The Last Strike by A.R. Henry

Chapter 8

Did I tell you that I’m the most unathletic person this sports town has ever seen?

I did?

Well let me tell you again...I am the most unathletic person in the entire Eastern Tennessee region.

If there was a competition—nay an Olympic sport—I would win the gold medal every time. And yet, here I am, mostly due to Ash’s insistence, running a 5k marathon for…fun. Whoever came up with the idea of a “fun run” is the biggest dumbass I’ve never had the displeasure of meeting.

I mean seriously, I think free Starbucks for a year is “fun” or playing with puppies for an hour or two on a Saturday morning sounds like a fantastic idea. Whoever decided running for roughly three miles while having colored chalk dust thrown in your face while sweating profusely was a good idea needs to have their house toilet papered.

Someone give me their address. I just decided my plans for my Saturday night.

After nearly passing out twice, and basically crawling across the finish line, I manage to make it back to my car and by the power of Jesus taking the wheel I somehow make it home.

However, Jesus seems to have left the building—or car—because once I get there, I can’t find the willpower to move. Maybe taking a nap using my steering wheel wouldn’t be so bad. I lay my forehead on the wheel and try to dig really deep to find some semblance of strength to get out of the car but it’s just not there. I close my eyes. Okay, maybe a nap here won’t be so bad. About five seconds later my nap time is interrupted by someone knocking on my car window.

I’m so tired that my body doesn’t even jolt from the sudden rattle. I groan, turning my head the bare minimum, and open one eye to see who’s had the nerve to interrupt me while I’m trying to die.

When I see the intruder’s face I groan again.

“Just leave me. I’m trying to die in peace, and you’re ruining it.”

He laughs. The ass actually laughs at me. If I wasn’t so exhausted, I would open both eyes to really appreciate it.

“What’s wrong Cherry? You okay?”

At this point I’m considering taking my birth certificate to the courts and legally changing my name because clearly, I’ve been pronouncing Courtney wrong all these years.

“Can’t you see that I’m dying? My last wish is to be left alone. Goodbye. Tell my parents I loved them and tell Ash and my brother that I’ll see them in Hell.”

My car door has been opened, which is strange because I thought it was locked when I pulled in. Weston reaches in to grab my arm and helps lift me out of the car.

I whine in protest, “Ooo, stop it. I know you don’t like me, but even this is cruel and unusual punishment. Couldn’t you just leave me to meet my Maker in peace?”

He gives me a confused look and startles me by saying, “I like you enough Cherry Bomb. Come on, let’s get you inside. What the hell did you do this morning?”

Cherry Bomb?

My brain is momentarily stunned by what he just called me so instead of unpacking that little tidbit I just answer his question.

“Ash made me run for fun. Whoever thinks running is fun needs to seriously reevaluate their life and possibly see a therapist.”

He gently places his right arm across my shoulder blades and tucks his left hand under my right arm before guiding me towards the house. I’m not thinking about the fact that his fingers are grazing side boob right now. Nope, whales are a thing, right? Big, blue whales. I wonder where they are at this time of the year.

“You gonna make it?” He looks down at me with an amused smile on his face like he knows how his touch is affecting me right now.

I fake a smile back and give him my cheeriest, “Yep!” but it comes out more like a squeak.

“Where are your keys? I’ll open the door.”

“Oh, we can just use the door in the garage. The lock’s busted anyways so I don’t even bother trying to bolt it anymore.”

His smile slides off his face and turns into a frown. “I’ll take a look at it before I leave.”

“Oh, no that’s not necessary. So, were you visiting Mrs. W?” I quickly try to make a subject change. Something tells me this man wouldn’t listen to me if I told him the cure for cancer. The only response I get to my question is a grunt, of course. I didn’t think just because we had a moment the other night that the man would turn into Shakespeare.

“Do you visit her a lot?” I try again to make small talk, but he doesn’t respond. “Come on, talk to me. Take my mind off of my ailing body parts.”

We make it inside even though it was an awkward feat considering Weston was basically holding me up.

I should have told him to let me go, so I could crawl to the couch, but it felt too good to have his arm wrapped around me.

And hey, the man’s big, baseball playing hand was almost touching my boob. I would be a fool to tell him to drop me now, and my momma didn’t raise no fool.

He steers me over to the couch and we awkwardly stumble around my furniture until I not-so-gracefully collapse onto it.

“Where’s your pain medication?”

I tell him where I keep it in the bathroom, and he comes back with two aspirin and a glass of water.

“Bless you, you beautiful man,” I praise him as I sit up to take the medicine.

“Do you have a toolbox?”

For some reason that question grates on my nerves.

How can he go from the rude jerk wad who ignores me to this nice man who helps me inside and wants to fix things? Why is he even trying to help me? It’s like he wants me to fall in love with him so he can turn around and laugh in my face about it later. He needs to leave. Now.

“Do I look like Bob the Builder? No. I don’t have tools. I’ll call someone on Monday to come fix the lock. Thank you for taking pity on me and helping me inside, but you don’t need to do anything else. I’ll manage,” I bite out more forcefully than necessary, and it makes me feel like a jerk, but he has to go.

“Don’t call anyone Cherry Bomb. I’ll see if Nana has any tools she can use and if not, I’ll come by tomorrow and fix it.”

“Weston.”

“Courtney.”

Hooo-ld up. Why does it sound so unbelievably sexy when he says my name?

Pull it together girl. You need to put the floozy side away and focus.

I take a deep breath through my nose and say, “You don’t need to fix my doorknob. I can take care of it.”

“I know I don’t need to Courtney, but do you think if my daughter was living somewhere alone, I could sleep at night knowing the lock on her was busted? No. I’m sure your dad doesn’t know about it either, or it would have already been fixed. I know how much teachers get paid, and I’m sure some repairman is going to overcharge you when I can fix it for free.”

Why is he doing this to me? I'm powerless against nice guy Weston.

I ease up the bitterness and softly say, “I thought you didn’t like me. If you’re this insistent you must not hate me as much as I thought.”

His expression softens so much it’s almost as if he looks sad, then he says, “I don’t hate you, Courtney.”

Ugh there he goes with my name again.

“When I go out women are constantly throwing themselves at me. When your beer got spilled at the bar, I thought you were just using that as an excuse to talk to me—”

“What?” I interrupt, “I didn’t even know who you were then! I just wanted you to apologize for knocking into me.” And buy me another drink. I don’t say that out loud because now doesn’t seem the time to address that travesty.

He has the good sense to look a little remorseful. “I know. I know that now, but you wouldn’t believe how many women have tried that. The first few times it happened I would buy them another drink and then they would stick around to flirt with me. After a while I caught on and had to just start ignoring people all together.”

Wow. That’s actually insane.

“Okay...I’m glad we cleared that up, but what about after that? You were still a jerk to me at the school.”

“You’ll probably believe me more on this. I honestly avoid coming to Cami’s school as much as possible. It’s like a breeding ground for single women. Every time I step foot in the place, I feel like I have to peel ten women off of me just to get out the door. I know it’s wrong, but when I saw you standing there and realized who you were, I really thought you were like all the other women I meet at the school. I even considered moving Cami to a different class, but my mom talked me out of it.”

My jaw is on the floor.

“Have you really had that many women throw themselves at you?” I ask skeptically, finding this a little hard to believe.

He nods in response, and suddenly I’m feeling a little sad for womankind. We can do better than shamelessly turning into hussies and treating good looking men like pieces of meat. Don’t get me wrong, I’m all for friendly flirting, but I know when to lay my armor down and accept that a guy isn’t interested.

What I say next has a not-so-small piece of me dying inside, but I know it’s what I need to say if I ever want him to talk to me again.

I can settle for being friends with him.

I know he’s having this conversation to let me know that he’s not interested in dating anyone, and I can respect that he just wants to look out for his daughter right now.

“Well, buddy, you don’t have to worry about me. I’m not interested in getting in your pants. I only want to be a good teacher for Cami, and the best way for me to do that successfully is to get along with her dad...so...friends?” I hold out my hand to him as a peace offering.

He looks down at my hand for a few seconds before taking it in his and looking back up to meet my eyes.

“Friends.”

With that one word my location in the friend-zone is locked down and secured. Kill me now.

Instead of making the scowl I feel, I smile at him brightly. Fake it till you make it, right?

“Great. Now tell me what the deal is with Cami’s mom. Does she forget to pick her up from school a lot?”

He looks at me like I’m a conundrum. “You’re not shy, are you?”

I smile even bigger. “Nope.”

He huffs out a small laugh and says, “Amber, Cami’s mom, is a doctor. She works crazy hours at the hospital and sometimes gets paged in on her days off. Unfortunately, it’s happening more and more lately when she’s supposed to pick Cami up. I know Amber loves Cami, but she’s always put her career above everything else. That’s why we split up. I’ve always wanted a big family, and I thought Amber did too. But I realized shortly after Cami was born, when Amber told me she would rather go back to work than stay home with her, that I realized she only had her to placate me. When we first split, Amber was supposed to get Cami every weekend. Over time it slowly turned into every other weekend, and now she only sees Cami about once a month.”

Well, shit.

Poor Cami.

When he notices that I’m not saying anything he breaks the silence. “This probably sounds terrible, but I’m actually okay with it now. At first, I was furious with Amber every time she would call at the last minute to back out of seeing Cami, but over time I realized that it’s for the best. I don’t want Cami growing up spending half her time with a mother that doesn’t want to be there for her. I’d rather Cami only know the full love of one parent rather than the half love of two.”

He cannot be real, saying things like that. The worst part is that I just friend zoned myself when all I really want to do is jump his bones.

“Wow, when you put it like that, I get it. I’m sorry that Cami has to go through that though. I couldn’t even imagine how I would feel in her shoes.”

“That’s why I don’t date because I want Cami to know that I’m enough for her. I can’t stand the thought of anyone else letting her down. I can’t put her through that again.”

“I totally understand.” I might be disappointed as hell, but I get it. “Well since we’re friends now does that mean you’ll rub my feet? They’re really sore.”

I don’t know what I was expecting but having one of my couch cushions thrown at my head wasn’t it. We were both still laughing when he walked out my door a few minutes later.