. Conrad as if I’m not listening.

“I’m hanging up now. I’ll talk to you later, Mom.” I groan.

“Oh, right. Well, I love you.” I hear the smile in her voice as she says goodbye.

Since they met, those two have been inseparable. Even through the drama and fall out, those two stand strong, continuing to believe in Kennedy and me. Mrs. Conrad has a way of uplifting anyone’s spirits.

Taking the stairs two at a time, I hustle to my room. When I push through the door, Ashlee is on my bed, her head resting on the pillow, masking the remnants of Kennedy’s soft scent. I yank the pillow out from under her and toss it across the room.

“I can’t deal with this shit right now.” I groan my disapproval.

“Don’t be like that,” Ashlee whines, propping up on her hands. Her chest pops out, and the broad smile on her face tells me she’s up to no good. “I’ve missed you.”

“Ashlee, there’s nothing to miss. What’re you even doing here? Who let you in?” I toss my phone on the bedside table and walk to the bathroom. “You better be gone when I come back out,” I yell through the closed door.

With the water from the shower running, I almost miss her tap on the door. She tiptoes in as I peek out the curtain.

“Seriously, Ashlee, take a hint,” I yell.

“I was just coming to tell you I’m sorry for intruding, and it won’t happen again.” Her hands go up in protest.

“Thank you.” Once I hear the door click, I finish my shower.

Ashlee can’t be called anything but persistent. The girl doesn’t quit when she puts her mind to something. Unfortunately for me, I’m her something these days. Sandy warned me Ashlee didn’t take rejection well, but I never expected it to this extent. Almost every day, I receive a text or picture in an attempt to lure me to her bed. To say the least, it makes me uncomfortable, and her dismissal of Kennedy grates on my last nerve. Although she’s kept her cool for this long, if Ashlee’s behavior goes on any longer, I’m not sure how Kennedy will react. I don’t think I want to be there to witness it unfold.

A twist of the knob heats the water to a scalding temperature. The stream beats down on my muscles, relaxing the strain from today’s practice. I stretch my neck from side to side, shutting my eyes. My mind wanders to Kennedy, to the first time I saw her dance in the city.

My eyes adjust to the darkness as I sneak into the auditorium. Faint noise comes from the stage as I take a seat in the back row, hidden from my reason for being in New York.

Kennedy.

I’m desperate to reach out, to shout her name at the top of my lungs. Instead, I listen as the audience falls in love with her, and I fall in love with her all over again.

The long, white top hangs off one shoulder, giving me a glimpse of her lacy bra. Long, bare legs make my hand itch to touch her. With her head bowed, she exudes confidence. Kennedy waits for her cue from the music.

A haunting melody erases the silence, and her head comes up. The fierce, unmoving way she scans her eyes over the crowd bewilders me. She doesn’t expect me to be here, but I imagine she’s searching for me.

Her toes sweep over the wood beneath them, and her arms and legs extend to great lengths. She floats on air. The beauty of her movement takes me to a time where she was mine. As the song reaches the climax, she beats and rips at her chest. The pain is palpable.

Unraveled and overwhelmed with what she has shared with us all, I race out the door the moment the music fades.

*****

“What’s going on tonight?” Rico asks.

“Not a damn thing.” I open the fridge, fussing with my wet hair. Turkey and cheese in hand, I go to the center island and make a sandwich. Rico stares at me the whole time. “Do you need something?”