speed.”
“Hell yeah, you got speed. You’re related to me.”
The toothy grin on his face just got bigger. “I gotta get water and get back out there. You gonna be here until I’m done?”
If I’d had any other plans I’d have canceled them. The hopeful look on his face was impossible to ignore.
“Yep. You and me are gonna go get a big fat cheeseburger when this is over, and then I’ll take you back home.”
Brent whooped, then waved before running over to the water line. He kept glancing over at me to make sure I hadn’t moved. I wasn’t going anywhere.
“You’re related to Brent Carey?” The surprised tone in the woman’s voice behind me didn’t go unnoticed.
My protective instincts kicked in, and I turned around to look at her. “Yes, I am. He’s my little brother,” I replied, daring her to say anything about him. I didn’t care if she was a woman. I wasn’t going to let her catty, gossiping mouth say or do anything to hurt Brent.
“Oh, well. It’s just that no one ever comes around for him. Not at school or anything. I didn’t realize he had an older brother.”
She didn’t deserve an explanation. But dammit, I didn’t want her talking about my family. I knew what it was like to have the mothers of the other kids talk about you and your family. It hurt. Kids shouldn’t have to deal with that.
“He does” was my only reply. I turned my attention back to the field. Brent was watching me as he got into position. I was going to ignore the snide comments from idiots who had nothing better to do than talk about other people.
For the next hour and a half I watched Brent practice. He was good. Better than good, and his coach was right. The kid was fast. He needed some gloves if he was going to be handling the ball that much. We’d go get those tonight.
* * *
After we purchased the receiving gloves and Brent was one happy kid, we made our way to the Pickle Shack. This was the one place in town to get a good burger. That, and I knew Brent liked the arcade games inside.
I followed Brent inside and told the hostess we needed a table for two.
“A booth okay?” she asked, batting her eyelashes at me.
The girl was maybe sixteen. Damn, they learned young. I nodded, and she spun around and strutted toward a booth in the corner. I fell in step behind Brent, but my feet stopped when my eyes locked with Amanda’s. She was sitting at a large curved booth with three other girls and two guys. I hadn’t seen her since she’d left me in the parking lot of my apartment building three days ago. I’d thought about her endlessly but I had kept my distance. Seeing her here was a jolt. The time away from her had almost helped me deal with what I’d done, but looking into her pretty green eyes now, I knew I’d never get over it. She was so damn sweet, and I was the world’s largest ass.
“You coming, Preston?” Brent asked, shaking me out of my trance. I tore my gaze off Amanda and made my way to our booth. I wanted tonight to be about Brent. I didn’t need images of Amanda’s hurt expression haunting me. I also didn’t need to see her sitting so close to some dipshit who wasn’t good enough for her. I didn’t know him, but I knew he wasn’t good enough. No one was.
“Who’re they?” Brent asked, looking at me curiously, then back at the booth where Amanda was now studying her drink and twisting her straw nervously.
“Uh, no one,” I replied, opening my menu.
“That pretty blond girl keeps looking at you,” Brent said, a little too loudly.
I couldn’t help myself. I glanced over at her again. Brent was right. She was looking at me. A small smile tugged at the corner of her very full lips. I hadn’t kissed those lips. She didn’t understand why, but I did. Even drunk, I’d known some things were too good for me. Those perfect lips were off-limits to someone like me. I didn’t deserve to get a taste. I wished to God I’d been that smart about the rest of her body.
J. S. Cooper, Helen Cooper