Not Playing Fair (The NOT Series Book 2) Page 7

  “Look, we had some good times. A lot of them. But you said yourself that we’re too different. Now you’ve found someone else, a woman with whom I assume you share more in common than you did with me, and I’m moving on as well. Whether that happens with Ryan or someone else is none of your business.”

  I turned again to leave, but he had one more question. “What about being friends?”

  I stopped but didn’t turn around. Letting out a long sigh, I said, “We’re teammates, Fletcher. Let’s leave it at that.”

  Chapter Eight

  Fletcher was right about one thing. I had caused a scene, and I regretted it the moment I rejoined the group when a hush fell over the tables. Being the center of attention had never appealed to me, but I had to do something to break the silence.

  “Anyone up for a game of darts?” I asked.

  “Heck, yeah,” Dalton said, rising from his chair.

  Theresa rose as well. “I’ll play. Come on, Jeremy. Let’s kick their butts.”

  I looked around to find Ryan, hoping he might play as well, but he wasn’t sitting with the others.

  “Where’s Ryan?” I asked Theresa.

  With a shrug, she plucked the darts out of the pockmarked board. “He said something about having to get home to Wendy.”

  My brain skidded to a stop. “Wendy?”

  “Yeah. Probably his girlfriend. No way a guy that cute is single.”

  Hopes crushed, I nodded. “Right.”

  She handed me the three blue darts. “He was flirting with you pretty hard, though, so maybe it’s his sister or something.”

  Or maybe I’d completely misread the situation and was about to make a fool of myself. I’d only met the guy twice now so it wasn’t as if I was invested, but I had hoped…

  “Are you as good at darts as you are at softball?” Dalton asked while dangling an arm around my shoulders.

  The smell of sweat smacked me in the nose and I tried not to breathe too deeply. “Are you?” I asked.

  He winked. “I’m good at a lot of things.”

  Flirting wasn’t my forte, and neither was recognizing when I was being flirted with. However, even I recognized such a blatant come-on. Dipping out from beneath his arm, I put some distance between us. “I’m only interested in your dart skills, but good to know.”

  Undeterred, the outfielder grinned with confidence. “We can start there.”

  Well aware of his playboy reputation, I ignored the comment. He was pretty and would probably show any girl a good time, but that was the problem. For Dalton, any girl would do, and I wasn’t interested in becoming one more name on his score sheet.

  “You must have ripped Fletcher a new one,” Theresa said in a low whisper as Jeremy took his turn.

  “We just cleared a few things up,” I said.

  She nudged me with her elbow and pointed toward the group with her dart. “He hasn’t said a word since he came back in. I’ve never seen the man so quiet.”

  He did look a bit pathetic, and I tried not to feel guilty. This was his fault, after all. I didn’t break up with him. And I wasn’t the one interfering in his life. In fact, I was trying to stay out of his life. At any time over the last eight months, Fletcher could have called or sent an email. He could have come into the library or stopped by my house. I wasn’t hiding, and I hadn’t blocked him in any way.

  Yet, he’d done none of those things.

  “How well do you know Fiona?” I asked her.

  “Not much, but I know she’s too good for his ass.”

  Dalton finished his turn, scoring enough points to take us into the lead, and Theresa stepped up to go.

  “What are you doing this weekend?” Dalton asked, leaning an arm on the cocktail table against the wall.

  Where did this sudden interest come from? Was I putting out a pheromone I wasn’t aware of? Because guys like Dalton typically didn’t take an interest in me. I was the short, quiet one who was good for an extra base hit. Dalton’s targets were more the party girls looking for a good time. There was nothing wrong with that, but it just wasn’t me.

  “I’m not sure,” I said, too stunned to come up with a lie. “I might be working.”

  Not a lie, necessarily. I did have that programs summary to do for Jeffrey.

  “You’re up, Megan,” said Jeremy. “Let’s see what you’ve got.”

  Happy for the out, I stepped up to the line and took my turn. I’d played on a darts team back in college and still had the muscle memory to hit every number I aimed for. Though we weren’t on the same team, Theresa offered a high five while the guys stared with gaping jaws.

  “What the hell?” Jeremy said.

  “That’s my partner,” Dalton replied with a grin.

  Impressing him had not been my intention, but I would never tank a game on purpose, even to get out of an awkward situation. Damn my competitive nature. Though he stood a little too close every chance he got, my teammate didn’t pursue the weekend question through the rest of the game, and once we won—by a blowout, of course—I turned my darts over to Priscilla and said my goodbyes.

  Fletcher and I didn’t speak again, and when Dalton offered to walk me to my car, I firmly but nicely turned him down. To my relief, he took the rejection well, and I was in my car minutes later. On the drive home, my brain kept going back to the Wendy thing. How could I have been so far off? Better to find out now than later, but still. That glimmer of hope had been the one positive in a series of what the hells.

  If asked a week ago, I’d have said I wished my life wasn’t so boring. After the last four days, boring sounded really flippin’ good.

  Not counting the looming stress of Jeffrey and our endangered programs, work was still my safe haven. My calm in whatever storm might be brewing in my life. Though I couldn’t remember a time when I didn’t love books, I once realized that I also felt protective of them. I doubt I would have survived my mother’s abrupt departure without the ability to escape from my fear and guilt and loneliness into other worlds. Secret gardens and magical wardrobes and, of course, the wizarding world that had bewitched a generation.

  Books were there when the birthday cards stopped coming. When graduations passed without her there. Even as recently as when Fletcher said he didn’t want me anymore. I owed my sanity and my imagination to books, and being a librarian was my way of paying them back.

  But the job came with one more benefit—meeting people who loved books as much as I did.

  “I can’t believe you have this,” said Ruby, gently trailing a hand over the cover of a fifty-year-old copy of Charlotte’s Web. “This is my most favorite-est story.”

  Her reverence for the book made my heart swell. “Why do you like that one so much?” I asked her. I had my reasons for loving Charlotte, but I wanted to know Ruby’s reasons.

  “Because I’m Wilbur,” she said, taking me by surprise.

  “You’re Wilbur?”

  Ruby nodded. “He needed a mom and Charlotte took care of him. Then he lost her.” Kicking her feet back and forth beneath her chair, she kept her eyes on the weathered cover. “My mom took really good care of me, and then I lost her.”

  I hadn’t expected to cry at work today. “You miss her a lot, huh?”

  Blue eyes rose to mine. “Do you miss your mom?”

  When she’d first started coming to the library, Ruby had been quiet and standoffish. Once I learned her story, I shared my own to let her know she wasn’t alone in not having a mother. Mine wasn’t killed in an accident, but she was out of my life just the same.

  This was not an easy question to answer. After some consideration, I said, “I miss having a mom, yes.”

  I couldn’t lie and say I missed my mother specifically. I didn’t even know her, really. No more than a seven-year-old could have. But most of my memories weren’t good. I assumed that Ruby didn’t have many memories of her mother either. She’d only been a toddler at the time of the accident.

  “Do you like your dad?” she ask
ed.

  “I love my dad,” I replied without hesitation. “He’s my favorite person in the whole world. Do you like your dad?”

  Russell Adams seemed like a good man, but I hadn’t been around him much since Ruby’s aunt, her father’s younger sister, accompanied the child to the library most of the time.

  “Papa is okay,” she replied without much enthusiasm. “He works a lot but he always gets home in time to tuck me in.”

  “Does he read to you?” I asked.

  “Sometimes.” As if wanting to change the subject, Ruby said, “You’re in this book, too.”

  I could see myself as Fern. A little girl passionate to save a little pig.

  “Who do you see me as?” I asked, assuming I knew the answer.

  Ruby scooted to the edge of her chair. “You’re Charlotte.”

  Confused, I asked, “How so?”

  “You’re always telling us that we’re special, and you read to us, and you teach us things. You’re like a mom.”

  Now I really was going to cry. I wanted children but had long feared that my unconventional upbringing had left me ill-equipped to be a mother. Not that Dad hadn’t been a wonderful parent, but moms were different. Moms had special powers, and if those were passed down or learned, then I would never have them.

  Chest tight with gratitude, I said, “I’ve never pictured myself as a spider, but that comparison makes me happy.”

  With a nod, she hopped off her chair. “You should. I need to use the little girls’ room.”

  The abrupt change of topic made me smile. “Just leave the book on your chair,” I said and watched her shuffle off toward the stairs. On my way back to the front desk, I passed Cassie, her nose deep in an old newspaper. “Have you found something interesting?” I asked.

  She glanced up, eyes blinking as if she’d been looking at the tiny print for too long.

  “Interesting, yes. Helpful, no.”

  I sat down across the table from her. “What exactly are you looking for?”

  Cassie closed the newspaper, careful not to tear it. “Anything that will tell me about my mom’s side of the family.”

  I didn’t want to assume, so I said, “Can you not ask your mom?”

  “I have.” Her lips fell into a flat line. “She says I don’t need to go digging through the past.”

  Odd, but I supposed every family had their secrets. Some that probably should stay buried.

  “She must have her reasons. What if you find something you don’t want to know?”

  “Learning anything would be better than the big blank space that’s there now.” Crossing her arms, she leaned back in her chair. “My mom and I don’t get along, but she’s the only parent I’ve ever known, and I’m tired of not having a history.”

  “You don’t have to answer this, but you never knew your dad?”

  Cassie shook her head. “He died when Luke and I were still babies.”

  “Luke is your brother?”

  “My twin,” she said with a nod. “Mom moved us away from his family and they didn’t make an effort to keep in touch, but I do know a little about them. That isn’t the case for Mom’s side. I did the DNA thing, but nothing came up that would give me any leads.”

  I considered doing that once, but never got around to it. “I’m sorry that you aren’t finding any answers.”

  “Me, too.” She sighed. “I was hoping I’d discover a whole family, and then there’d be reunions and big holiday gatherings. Some kind of medical history would be nice, too.”

  Funny I hadn’t thought about those things. Geraldine had been an only child plus a late in life baby so her parents had both passed when I was too young to know them. Dad had a couple sisters so we did the occasional holiday dinner. One of my cousins had kids and I always took books for them, but we hadn’t gotten together in quite a while. Geraldine had been healthy during the seven years she’d been with us, but I wondered if she’d had any medical conditions since then. Maybe that’s what was in the letter.

  Then again, if she hadn’t cared enough to stay in my life, I couldn’t imagine she’d take the time to warn me of an impending fatal disease.

  “Do you know anything about her life here in Pittsburgh?” I asked.

  “Zilch,” Cassie replied.

  I tried to think of ways to help. “If you know her date of birth, you might try looking for a birth certificate.”

  “Already did that and got nothing. It’s as if she never existed before moving to California.”

  Whatever this woman wanted to hide must have been huge. Like she’d killed a man, or maybe she’d been involved with some mafia type and knew too much. Pittsburgh had been home to a slew of organized crime families throughout the twentieth century, and some were still wielding power as recently as the last decade.

  “That is odd. Whatever she isn’t telling you must be a big deal.”

  With a roll of her eyes, Cassie said, “She just likes to be mysterious. The woman has been a bookkeeper for a dental office since I was a kid. That doesn’t exactly scream wild and crazy past.”

  Unless she learned how to keep books through a nefarious enterprise.

  I rose to my feet. “Local history is Miriam’s area so she might be more help than I am.”

  “We spent an hour together the other day and still found nothing, but I’m not ready to give up yet.” Cassie opened the newspaper once more. “I’m determined to find answers.”

  “Good luck.”

  “Thanks,” she said. “I could use some.”

  I did a quick check on Ruby, who was back and happily reading about Wilbur and Charlotte, then returned to my desk, trying to recall the details I knew about Geraldine’s life before having me. She and Dad had gone to the same high school, and I’d found her in his old yearbook. From what I could gather, she’d been pretty, popular, and involved in everything. Cheerleading. Drama club. Student council. Even the yearbook committee, which probably explained why her picture showed up every few pages.

  Geraldine had liked attention. I’d once wished to be more like her. To be bold and outgoing. But I would never want to be a mother like her. My children, should I ever be lucky enough to have some, would never experience what I did.

  Chapter Nine

  I was less stressed going into the next practice than I’d been before the first two. There was no more trepidation about Fletcher. He knew where I stood, and thinking of him with someone else didn’t make my stomach roll like it did last week. Though I’d been hopeful about Ryan, finding out he had a Wendy at home, which I doubted was a sister or whatever Theresa had suggested, snapped some common sense into me.

  He was a stranger who had been nice to me for fewer than thirty minutes. Beyond that, I knew nothing about him. He could hate romantic comedies. Or like yacht rock. Or eat pineapple on his pizza.

  The dealbreaker possibilities were endless.

  What if he didn’t like books or cats or Pokémon plushies? I owned a great deal of two of these items, and I did not have a cat. Fletcher had hated my plushie collection, so I’d been forced to put them all in totes that had collected dust in his garage. No longer did I have to hide them away, and I’d vowed never again to put a man above my Pokémon.

  I arrived extra early today, and to my surprise, Fiona asked to warm up with me. Fletcher had yet to show, and I had no reason to turn her down so I agreed. Her arm really was impressive. She stung my hand a couple of times, but I could tell she wasn’t doing it on purpose. That was just how the threw. Like a shot coming at you. At one point, the ball lifted in the air like a curveball catching a current and I couldn’t help but envy her talent.

  She was the perfect argument for why there should be more opportunities for women’s softball beyond college. There technically was a professional league, but most people had never heard of it, and it wasn’t even close to the level of professional baseball. The lack of opportunities in this sport was so frustrating.

  The good thing about warming up with Fion
a was that I had to pay attention. Stealing glances to see the arriving teammates could cost me my nose. Which was why I didn’t see Ryan until the coach had called us all to the bench. Without much preamble, we took to the field, filling the same positions from the previous practices, and the men to my left and right both acted as if I wasn’t there.

  I understood Fletcher’s behavior. I didn’t think I’d been unnecessarily mean the other night, but I hadn’t been my typical doormat self either. Whatever issue he had with his decision to break up with me was his to deal with. There had been plenty of moments over the last eight months when I’d wanted to hear from him, but that feeling had passed.

  Ryan’s attitude was more confusing. He now knew there was nothing between me and Fletcher, and if anything, I should have been the one annoyed, since he clearly had someone waiting at home.

  The first half of practice progressed as usual, and we took a water break before switching to batting practice. I waited my turn, then filled my cup and took a seat on the bench. Ryan did the same but remained standing several feet away. Everyone took their turn, and after another twenty minutes of practicing several defensive plays, Coach Barry gathered us at the bench once again.

  “As you all know, our first game is a week from today. I considered adding another practice over the weekend, but we don’t need it. We’ll be here next Monday and Wednesday, and at that point, I’ll have your shirts to hand out. Don’t do anything stupid in the next week. I don’t want to start the season having to find coverage for injured players. Any questions?”

  No one spoke.

  “Good. Then be back here at six on Monday.”

  The usual call for the bar came up, and I opted out. Dalton had already winked at me twice; Fletcher was clearly still sulking, and Alexion’s would be much more packed on a Friday than they’d been on Wednesday night. There was a hot bath, green tea face mask, and the latest Kristin Hannah book waiting for me at home.

  “Can I talk to you a second?” Ryan said, surprising me as I reached my car.