Sacrifice
Page 89
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She came back to the fence. “Really?”
“Yeah. Really.” He ducked his head to wipe his forehead on his sleeve.
“But you came back anyway.”
The pitching machine died, and Michael finally turned, stepping up to the fence. “So did you.”
She’d never stood this close to him before, to where she could see the flecks of gold in his brown eyes, could count each individual strand of hair that the sun had lightened. He still smelled like summer, cut grass and sunscreen with a hint of something woodsy.
The chain-link fence between them somehow made this more intimate instead of less.
Don’t be stupid. Even serial killers can be hot.
She had to clear her throat and force her eyes away. “Like I said. I need this job.”
He gave a somewhat humorless laugh and looked past her, at the parking lot. “I won’t tell if you won’t.”
His voice was vaguely mocking. That was sarcasm, not a real offer.
But she kept thinking about the weeks she’d spent looking for employment. She kept thinking of the train ticket to New York City—that would cost a week’s pay, to say nothing of rent and expenses once she got there.
So she swallowed. “Okay. You’ve got a deal.”
A deal. Michael snorted. He’d let his guard down for thirty seconds, and it was a mistake.
“You’re crazy,” he said.
“No,” she said. “I’m serious. You can play with the batting cages, and I can—”
“I can play with the batting cages?” he said, incredulous. “Just what the hell do you think I’m doing here?”
She looked taken aback. “I mean—you are playing—”
“Forget it.” Michael grabbed for the latch on the gate. He still had four tokens left, but they’d keep until next Wednesday. What had he been thinking, talking to her like she was just some ordinary girl?
It was the please that got him. He couldn’t remember the last time any of them had said please about anything.
Really, he couldn’t remember the last time any of them had talked to him civilly.
Michael was halfway to the parking lot when he realized she was following him.
He stopped short and turned to face her. “Damn it, what? You got what you wanted, okay? I’m leaving.”
She drew back, her hands up, as if he’d drawn a gun or something. “That’s not . . . I wasn’t . . . that’s not what I want.”
“Oh yeah? Then why’d you cry to your father about me?”
Her cheeks were faintly pink, her breathing rapid. The blond hair and fair complexion made her brother look like a freak, but it suited her. He’d say she looked like a china doll, but then she’d swung a putter at his head on Wednesday. A contradiction in terms: strong and fragile, all at the same time. Like she might cry, but she’d slug him first.
It made him want to apologize.
To her, of all people! He turned and started walking again.
Loose rocks ground against the pavement as she jogged to catch up to him.
Michael whirled before she could say anything. “I don’t know what you’re playing, but it’s not going to work. You think you can provoke me into losing control? You think I’m going to give you a reason to call the Guides? This was my place, get it? Mine. It’s a batting cage. I’m not hurting anyone.” He took a step closer to her. “So just leave me the hell alone.”
And with that, the pavement cracked and split between them.
Emily jumped back, but Michael caught it before his power caused too much damage. Just a twelve-foot crack in the parking lot, only an inch wide. Anything could have caused it, really. Rain. Weeds. Anything.
But Michael knew he’d done it. Worse, she knew he’d done it.
She was staring at him now, wide-eyed, her breathing quicker than before.
Run.
Pride wouldn’t let him do that. But he turned on his heel and made for the truck, and it took every ounce of self-control to keep from tearing out of the parking lot.
CHAPTER 4
Emily was pushing her dinner around her plate again. Tyler was texting again.
Her parents were bickering again.
She kept thinking of Michael in the batting cage, the fury that carried through every swing. The conviction in his voice as he’d confronted her in the parking lot.
I’m not hurting anyone.
And then that twelve-foot crack had split the pavement.
But worse, she kept thinking of the color of his eyes in the sunlight. The moment of intimacy when all that stood between them was a few links of steel.
In a way, he reminded her of wildcats at the zoo. Mountain lions, maybe, or panthers. All sleek and dangerous, but so beautiful you’d reach out and touch if you could.
“Emily?”
She snapped her head up. Her father was staring at her, and it sounded like he’d called her name more than once. “I’m sorry. What?”
“I asked if you had any more trouble at the sports complex.”
Here was her chance. She could tell them what Michael had done. Her father would call the Guides, and they’d eradicate the problem.
But she’d provoked him.
This was my place. Mine.
If she’d poked a mountain lion with a stick and it bit her hand off, would that be her fault or the lion’s? Guilt had a hold of her gut and refused to let go. She speared a few noodles with her fork so she wouldn’t have to look at her father. “No. No trouble.”
“Yeah. Really.” He ducked his head to wipe his forehead on his sleeve.
“But you came back anyway.”
The pitching machine died, and Michael finally turned, stepping up to the fence. “So did you.”
She’d never stood this close to him before, to where she could see the flecks of gold in his brown eyes, could count each individual strand of hair that the sun had lightened. He still smelled like summer, cut grass and sunscreen with a hint of something woodsy.
The chain-link fence between them somehow made this more intimate instead of less.
Don’t be stupid. Even serial killers can be hot.
She had to clear her throat and force her eyes away. “Like I said. I need this job.”
He gave a somewhat humorless laugh and looked past her, at the parking lot. “I won’t tell if you won’t.”
His voice was vaguely mocking. That was sarcasm, not a real offer.
But she kept thinking about the weeks she’d spent looking for employment. She kept thinking of the train ticket to New York City—that would cost a week’s pay, to say nothing of rent and expenses once she got there.
So she swallowed. “Okay. You’ve got a deal.”
A deal. Michael snorted. He’d let his guard down for thirty seconds, and it was a mistake.
“You’re crazy,” he said.
“No,” she said. “I’m serious. You can play with the batting cages, and I can—”
“I can play with the batting cages?” he said, incredulous. “Just what the hell do you think I’m doing here?”
She looked taken aback. “I mean—you are playing—”
“Forget it.” Michael grabbed for the latch on the gate. He still had four tokens left, but they’d keep until next Wednesday. What had he been thinking, talking to her like she was just some ordinary girl?
It was the please that got him. He couldn’t remember the last time any of them had said please about anything.
Really, he couldn’t remember the last time any of them had talked to him civilly.
Michael was halfway to the parking lot when he realized she was following him.
He stopped short and turned to face her. “Damn it, what? You got what you wanted, okay? I’m leaving.”
She drew back, her hands up, as if he’d drawn a gun or something. “That’s not . . . I wasn’t . . . that’s not what I want.”
“Oh yeah? Then why’d you cry to your father about me?”
Her cheeks were faintly pink, her breathing rapid. The blond hair and fair complexion made her brother look like a freak, but it suited her. He’d say she looked like a china doll, but then she’d swung a putter at his head on Wednesday. A contradiction in terms: strong and fragile, all at the same time. Like she might cry, but she’d slug him first.
It made him want to apologize.
To her, of all people! He turned and started walking again.
Loose rocks ground against the pavement as she jogged to catch up to him.
Michael whirled before she could say anything. “I don’t know what you’re playing, but it’s not going to work. You think you can provoke me into losing control? You think I’m going to give you a reason to call the Guides? This was my place, get it? Mine. It’s a batting cage. I’m not hurting anyone.” He took a step closer to her. “So just leave me the hell alone.”
And with that, the pavement cracked and split between them.
Emily jumped back, but Michael caught it before his power caused too much damage. Just a twelve-foot crack in the parking lot, only an inch wide. Anything could have caused it, really. Rain. Weeds. Anything.
But Michael knew he’d done it. Worse, she knew he’d done it.
She was staring at him now, wide-eyed, her breathing quicker than before.
Run.
Pride wouldn’t let him do that. But he turned on his heel and made for the truck, and it took every ounce of self-control to keep from tearing out of the parking lot.
CHAPTER 4
Emily was pushing her dinner around her plate again. Tyler was texting again.
Her parents were bickering again.
She kept thinking of Michael in the batting cage, the fury that carried through every swing. The conviction in his voice as he’d confronted her in the parking lot.
I’m not hurting anyone.
And then that twelve-foot crack had split the pavement.
But worse, she kept thinking of the color of his eyes in the sunlight. The moment of intimacy when all that stood between them was a few links of steel.
In a way, he reminded her of wildcats at the zoo. Mountain lions, maybe, or panthers. All sleek and dangerous, but so beautiful you’d reach out and touch if you could.
“Emily?”
She snapped her head up. Her father was staring at her, and it sounded like he’d called her name more than once. “I’m sorry. What?”
“I asked if you had any more trouble at the sports complex.”
Here was her chance. She could tell them what Michael had done. Her father would call the Guides, and they’d eradicate the problem.
But she’d provoked him.
This was my place. Mine.
If she’d poked a mountain lion with a stick and it bit her hand off, would that be her fault or the lion’s? Guilt had a hold of her gut and refused to let go. She speared a few noodles with her fork so she wouldn’t have to look at her father. “No. No trouble.”
