The Bad Boy Bargain (Suttonville Sentinels #1)(43)

“Is that all?” she asked, the look in her eye knowing enough that he squirmed.

“Yes,” he muttered, looking down at his shoes. “I guess that’s all.”

“Oh, Kyle.” She sighed. “There’s a lot I’d like to say, but I promised I wouldn’t butt in. Thanks again for all your hard work. While you’re fixing the sprinkler, I’ll write you a check.”

His neck grew hot. He hurt her daughter’s feelings, and she was still nice to him—and willing to pay him. This sucked. “Thank you.”

When she opened the garage door, he scurried inside gratefully. Guilt clawed its way up his throat, threatening to gag him. He wished he could explain everything to Faith, but with Cameron on the warpath, the best thing he could do for both of them was stay away. She wouldn’t suffer for being with him, and he wouldn’t have to risk losing everything he’d worked so hard to build.

Part of him wondered, though, if being with Faith was worth the risk. That was selfish thinking, though. There were times he thought she saw right through him, but that didn’t matter. He was bad for her. Too messed up in the head and the heart. She deserved more than he could give her.

Still—maybe Grandpa was right. Maybe he should apologize.

He finished up with the sprinkler and knocked on the front door. Mrs. Gladwell appeared, holding a box and an envelope. “The check,” she announced, holding up the envelope, “and a special thank-you for all the hard work. The yard is perfect for the luncheon.”

“The grass might not be totally rooted by then, so you’ll want to be careful where you set up tables.” He swallowed hard. “Is, uh, is Faith around?”

“Her play director called everyone to an impromptu brunch with the principal players to lay out the details about rehearsals next week. It’s time to start the full cast run-throughs, so he wanted to meet with the stage crew and the principals.”

“Ah. Okay, um…” Now what? “Could you tell her…could you tell her I’m sorry?”

Her smile was kind. “I will. Anything else?”

He shook his head, defeat making his bones ache. “No. That’s all.”

She handed him the box and the check. “It’s been nice working with you, hon. I hope to see you again sometime.”

He doubted it, but he gave her a polite smile. “Thanks. I better run.”

As soon as she closed the door, he jogged to the Toyota, wanting to put distance between himself and this house. In fact, he wanted to put distance between himself and everything his life had become. Frustrated, he drove down to the park where the Little League fields were. There was a trail that wound through the trees around it. He tied his shoes, twisted his torso to stretch his back, and started the timer on his watch.

Without bothering to think about pacing, or distance, or anything really, Kyle took off like he was being chased. Sweat soon stuck his shirt to his back and chest, and his lungs burned, but he didn’t stop. He wanted to run until he forgot. Until he was too tired to think. Practice would be extra hard ahead of Tuesday’s game, but until then, he needed a release. A runner’s high was the only way he thought he could get it.

Grandpa would say he just needed to get laid.

Kyle ran harder, until his breath came in wheezes, before flying into the outfield on one of the Little League fields. He collapsed on the grass and flopped onto his back with his arms over his head. The sky was that pale blue you only saw in spring, and a flock of grackles flew overhead, cawing like the world owed them something. He’d always been so happy here, playing baseball, not worrying about girls, or bullies, or how to hide inside himself for protection. The smell of the grass in the outfield calmed his soul more than anything else.

It wasn’t enough, though. He was sick of the lies, the charade. At some point, he needed to reclaim the happy kid he’d been and ditch the surly, confused guy he was. But how? He couldn’t just…change and expect no one to question it.

He found himself reaching for his phone. Before he realized it, he was texting Cade. Which could end up being futile, as Cade was the lone guy at Suttonville who still called people instead of texting.

K: You there?

It took five minutes before the little dots indicating a return message popped up. He imagined Cade staring at the phone, wondering if he should text back or call.

C: Kyle?

K: No, it’s your Aunt Tilly.

C: Now I know it’s you. What’s up, man?

K: You busy? I need to talk.

C: I’m busy with the musical all weekend, but how about Monday after rehearsal? We get out at seven. You can swing by my house.

The show. That’s right—Cade ran AV for the drama classes. That meant he was with Faith. That hurt, but at least he could ask how she was without being obvious.

K: Yeah, that’ll work. See you then.

His phone rang ten seconds later. “You know what, if you’re texting me, I probably ought to make sure you’re not standing on a bridge looking down or something.”

Kyle laughed at Cade’s wry, but suspicious, tone. “I’m lying on my back in the outfield of a Little League field.”

“Oh, that’s fine, then.” Cade paused. “You okay?”

Kyle had to take a long breath before answering to make sure his voice didn’t crack. “Not exactly. Girl trouble, you know?”