“It’s fine.” I pulled the two pie pans from the fridge and set them on the island before returning for the freshly whipped cream. “She means well. Ross’s been going to the diner for a while, so I’m fairly sure he knows she’s spunky.”
“That’s a word for it.”
I smiled and found a knife. “What do you think? Of Ross.”
“He’s great. Seems like a nice young man. Your father is star-struck.”
I laughed and sliced the pies into eight equal pieces. “Makes it a lot easier. Not that I was all that worried that he’d drag out a shotgun and set up shop on the front porch.”
My mom chuckled around her wineglass and pushed away from the counter to help me plate the desserts.
When the last crumbs of pie were gone and all the plates and silverware were stacked in neat rows beside the sink, my dad and Aunt Maggie retired to the den to finish up the Christmas movie they’d started before dinner. Maggie was stumbling a bit and would probably fall asleep on the couch.
My mom went to work on the dishes. When Ross and I offered to help, she waved us off and we wound back through the dining room and stopped in the living room. Finally, alone. Ross hadn’t quite been the same since talking about his family at the dinner table. I laced my hands together, suddenly wishing I’d worn something with pockets, and glanced up at him. “Do you want to stay? We can go watch the last part of the movie and drink cocoa and eggnog.”
Ross reached behind him and rubbed his palm over the back of his neck. His eyes glanced back and forth a few times as though he were torn about what to say. After a moment, he dropped his hand and grabbed mine. “I’d love to, but I should get going before the roads get too iced over.”
“Right.” I nodded and forced a smile. He located his coat from the rack by the front door and pulled it on. “Well, thank you for coming. I’m glad you could join me. Us.”
“Shelby, I” He shifted his weight back into his heels. His jaw went tense and he worked it back and forth. I waited for him to say whatever he was could, but he swallowed it down. “I had a great time. Thank you.”
“Yeah, sure. Of course.” I pulled the front door open, ushering him out, even though it made my heart ache to have him leaving so soon, especially since I didn’t know what he was thinking. With a quiet smile, he turned and left, walking down the slick, ice-coated driveway before I could find out.
11
Ross
“Damn, Leverette! You gonna leave some of that bag for the next guy?”
I threw another right hook, then blasted a series of punches and jabs, ignoring whoever was jeering me from the corner of the gym. The punching bag swung, and I jumped back a split second before delivering a roundhouse kick. Kickboxing wasn’t exactly a football workout, but it had always been my favorite, especially on mornings when I couldn’t shake the anger that hung around me.
“Guess that’s a no” the voice that I finally recognized as Beauman, our middle linebacker, added under his breath. “You okay, man?”
“I’m fine,” I replied, the answer grit between my clenched teeth as I went back to raining blows against the bag.
A glance over to my right told me he wasn’t going to drop it. Instead, he leaned against the wall and pocketed his hands. “It’s just that most of us are still in a Christmas dinner coma, and you’re in here tearing it up like Rocky Balboa on crack.”
A hard punch rattled through me. Damn it. He was throwing off my concentration. I dropped my arms and glared at the bag as it swung to a stop. When it went still, I pivoted on the heel of my sneakers and stalked a few paces closer to where he was lounging. “I said I’m fine.”
The problem with Beauman was that he wasn’t afraid of anyone. He could face down a three-hundred-plus-pound lineman without blinking. I was just about his same height, and he had a good fifty pounds on me, so if we got into it, I wasn’t sure who would win. Not that I wanted to fight him. He wasn’t my problem.
I shrugged my shoulders back, releasing the tension built up between them. “What do you want, man? I had a shitty night and needed to come in here to blow off some steam today.”
Chance didn’t break eye contact. He glared at me with a cool, unflinching stare. “Listen, man, I don’t know your story, and it’s cool if you don’t wanna tell me, but if you do, just know I’m here for you. All right?”
My teeth dug into the side of my cheek as I wrestled with whether or not to tell him. After the sleepless night I had, tangled in the sheets, staring at the ceiling, wondering what the hell was wrong with me, I was tired of living inside my own head. Maybe spilling my guts would help.