Meet Me Halfway(56)
She pulled back, verbally exhaling, like she couldn’t believe he’d actually told her to leave. But Garrett didn’t give a shit. If anything, his gaze grew even harder as he leaned forward. “Now.”
The idiot still looked ready to fight, but Carolyn suddenly shoved into her shoulder, muttering who knows what in her ear. Tristan made sure to shoot me one final condemning look, but she listened, getting up and sashaying away with her nose in the air.
It didn’t matter to me whether she’d left or not. I didn’t want to be there anymore, but the hand around my wrist refused to loosen, tugging me back down to the bleacher.
“I’m sorry, Maddie.”
I twisted toward him so fast, I was surprised I didn’t get whiplash. No one called me Maddie. I’d demanded my family switch to Mads back in middle school because I’d thought Maddie sounded like a kid’s name. So why did it sound like fucking sex on a stick coming from Garrett’s mouth?
“What,” I swallowed, wiping more rogue tears away. “What do you possibly have to apologize for? I’m the one who embarrassed you.”
He slid his hand from my wrist to my palm and clasped his fingers around mine. His eyes were still pulsing with anger as he looked down at my tear-streaked face.
“I should have stopped it before it got that ugly.” He cursed, holding my hand tighter, “I was afraid of saying something to that woman that I couldn’t take back, and even more afraid I’d do something that would fall poorly on you or Jamie with the school.”
I was barely breathing at that point, staring up into his eyes and losing myself in the knowledge he’d felt that way on my behalf. The idea of having someone—especially him—in my corner, was intoxicating.
“What were you afraid you’d do to her?” I whispered.
He leaned down until we were almost sharing breath, “Honestly? I wanted to slap her in the face with my wiener.”
I blinked, speechless, until he slowly raised his free hand. I glanced down to see the still-foiled hot dog, flattened like he’d squeezed the ever-loving hell out of it, and I lost it. I laughed so hard a high-pitched, piglet snort escaped me, and my stomach muscles screamed in protest. And then Garrett’s baritone laughter was joining me.
We sat there, with who knows how many people watching us, dying over the fact that he’d suffocated his wiener trying not to pummel a woman with it.
More tears dripped down my face, and they felt good. With each laughter-induced tear that fell, my lungs expanded farther, and my heart settled. Looking up at this man, each of us fighting to control ourselves, I couldn’t remember the last time I’d laughed hard enough to cry.
We sat shoulder to shoulder, still holding hands while we watched the last quarter of the game. It didn’t feel weird or romantic, just comfortable, and a nagging whisper in the back of my head told me I could get used to it.
“Does she bother you often?”
“No. With my work schedule I can never attend school events, so I rarely see her or any of the other parents. But to answer the follow-up question I’m sure you want to ask, yes, she is always like that when I do. Although, usually she sticks to passive-aggressive comments. I may have poked the embers a bit today.”
“All because she disapproves of your age? Isn’t it a religious school?”
“Yes and no. The age I got pregnant bothers all the parents I’ve met, but it’s that combined with me being, not only single, but single and divorced. It’s a three strikes and you’re out club, so I never even made it through orientation.” I shrugged.
After eight years, I still sometimes struggled to bear people’s judgmental comments, but I also knew I wasn’t missing out by being excluded from their circles. I had no desire to befriend people like that anyway.
“Can I ask you a personal question?”
“You just told me you wanted to wiener whip a lady. I think we’re past the point of needing permission to ask questions.”
He laughed, deep and full, and butterflies took off in every fucking direction, making me lightheaded. “Point taken.” Sobering, he asked, “What made you and Jamie’s father divorce?”
I tensed, my immediate knee-jerk reaction being to jump ship and not answer. But we’d basically just traded imaginary friendship bracelets, so he deserved the truth. I pulled my hand away, trying not to read too much into the way his fingers clenched the empty air.
“My ex-husband, Aaron, the one you met? He’s not Jamie’s dad.”
His eyebrows shot up, not necessarily in shock but rather mild surprise, which I’d expected. He’d already hinted once before that he assumed them to be one and the same.
“When I was sixteen, I dated a guy who was four years older than me. We were together less than a year before we broke up, and then I found out I was nine weeks pregnant. I was seventeen by the time I gave birth. He was twenty-one. In the state of Kansas, I was of legal age to consent, but it obviously didn’t go over well with my family.”
I laughed humorlessly, watching my son chase the ball and successfully steal it from an opponent.
“He’d always been controlling, telling me what to wear, how to act, making me straighten my hair and wear certain makeup. But he got nasty during my pregnancy and started following me around and obsessively calling my phone.” I looked down, distracting myself with pushing back my cuticles.