Shutout Read online

Dressed in a baby blue summer dress with her hair cascading over her shoulders, my sister stands in the doorway with her eyes bulging out of her head.

  I pull back from Colson’s grip, but his hands don’t break from around my waist or up my shirt.

  Skylar’s jaw descends as her eyes waver between the two of us. “Are you freaking kidding me?!”

  “Sky, I—”

  “Not really,” Colson chimes in, squeezing me closer to his chest.

  “Colson,” I warn. “Shut up.”

  “Are you two fucking?” It’s more a shrill than a question. Skylar’s face is turning so red I feel like it’s going to burn her eyebrows off.

  I open my mouth to speak again, but Colson beats me to it. “Yep.”

  My sister’s heated glare zeros in on me, and I steel my back, ready for a huge blowout because that’s exactly what it’s going to be.

  She has a reason to be pissed—sorta. I only told her to leave him alone a million times. Colson has told me repeatedly that he didn’t know she was my sister. Furthermore, he was fucking mine first.

  “So, that’s why you weren’t responding to my text messages about how to get him back,” she snaps in my direction. “You were too busy trying to snatch him up for yourself.”

  “That’s not how—”

  “I already told you we were done over a million times,” Colson asserts. “What part of that isn’t sinking in your thick skull?”

  “The part where you took me home from the bar,” she counters.

  “We didn’t fuck,” Colson barks.

  “Yes, we did.” My heart slumps into my stomach, as Colson’s fingers dig into the smalls of my back.

  He stands from his stool, pushing me gently back for me to sit back onto mine as he takes slow steps toward my sister.

  “You want to try and fuck this up for me?” Colson glowers. “Come up with some petty ass shit about us so that your sister won’t speak to me again?”

  “I am speaking the truth,” Skylar conveys. “She needs to hear it.”

  “Ever since I found out Sawyer was your sister, we stopped.”

  Skylaw scoffs. “If you call me sucking your dick—” My lamp on the side table of the couch crashes to the floor.

  “Bitch, keep coming up with lies. I swear to God, if another person tries to come between her and I, I will burn their lives to the ground.” Colson stops inches from my sister’s body, and I can’t move.

  I’m Skylar’s older sister, I should be protecting her. Telling Colson to back off because he has no right to yell at her that way in my apartment.

  But none of those words or feelings ring any sort of coherent action.

  Colson and I were destroyed on a lie.

  An action.

  I played a huge part in that demise, and I never forgave myself for it, but if anything, Colson is trying. He’s trying to get over what happened.

  And if my sister wants to try to bet against us, I’ll have to let her reap the consequences alone. She’s old enough to take care of herself since she does a good job running her mouth.

  “You’re insane,” Skylar exclaims. “She isn’t me. She’s twenty-eight-years-old still in college and—”

  “She’s a fucking deity compared to you,” Colson storms. “She takes care of your whole fucking family and what the hell do you do? You act like you’re still twelve. Shit’s unattractive, Skylar.”

  She points a finger at him. “You’re an asshole.” Then she rounds him and points the same finger at me. “And you’re a backstabbing bitch.”

  “You’re out!” I watch the ump throw his arm back as the opposing team’s batter gets thrown off the base.

  I exhale a shaky breath, trying to keep my focus on the game and not the scout from Florida who is sitting somewhere in the crowd.

  Or the fact that my dad isn’t here to cheer me on.

  As well as the redhead who plagues my thoughts since I told her that I loved and hated her all in the same sentence.

  I shouldn’t have said that.

  I let my true emotions seep through and put myself in a position that I didn’t know how to back out of.

  True idiot right here.

  I’ve never said that to a girl, never felt this way toward any other female either and I couldn’t save Sawyer from what came with my career.

  Repeatedly, I’ve said it over and over again, there is no place here for us. It doesn’t exist, her and I. If I wanted to be a mechanic, I would’ve jumped ship a long time ago and just dove into whatever weird shit her and I have going on. There wouldn’t be much to lose.

  But here, I have my whole life on the line.

  “Colson,” Coach Anderson calls out from the dugout. “Get in here.” I jerk my attention to him, noticing the other team getting ready to take the offense position on the field.

  It was the third out, I lost count. I’m too tense, too antsy to be able to function on what the fuck is going on when this could be the most important day of my life.

  My heart is pounding in my ears, I can’t hear the crowd, everything sounds muffled and distant as I make my way back into the dugout.

  Coach calls out the lineup while all I hear is his voice but no cohesive words. I trudge over to my batting bag hanging off the chain-linked fence, the smell of sweat from the guys mixed with their deodorant fills my nostrils as they all gather inside.

  Pulling my bat out of my bag, I look over at the crowd.

  Neon-colored poster boards.

  Someone has an air horn.

  Vendors walk around with hot dogs and popcorn.

  I don’t know what I expect to see, Dad’s not there.

  She’s not here.

  A flash of red hair catches my attention, but I already know who it is. It’s Sandra, the redhead I made out with when Sawyer caught me with my tongue down her throat. She’s been following me around like a fucking shadow all week. I’ve never met a girl who could deflect my “fuck-offs” as well as she can.

  There’s only one girl I want to kiss and mold to. And she’s not fucking here. I told her I…

  I shake my head. The fuck was I thinking?

  I think I’m in love with you, and I fucking hate you for it.

  I’m so pissed at myself, but I mean every single one of those words that I word vomited to her.

  Now I can’t face her.

  I can’t see the hope in her eyes or the picture-perfect future that she may have painted out for us. I’m not what she needs.

  I can’t be what she needs.

  Everything rides on this day and the days after. This scout is only one of the few who will be coming to Freemont. It’s hard enough to get colleges into this small town to see any of us play.

  I’m not going to blow this.

  Not for her.

  Not for a happy future with someone by my side.

  Not because I’ve been obsessed with her for months.

  I’ll cut my fucking losses. I got to kiss her, that’s what I wanted, right? There was nothing else in the plan other than fucking her, and I care too much to hurt or use her like that.

  She’s the sun, I’m the fucking clouds that will block her from being able to shine. And she’s the damn hurricane that I want to be in every time I see her face. I crave the way she rocks me back and forth, the push and pull, the way I wish for something more.

  Something more that I can’t have.

  “Colson! Warm your ass up,” Coach bellows behind me.

  I nod, propping my bat on top of my shoulder, and make my way on the side of the field to take a few practice swings. Coach hits my shoulder gently as I make my way out of the dugout, giving me words of encouragement.

  They don’t register.

  I hear them, but they don’t mean anything or make me feel any less of a mess.

  I did this all to myself because I listened to that stupid angel on my shoulder.

  Hoss, our second baseman, cracks the ball to right field, sprinting off home plate to first. I don’t check to s
ee if he makes it to second or maybe even third. I just stare in a trance at home plate as I make my way to it.

  Dirt and gravel cover the once white mat, the center of what could get me my dream. It determines the strikes that I throw and the hits that I make. A stupid mat that people trample on and kick.

  Rolling my shoulders, I take a few more practice swings and position myself for the opposing pitcher. He’s scrawny and tall, his green baseball jersey drapes over him like a potato sack.

  He eyes me with a similar, no bullshit look I give to my opponents as he rounds up and throws. The ball comes in low, below my knees and the ump calls “ball.”

  I study his stance, to see if he’s going to try to hit me with a fastball or curveball. He doesn’t give anything away, pelting his next ball over home plate and giving me my first strike.

  My teammates holler from the dugout, I hear my name starting up in a chant, and I inhale a deep breath.

  I’m out here alone.

  Shouldn’t be a surprise or mind-altering event, I’m always alone out here. Always focusing on the next game, the next way to psych a batter out.

  Except Sawyer’s always around.

  And the fact that I depended on a girl to be at my games so that I can focus, just proves to myself that I’m a fucking idiot who got in too deep.

  This night will possibly seal my fate. I need to get my head on straight. If I get into the University of Florida, it’ll watertight everything I’ve worked hard for. It’ll end everything, and it’s better this way—for both of us.

  The ball flies over home plate again. “Strike two!”

  I grit my teeth—bullshit. It was high and above my shoulders.

  “Bring your elbow up,” yells a feminine voice behind me.

  I stiffen, letting her voice smack me upside the head with my wishes that I’ve aspired for in my head. Wishes I don’t need to be longing for or hoping to have happen.

  Hopes are for mindless morons who want to waste pennies in a fountain or wish on balls of gas in the sky like it’s going to do a fucking thing against fate.

  Fate doesn’t align with Sawyer and I. No matter how much memories of her infiltrate my defenses.

  “Straight across then up just a little,” I tell her, my skin grazing her elbow. Her body immediately shutters outwardly. “What’s the matter?”

  Sawyer rolls her shoulders to brush my hand away.

  I love the reaction I just got. She’s trying to sound confident and calm, something my body isn’t feeling right now. Sawyer is soft, she smells like fresh laundry, and I want to mold her ass against my cock just to feel her melt into me.

  “You’re creeping me out with the touching,” she gripes, blowing a piece of hair out of her face.

  I tsk. “Cute.”

  The little redhead likes to lie and deny herself of how much I can make her body react by just the sweep of my fingertips.

  That’s what Sawyer is used to though, a sweet guy with words made of lollipops and sugar candies.

  It’s a load of fucking nonsense.

  A girl with some spunk in her, like Sawyer, needs to be taken by a guy who knows how to make her come harder than anything she’s ever felt before.

  “So I’ve been told,” she mutters.

  “Yeah?”

  She cocks her head side to side so she can purposely hit me with her ponytail. “Can you move so I can hit the ball?”

  I lean closer to her, positioning my lips over her ear and giving myself a reason to get closer to her.

  Fuck Gavin standing yards away, I have other plans for Sawyer Boyd.

  “Only if you say please,” I whisper.

  I can feel her everywhere. Her eyes down my back as she studies me. Her smile because my team and I got this far.

  That fucking word again, hope, that is glimmering in her green eyes because I bust my ass every day.

  I wished she’d just fucking hate me.

  My actions and words aren’t worthy of her time. They’re fucked up but truthful, a double meaning, a way to push her away.

  I don’t want to hurt her.

  I can’t say it enough to myself. Gavin did it, he broke her pride and spirit. And I don’t want her to remember me as the asshole who led her on only to leave her behind.

  I want her to remember me as the asshole who loved to kiss her. The dickhead who relished how she shuddered underneath me when I was in her personal space. The stupid ass that challenged her to stand up for herself and break out of her comfort zone.

  If anything, I want to have had some influence on her life. I just can’t physically be there to support her or even love her the way my heart begs to.

  I extend my hand out, telling the pitcher to hold off on throwing the ball. I only get a few seconds to prep myself before the ump bitches at me, but I need to see her.

  I need to see her as much as I can because we don’t have a lot of time before we graduate and go our separate ways. I want to sear her to memory so I don’t forget that amongst my mother being out of town with her new boy toy, Tommy, and my dad being dead, Sawyer was here on the most important night of my life.

  I glance over my right shoulder to see her fingers laced in the fence, that beautiful smile gracing her face.

  “You got this, Hayes,” she yells, her eyes meeting mine immediately. “You can read that pitcher like a book.”

  I just can’t see anything when my eyes only want to delve into one thing. The girl standing in front of me. The way her red hair spills over her shoulders while her bare legs push into the chain links. The freckles that paint along the bridge of her nose and scatter along her cheekbones.

  She is the one I want with every fiber of my fucking being, so much that it physically hurts. It fucks with my breathing, the strength of how powerful of a hold she has on me. Not only me but my heart. I wish I could tell her to go. That I don’t want her here. That she means absolutely nothing to me because I’m leaving this town and there is nothing here that I’ll miss.

  I won’t miss you.

  The silent words in my head don’t believe the lie. I’ll miss her mouth and how she peers up at me. I’ll miss the way her lips quirk in a smile as she tugs her head into her chest so she doesn’t let me see how big it got. I’ll miss the way she fights me.

  I think I’ll miss that most of all.

  Don’t you want to give it a shot? The angel on my shoulder whispers. She’d be so good for you. Sawyer would take care of you, love you. You’ve never had that from a woman before.

  Love me?

  I don’t think she’d be able to. Not because I don’t want her to, I’d love to hear those words spill from her lips. I can imagine my dick deep inside her as she whimpers those three words out to me before I cover my mouth with hers.

  I’d never be able to let her go after that.

  It would be the chains that keep me here. And I pray to God she never fucking says them.

  “Let’s go,” the ump barks, pulling his metal mask over his face. Sawyer bows her head, silently prodding that I can do this. I’ve always been able to do this.

  Spotting myself over the plate, the pitcher wastes no time firing the ball toward me. It’s a white blur, and I don’t wait.

  I just fucking swing.

  I want all Colson’s dreams to come true, to get his full ride and signed on to U of F’s baseball team while making his late father proud. I can’t even imagine the stress and restlessness that he must feel, but he deserves it more than anyone I know. His grades are top notch, he plays his butt off, while he bleeds and sweats baseball.

  But he wouldn’t know all these things that I hope for because he hasn’t spoken to me since the Mardi Gras party. And when he looked over at me at last Friday’s baseball game, that’s the last form of any communication I’ve received, leaving me torn on how to decipher it.

  I know he feels vulnerable that his words slipped out, and he’s more than likely regretting them now. In what capacity, I’m not sure, because he’s ignored at lea
st three of my “heys” at school and took on my role of avoiding me like the plague.

  Karma’s a bitch in that aspect.

  So, I decided to give him space. He needed it. I want to speak with him, but Taylor insists I leave him be.

  And I will...for now.

  We’re coming up on finals, he’s feeling the pressure, just like I am. There isn’t any time for fights or arguments, me getting into my feelings and Colson feeling like I’m pressuring him into anything.

  I think I’m in love with you, and I fucking hate you for it.

  He stalked off without glaring back at me after he said those words, and they’ve been on repetition in my brain for days.

  God, does he really hate me? I can’t help but feel like he really does. Maybe Colson was the guy who liked the hunt. Chasing after the fleeing prey but fell too deep into the game. I know I freaking did. But I’m not quite sure if I would use the word “hate” in that sentence.

  “If you eat another cookie,” Taylor growls from behind me. “I’m going to start charging you.”

  I continue chewing the peanut butter deliciousness, unfazed by my best friend’s threat. She’s mad that we’re manning the bake sale at the most “boring table at the fundraiser” and that she doesn’t get to ogle Bobbie Hanson at the dunk tank.

  “Where did you just come from?” I inquire, keeping my eyes on the crowded school parking lot. “Did you go walk by the dunk tank again for the thirteenth time today?”

  A soft smack lands on the back of my head. “Watch your mouth and don’t start gossiping about me.”

  I shove more cookie in my mouth. “I’m talking to you about you. Why don’t you just go ask him to prom?”

  “Hell no,” she retorts with a shrill. “Are you fucking nuts?”

  “Nope. I’m flying back home to Michigan for my prom. Screw this town.”

  Taylor is suddenly in front of me, eyes slitted so much that I’m about to ask her if she can even see. “Uh, no. You’re not skipping out on this prom.”

  I shrug while I chew. “Not about to deal with Freemont drama. I’m over it.”

  “You’re old news, Sonya’s boob job is talk of the town now.”

  “No one has noticed she just stuffs her bra?”