She gets this shifty look in her eye. “Okay. I’ll make a deal with you. Big prize, big reward. Little prize, little reward.”
“I think I’ll take that deal.” I step up to the baseball throw. Three balls for five dollars? No problem.
“Pick out your prize,” I tell Alana, twisting the rubber baseball in my hand.
“I already know what I want,” she tells me haughtily. I can never say she isn’t a girl who knows what she wants. She exudes confidence, as long as no mention of her feelings is involved.
I eye up the three white milk bottles stacked in a triangle. I aim for the bottom left and hit it dead on, and all the bottles fall to the ground. Alana gasps, but that’s her only reaction until I do it two more times.
“You played me.”
“Maybe.” I grin.
“Double or nothing.” She pulls a five out of her little purse hanging across her body.
“You sure about this?” I ask as she hands the guy the money, and he restacks the bottles.
“Yes. Let’s see if you can pull that off again, hotshot.”
“Okay,” I sigh. “This is going to be one hell of a big reward.”
Alana smiles at me, and it’s so conniving, I’m positive that’s the exact response she wanted.
I twist the ball in my hands again, priming it as I concentrate on where I want to throw it. Suddenly, I feel Alana run her hand up my back, following the curves and contours as she goes. My body tingles. Such a little shyster, she’s trying to distract me, but it’s not going to work. Okay, if I’m being honest, it might work a little. But there’s no way in hell I’m losing out tonight, especially when she’s acting like this. I reluctantly shake off the sensation of her touch, knowing later it will be ten times more potent. I take a deep breath and aim for the bottom left bottle again. When all three fall to the ground, I just grin smugly.
“Don’t get ahead of yourself, surfer boy, you still have two more to go.”
I throw two more times, and two more times, all the stacks fall to the ground. “Go hard or go home,” I taunt as she glares at me, repressing a tiny smile.
“You played baseball in high school, didn’t you?” she asks.
“Yup, all four years. Sean and me both.” I pause from the hurtful memory. It’s something I haven’t thought about in such a long time. “Sean only played for two years.”
“Why did Sean only play for two years?” Alana asks, her tone is soft and concerned.
I look down at her, not even realizing my mood had shifted. “Um,” I stumble over my words. “His junior year, he started falling into these really deep depressions. He got involved with the wrong crowd and started using drugs.”
“Oh.” She looks mortified. I guess she wasn’t expecting that answer. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean... I shouldn’t have pried.”
“It’s fine.” I pull her against me, allowing the closeness of her body to soothe the sting of the still open wounds. “I don’t want to keep anything from you. Even if it’s painful.”
She puts her hand on my cheek, but she doesn’t utter a single word. I know delicate moments like these are awkward for her. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. You can’t change it. Trust me. I’ve tried.”
“Tried how?”
“Sean is bipolar. He’s on medication, but it makes him feel dead, according to him. So, he self-medicates. Smokes pot, does pills and other stuff.” I don’t really want to get into the nitty-gritty of “other stuff”. “By the time we figured out what was wrong with him, it was too late. He’s gone to rehab, clinics, and therapists, but nothing’s really worked. He’s stuck in this vicious cycle of ups and downs and highs and lows. My mother can’t cope, so she drinks herself stupid and leaves me to pick up the pieces when it all gets to be too much.”
“How often does it get to be too much?”
“Often enough. But I don’t know what else to do. He’s a grown man. If he doesn’t want to help himself, there isn’t anything I can do except...”
“Except what?” Alana urges.
I stare down into those boundless brown eyes. “Love him,” I confess. That is the deepest, truest, most real sentiment of my life. Because loving someone, anyone, is all I know how to do. All that I have to give. “Sean is the one person I can never turn my back on.”
“I understand. My father is the most uncompromising, cold, emotionless person I have ever met. But he’s still my father, and I can’t help but love him. It’s the only thing I can do, even if he doesn’t love me back.”