Page 188 of Chasing Headlines
“Well, how do we break up?” He bent and scooped my baseball from the floor. “I’m sure you don’t want to give up your reporter beat. So it can’t be something like you cheated on me.” He tossed me the ball. I snagged it out of the air.
“It wouldn’t bemecheating. I’ve seen the aftereffects of that detonation, thank you very much.” I lightly lobbed the ball back at his chest.
He grimaced. “Dad?”
“Mom.” I shrugged one shoulder like it didn't matter. Hadn't changed my whole life . . .
“Well, wouldn’t be me either.” Breslin batted the ball from one hand to the other, then over to me, like a demented version of table-less table tennis.
I caught it. “What?”
“I’d never do that to someone. My older brother was a . . .” He visibly took in a breath, his t-shirt tight enough it rippled and—Woah, it was either too short or his blue-grey sweatpants had fallen . . . really low. “Cowards cheat. Your mother included.”
“Agreed.” I forced my eyes up as the warmth spinning about my insides ignited into a series of flames. I flipped the ball back to him.
“What are other reasons people break up?” He gripped the baseball along the seams like he was about to throw at the plate.
“You've never broken up with someone?” I held my hands up like a basket. He underhand-pitched it at me. I missed.
“But your parents must’ve . . .” I bent and snagged the baseball before it could roll away. I righted myself, pivoting back to face him. He stared in the direction of the floor. “Oh. Um, sorry.”
“Dad the farmer and Mom the stay-at-home wife? Sure, they fought. Mostly about money.” He held up a hand as a sign to throw him the ball. “What to do about my baseball tournaments. That kind of thing.”
“Wow, didn’t think anything like that existed anymore.” I arced the ball, underhand, back at him. “You look pretty good for eating apple pie and ice cream every night.”
He tipped his head, his dark hair slipping against his forehead, and gave me a pointed look.
“Who knew the Storm Cooper started off so wholesome? They should put your house in a museum or something.”
He rolled his eyes and did a stretching-loosening thing: rotating shoulders, stretching his neck. The hem of his t-shirt flirted with the waistband of his joggers. “We had our issues . . . Still do. My older brother was a shit who ran off and joined the army as soon as he turned eighteen. Didn’t even come home when my mom.” He rubbed at his forehead. “When the cancer. Yeah.”
“Oh.”
“And my dad officially kicked me out about six, seven weeks ago, now? Something about being ungrateful and childish.” He tossed the ball. I caught it.
“I think this time is tough on both sides. Parents struggle with letting go. We're trying to navigate . . . so many changes and unknowns. At least, that’s what my brother says. He and my dad butted heads something fierce when he was my age.”
“Could be. Or my dad’s an asshole that never listens.”
I sighed. “As Dotty would say: I feel that to my very bones.” I held up the baseball. He reached for it, but before he could grab it, I pulled away.
His eyes narrowed and that smirky grin toyed with his lips. “So, figure out how to break up with me?” He pivoted, blocking me in. I moved a step back.
“Oh, I get to break up withyou?”
“I’ll get the sympathy vote from my teammates.”
“Hmph.” I tossed the baseball from one hand to the other. “Shouldn’t be hard for anyone to believe you neglected me or something.”
“Nope.” He snagged the ball out of the air. “I’m determined to treat that woman, theonewoman for me, like she hung the moon.” He ducked his head. “You never know how many years or minutes you’ll have.”
My heart lurched too close to the whirling heat. It began to melt. “You’re so Oklahoma. Hung the moon? But you’re also not making this easy.”
“I’m not?” He tossed the baseball at me. “You’re the one who says we should break up.”
Wait, did he move closer?I took another step back. “I thought we agreed. You know before you got clobbered again.” I shifted back and pitched him the ball.
He caught it and grinned. “Game-winning run.”