My Babies and Me - Page 26
“Yeah.” Michael glanced up at her and then away.
Suddenly she understood. The dog had died of a broken heart. And Michael still felt the sting of not being there for her.
“I’d best get going.” He stood up and stretched. “I still have to turn in the rental.”
Nodding, Susan followed him as he collected the satchel he’d brought. His things were already packed.
“Well—” he gave her a quick peck on the lips “—take care....”
Susan nodded, feeling a little bereft. “Michael?”
Michael stopped on his way out, one hand on the doorknob. She’d sounded almost...needy. Susan was never needy. On the contrary, she always thought she could handle anything, better than she probably could most of the time. Except that eventually she always seemed to manage.
“Do you want to know?”
No! He didn’t want to know about it, think about it or talk about it. He turned, satchel in hand, not knowing what to say.
“Whether or not it worked, I mean,” she clarified.
“Uh, sure.” That seemed to be the answer she was hoping for. “I guess I need to, don’t I, in case we have to try again?”
Nodding, Susan grinned—the emptiest grin he’d ever seen. “I hadn’t thought of that.”
He’d thought of little else. And reached his limit. “See ya,” he said, dropping one last kiss on her cheek.
He’d never in his life felt such a strong need to escape.
THE FOLLOWING Saturday night, Seth was once again hell-bent on escape. He spent the evening wiping the barroom floor with one of his closest buddies, who’d dared to challenge him to a round of darts.
“Good God, Carmichael, you missed one yet tonight?” Brady Smith muttered as he laid another five-dollar bill in Seth’s outstretched palm.
“Nope.” Seth grinned at the other man. He turned the five-dollar bill into a couple more beers at the bar and brought one back to Brady. “You want another go?”
“I guess,” Brady grumbled good-naturedly. “Might as well enjoy the beer as long as I’m buying.”
Resetting the electronic dart board for another game of 501, Seth motioned for his buddy to go first.
Brady hit a bull’s-eye, and then one twice. “Fifty-two.” He cursed eloquently as he finished reciting his score.
Seth hit a bull’s-eye as well. And then two triple twenties. He collected his darts silently, celebrating with a long swallow of beer.
“A hundred and seventy,” Brady said, his voice filled with reluctant awe. “How do you do that, man?”
Seth just shrugged. Truth was, he had no idea. He’d never known how he came to be so good at sports. He just was. At every sport he’d ever tried.
“You still coaching that soccer team?” Brady asked later as the two men abandoned darts to give more serious attention to the beers they were consuming.
“Nah.”
“I thought you liked it.” Brady finished his last beer, wiping the foam off his mouth with the back of his hand.
“I did.”
“You ever looking to volunteer some more, let me know,” the other man said, pulling his keys from the pocket of his jeans. “I can put you to work in a second.”
Brady ran a local detention home for troubled youths. “I’ll think about it,” Seth said. Maybe he would—if he was unlucky enough to remember this conversation in the morning. “You okay to drive?” he asked his friend.
“Yep. Only had two,” Brady reported, patting Seth on the back as he headed out. “Marge was baking cookies when I left. They should be done just about now.”
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