Free Fair Play by Tracy A. Ward Page A

rack and a whole lot of double-sided tape.”
    “It’s for Caroline’s last scene in act 1.”
    “The dress is gorgeous, Jess. And perfect for Caroline.”
    “Enough about fictional characters. How are things going with Noah?”
    I nibbled my lower lip and thought of how to respond. “Strained at the moment, but I’m hoping we’ll work around it for the sake of the play.” I still had act III to write.
    Jessica un-looped the tape measure from her neck and tossed it on the table. “I guess Noah told you about Kyle Pritchard, then.”
    My gut bottomed out at the sound of that name. What on earth was she talking about? I waited, until finally Jess looked up and met my gaze. I found myself able to speak again. “What about Kyle? What are you talking about?”
    Her brows slammed together, and I could tell by the way she looked at me that she’d stepped in it big time. She pinched her lips together and looked down at the fabric in her lap, feigning interest in a seam.
    This wasn’t good. “Jess, you have to tell me. What does Noah know about Kyle Pritchard?”
    “That the man is in town. He’s one of the festival judges.” Jess put her pin cushion on the table next to the tape measure, her silence saying everything.
    My heart thumped, threatening to pound out of my chest. At the same time I got that tingly feeling in my extremities, making me feel light and unrooted, like this was some sort of out of body experience and not really happening at all.
    Jessica’s hand on my shoulder pulled me back, proving this was all too real. Though Kyle and I were both part of the theater world, our paths had yet to cross. It had been wishful thinking, hoping I could avoid him indefinitely.
    “Are you sure Noah knows he’s here?” I asked. But why wouldn’t he have told me?
    “The entire population of Phair knows he’s here. He arrived with a bit of a bang. I’ll show you.” Her shoulders tensed as she dug the newspaper from two days ago from the bottom of her trash.
    The headline read: Festival judge turns hero to save mayor’s son!
    I skimmed over the article that continued on the next to last page of the paper. Multiple photos were included, and I scrutinized every one. But it was the one taken by a pedestrian with a camera phone that held incriminating evidence. In the corner on the right-hand side of the picture, on the final page of the article, a man pulling a dolly with an AC strapped to it was crossing the street. And he was looking straight at Kyle Pritchard.
    My emotions lurched from revulsion to panic to anger in a matter of seconds.
    Noah Blake had been keeping secrets.
    …
    Needing to clear my head after what I just learned, I headed out to the batting cages at the end of the city park. Smacking softballs with a metal bat or throwing fastball pitches usually helped ease the stress, but somehow I couldn’t get out of my car. Instead, I sat there with the air on full blast, doing my best to keep my worry in check. Kyle Pritchard was a festival judge. After what I’d inadvertently put him through, he’d probably want revenge. Which meant we were all screwed.
    Only, what if Kyle didn’t remember me?
    No. That was a dumb thought.
    The two days he spent in the hospital after Noah had beaten the hell out of him would’ve ensured I was a name and a face he wouldn’t likely forget.
    But the question niggling at the back of my mind was why Noah had kept the information on Kyle’s appearance in Phair a secret. Why hadn’t he told me?
    Realization kicked in. Because of his savior complex, that’s why. Noah felt it to his bones that it was his responsibility to look out for me—whether I wanted him to or not.
    Well, no longer. It had to stop. Today. I’d deal with the issue of Kyle Pritchard later. Right now, I was pissed and ready to have it out with Noah. I was done being his rescue project. I picked up my cell phone and dialed.
    “Blake,” he said after the fourth ring.
    “It’s me.”
    “Hope