Rayston Point Road || Editing

Chapter Thirty-Seven

"What if Leighton or Dan show up? I'm not in the mood to fight with them again. I don't even want to see her right now." The thought of leaving altogether was unappealing, but the look in Isaac's eyes suggested he wasn't going to take no for an answer, and in the months that I had known him I had learned how little he tended to take no for an answer.

"Dan's working the night shift with my dad. I doubt your sister will want to leave the boys or drag them out of the house for this. Just in case, I'll park my car along the first base line and you can watch from the car. I'll leave my car keys with you, too, so if they show up, you can just come back here. I'll see you leave, and I'll have Mac drop me off." I wondered for a moment how he knew Dan was working, until I realized his dad had probably mentioned it before he left. He was, however, still grossly underestimating my sister. I picked absentmindedly at a crease in my sweatpants, forming my next argument as Isaac jumped in again.

"Please? You're my good luck charm." I scoffed heavily, rolling my eyes at the stupid grin on his face. He grabbed another piece of pizza, chewing obnoxiously as he stared at me, smudges of sauce lingering at the corner of his mouth and along his upper lip.

"Don't be cliché," I shot him down. "I've seen you play, you don't need any good luck." My comment only seemed to bolster his confidence, because his eyes only lit up even more.

"Doesn't mean I don't want you there."

"I'm not dressed to go out." It was a lame, halfhearted excuse. In reality, what I was wearing usually mattered very little to me. My hesitation stemmed from the fact that I wasn't entirely in the mood to go out, nor was I interested in what people would say when they saw me in his car, wearing his clothes, which was too obvious to ignore.

"You look amazing." His smile was still playful, one corner turned up higher than the other, the dark dimple in his tanned skin, but a serious undertone flashed through his eyes, showing me how serious he was about his comment.

"Come on," he continued, "We can get ice cream after."

"We have ice cream here," I reminded him, pointing to the untouched pint with what was left of the pizza crust in my hand.

"So?"

I sighed heavily, shaking my head, coming to terms with what I had known from the start, that I wasn't going to win this one. "Fine." Isaac's response was to chew triumphantly on his piece of pizza as I reached for another, trying not to roll my eyes at him for the millionth time.

We polished off the rest of the medium pizza and half of the pint of ice cream before the sudden intake of heavy food after not eating all day made my stomach start to hurt, and Isaac disappeared to dispose of the garbage and change into his uniform. When he returned and took my hand, pulling me from the bed, I followed him downstairs, trying not to think about the way his fingers felt curled around mine and how much more painful it was going to be the deeper I got in with him over the next twelve hours we had together.

Still, I couldn't bring myself to try to patch up the wall that was coming down between us.

Instead, I found myself curled up in the passenger seat of Isaac's car, a blanket he had pulled from the trunk wrapped around my torso, the weather having dropped noticeably with the rain as night fell. I tipped the seat back so I could lean more comfortably into it, watching as the two teams warmed up in the light drizzle still falling from the dark clouds that moved over the stars and the moon. Every once in a while, Isaac would turn his head over his shoulder before throwing a ball to a teammate, his eyes landing on where he knew I was, and I was starting to wonder how much of a distraction my presence would be when a soft knock on the driver's side door startled me. I flinched in my seat at the sound, leaning forward and turning my head, eyes landing on a sheepish-looking Andie, hood pulled up over her blonde hair, glasses slipping down her nose. I in haled deeply, trying to stop the pounding in my chest as I reached behind me to unlock the doors, watching as Andie pulled open the door and climbed into the driver's seat of Isaac's Jeep.

"Hey," I greeted her, leaning my temple back against the headrest as I watched her pull her hood down from her face and run her hand through her hair.

"I'm surprised you're here," she started, tucking one leg underneath her as she stared at me curiously, adding, "Isaac told me where to find you," she added, but I had already known. It was an easy assumption to make that he would have sent Andie to check up on me.

"It was either this, stay at Isaac's alone, or go home," I sighed, "This was the most appealing of three very unappealing offers." I twisted the edge of the blanket around my fingers, glancing between the field and Andie's curious, searching blue eyes.

"And how did everything go?" She asked, not wasting any more time before checking in on what we had talked about earlier in the day, before she dropped me off at Isaac's. It was not unexpected, but my heart still sunk at what Andie knew, but Isaac still did not.

"I told him about Nolan."

"And?"

"And," I shrugged, "And he believed me." My voice dropped into a whisper, but a small smile still tempted at my lips, the thought of somebody unflinchingly and whole-heartedly believing me, after having even my closest family doubt me, flaming a small, warm ember of relief and hope inside my chest, despite everything. "And he doesn't think any different of me."

"Of course he doesn't." Andie reached forward, resting a hand on mine, which were twisted together in my lap. "Because nothing that happened is your fault. You did the right thing trying to help Wes, and it's not your fault that Nolan's family chose not to believe you, it's not your fault that your mother didn't believe you. You did the right thing." Her mouth was turned up into a small, reassuring smile, her blue eyes intense as they stared into mine. I chewed on my lower lip as I glanced down at our hands, and then out the rain speckled windshield. My eyes landed on Isaac at the pitcher's mound. I watched him, as Andie drew her hand away from mine, turn his head back as he prepared to throw the first pitch, his hands coming up to his chest, legs tense and ready, his eyes scanning the field behind him landing on where he knew I was once again. He seemed to linger in that position a moment longer than usual, and even through the rain and the distance I could tell his gaze was on me. I wondered, briefly, if he somehow knew that something was wrong.

As he turned to release the ball, I shifted my gaze back to Andie before it even reached the catcher's glove. With the shift in my expression, a saddened and remorseful weight drooping my shoulders and pulling my lips into a frown, I met a sympathetic expression on her face.

"Am I doing the right thing now?"