Read Full Count (The Catcher Series Book 1) Online
Authors: Bri Izzo
“Skyler, she shouldn
’
t be
staying here. It
’
s already 1:00 a.m.,” she calmly refutes.
It
’
s dark in the hallway but I still feel her fiery eyes
on me.
“
Mom, I don’
t know what your
reasoning is, but I respectfully disagree. She needs to be somewhere quiet with
someone who cares about her. I
’
m sorry but that
’
s not in Beth
’
s house,” I argue, stepping
beside her and continuing on my way down the stairs.
“Sky!” my mom calls after me.
“I really don
’
t want to fight
with you. I
’
m going to get her,” I tell her. I wait a
moment to see her reaction and am surprised when she cracks a smile.
“I
’
ll get an extra pillow for
her,” she caves. I can
’
t help but smile back because we
both know that this will piss off Beth, my mom
’
s best
friend, but she
’
s choosing to be on my side instead. It
’
s exactly why I respect my mom and not Buzz
’
s.
When I arrive at the Ferraris
’
house,
I don
’
t even bother knocking on the door; I just let
myself in and intentionally slam the door behind me.
“What the hell?” I hear faintly from the living room
as I sprint up the front staircase towards Buzz
’
s room.
Knocking lightly first, I enter her room to find her lying on her bed with two
pillows pressed to her ears while facing the doorway. Her eyes immediately
brighten when she sees me, and my heart starts pulling me towards her.
“Hey, B,” I whisper, walking to her bedside. I
’
m so grateful it
’
s the bedside of her
actual bed and not the one in the fucking hospital anymore. Those things are
more machines than beds; no way was that comfortable for her to sleep in for
almost a week. But she still looks miserable here, and I can
’
t
wait to get her in my quiet house. “How you feelin
’
?”
“Better now. I just need silence,” she mumbles,
slightly moving the pillows to the open space next to her.
“I know. That
’
s why I
’
m here,” I agree, sliding one of my hands under her back and
the other under her knees. “Can you hold onto me?” I ask, and I can
’
t help but grin when she nods and drapes her arms around my
neck and shoulders. She looks like a little kid who just wants to be carried
around so she can feel safe and maybe feel like she
’
s
flying for a moment. Innocence covers her face, and I fucking love it. The
stairs are bumpy, but we manage to hold each other tight enough that she doesn
’
t even slip through my grip. Neither of us have death grips;
but I am holding her head gently to keep it still. I swing her out onto the
front porch and down the steps to where my Jeep is waiting in the driveway.
After setting her in the passenger
’
s seat, I tell her, “I
’
ll be right back.”
“Wait, what? Where are you going?” she nervously asks
me. Fuck. She
’
s definitely not the same fearless Buzz.
“I forgot something inside,” I reply. It
’
s not a total lie. I
’
m going back inside
to yell at her mom who is in the living room and can
’
t be
damned enough to turn the music down or fucking check who bursts into their
house at 1:00 a.m. She
’
s sitting on the couch with a glass
of red wine watching some shitty reality TV show where the people are at a club
with loud music.
“Skyler? Why are you here?” she wonders, keeping her
spot on the couch.
“Fuck you, Beth!” I shout. I don
’
t
care if the entire neighborhood hears me; the only person I don
’
t
want to witness this is Buzz.
“Skyler James, how dare you talk to me like that!” she
argues, setting her wine glass on the coffee table. It
’
s
weird that she calls me by the same name my mom does when I
’
m
in trouble with her, but Beth is my Godmother and basically my second mom no
matter how much I hate her. She still doesn
’
t stand up to
match me, probably because she knows she is going to lose no matter what.
“How dare you treat your recovering daughter like
the piece of shit that you are,” I fight back. I
’
ll
fucking talk to her like that if I damn well please. She deserves no respect
from me or anyone for the way she acts. What Allen sees in her I will never
fucking know. Also I fucking hate that Beth is my Godmother because she
’
s the most ungodly mother on the planet.
“
I don’
t know what you
’
re talking about,” Beth turns her attention back on the TV.
“You know damn well what I
’
m
talking about. She has severe brain trauma and you
’
re
fucking blasting this Jersey Shore shit so we can hear it at my house down the
block. She asked you to turn it down, and you didn
’
t. So
now I
’
m taking her to my house so she can sleep in peace
and quiet,” I explain, starting to back away into the kitchen so I can leave. I
stop when she finally stands up to argue.
“
You can
’
t
just take her. She
’
s a minor. That
’
s
child abduction.”
God, she
’
s so fucking
pathetic.
In what appears to be work out clothes that don
’
t
have an ounce of sweat on them, Beth comes closer to me as she places a hand on
her hip to prove she
’
s serious, but I
’
m
not fucking intimidated in the least bit.
“You
’
re right; she is a minor.
And what you
’
re doing to her is child abuse. So you
’
re going to either let me take her to my house so she can
fucking sleep or you can watch me call the police on you,” I threaten, standing
my ground as she backs away. She rolls her eyes, but I take it as her white
flag. “That
’
s what I thought.”
The driveway isn
’
t dark for being the middle
of the night. The lamp post and garage sconces do their job of brightening up
our front yard, but it still feels eerie to me. I know I
’
ve
lived in this house all my life because the moment we pulled up the driveway
from the hospital I remembered running around in the sprinkler on the front
lawn during my fifth birthday party. But it
’
s weird to
hear the stillness in the neighborhood this late at night. In the background I
can faintly hear yelling between a man and a woman, and it seems as though it
could be coming from my house, but I know it
’
s not
possible. My dad has already gone to bed because he works early tomorrow, and
Rex is in the basement with Benny playing video games.
Skyler thankfully only leaves me alone for a few
minutes, and from the moment he steps outside of my house he
’
s
silent. I know I asked for peace and quiet, but it
’
s still
awkward. I want to say something, but then I can
’
t tell if
he
’
s upset and that
’
s why he isn
’
t talking or if he isn
’
t talking because
he thinks I want him to be quiet. It
’
s all so confusing.
When he parks the Jeep in his driveway I start to open my door, but he stops
me.
“I
’
ll get you. Just wait,” he
tells me in a soft voice. I hear him sigh like he
’
s
suppressing something major, so I don
’
t want to argue with
him. He scoops me back into his arms like he
’
s about to
carry me over a threshold, and I rest my cheek on his chest as I hold onto him.
His steps are smooth and careful, unlike the ones he took as he raced down the
steps of my front porch to meet me in his Jeep. Being treated like a precious
object is refreshing; I know I won
’
t have to worry about
loud music or yelling at his house.
His mom knowingly passes us with an approving smile
in the upstairs hallway as he carries me to his bedroom.
What was that? Does
she think this is something else? Or… is this something else and I
’m just clueless?
She totally thinks we have feelings for
each other. That was a
I can hear everything through the walls
kind of
look.
“Is it okay with your mom that I
’
m
staying here?” I realize it
’
s probable that Skyler didn
’
t even ask for permission. He apparently didn
’
t
tell anyone except for Benny that he was going to the cabin the night before my
accident. The two of them explained almost every excruciating detail of Skyler’s
birthday the night before and the actual events of my accident to me my last
night in the hospital. Anything Skyler wanted to leave out, Benny added. I
understand why Sky wanted some details left out because most of them made him
extremely vulnerable, but I love that he didn
’
t deny
anything and that Benny could see something between me and Skyler. I
’
m not exactly sure what it is, but I want to find out.
“Yes. I told her I was going to get you,” he
confirms, gently setting me on his bed like I
’
m a hot
serving plate at Thanksgiving dinner.
“You
told
her… not
asked
?” I grin as I
try to raise my eyebrows at him. I
’
m having a hard time
remembering I have stitches across my entire forehead stopping me.
His knees crack as he kneels down beside me, but his
eyes stay locked on mine. Heat, intensity, and passion fill them. My heart
feels like it
’
s producing river rapids for how fast it
’
s pumping, and every time I try to say something to Skyler a
giant rock sticks out and jabs me in the throat to make me avoid the quick
embarrassment of finding out his true feelings.
“Yes,
told
,” he validates my observation.
Without looking away from my eyes, Skyler reaches for my hand at my side and
gently brushes his fingertips over it. “Do you need anything? Water, food,
another pillow, Advil?” he rambles, and it
’
s adorable.
“Can you just bring a garbage can over here?” I
request. “I
’
m still getting nauseous during the night.” When
I was in the hospital, every night in the middle of being dead asleep, I would
wake up and within seconds was puking over the side of my bed. It was totally
random, but the doctor said I could be dreaming about being on a lake and
getting seasick from it on top of nausea being a side effect of my pain
medicine.
And that
’
s exactly what happens
tonight, too, despite not taking the pain medicine before bed. Dizziness drowns
me as I shoot up from my sleep and attempt to aim for the garbage can as I hurl
over. I haven
’
t been throwing up for more than a half
second before I feel Skyler
’
s hand on my back. My hair is
already in a ponytail, but I feel him grab it and gently hold it against my
back so it won
’
t fall onto my chest. I cough in between
regurgitating my chicken nugget dinner for a second time. Groaning and
whimpering help me calm my breath, and when I convince myself I
’
m
done puking, I sit further back on the bed and droop my head.
“I
’
m sorry I woke you up,” I
whisper, casually darting my eyes around the floor in front of my feet to test
my dizziness. The room has stopped swaying, which is a good sign.
“Hey, no, it
’
s okay,” he
assures me, his hand still on my lower back. I
’
m surprised
he doesn
’
t yell at me for apologizing; he must
’ve forgotten our deal. It’
s nice to have him here again. He
spent every night in the hospital with me. I
’
m not sure if
that
’
s why no one else did or if he did because everyone
else left me. Tiffany only stayed the first night - in bed with me. Regardless,
he managed to support me through all my puking sprees. Even though it was only
one night without him when I was released from the hospital, it felt like an
eternity. I was alone in my room because I couldn
’
t make
it to the bathroom, and no one could hear me to come sit with me. It sucked.
There
’
s nothing worse than puking and no one knowing or caring.
“How was last night? Was anyone with you?” he asks
me as we sit in the darkness. He
’
s stroking my back, truly
the most comforting thing he could do for me, without me even asking.
“I was quiet about it, so no one heard me,”
I admit. I don’
t want him to yell at me or be upset in any way,
so I lean into his side and let him wrap his arm around my shoulder.
As he sighs and squeezes me close to him, I hope that
it
’
s enough to distract him from his temper. “You could
’
ve called me,” he quietly points out. His voice is raspy from
sleeping, but it
’
s so comforting to hear the calmness in
it.
Nodding, I reply, “I know.” Closing my eyes, I relax
my shoulders and add, “I just didn
’
t have the energy. But
it was okay. Don
’
t worry.
”
“You know I
’
m going to worry
about you. I think it was part of our deal,” he chuckles, nudging me in the
side.
So he does remember… even though that actually wasn
’
t
part of our deal. Guess it is now.
“Do you have pictures?” I wonder vaguely. I can feel
the chemistry between us even though I kind of feel like I just met him. Every
time I see him my stomach turns into a butterfly hoarding house but it
’
s more out of excitement than nerves. Since I woke up in the
hospital he seems to be the only person who gets me, who truly understands me.
Tiffany is a close second, but with Skyler constantly checking on me, it
’
s hard for her to get in a word.
“Pictures of what?” he asks, turning to consume me
with his eyes. It
’
s sensual but in the least offensive
way. It
’
s like whatever I want, he wants to give it to me.
“Of us… from when we were kids,” I clarify. His eyes
widen at my addition, and it makes me realize that we need to be careful;
careful sleeping in a bed together and careful giving our hearts to each other.
Clearly he cares for me, in a no-matter-what kind of way, and I can
’
t lose that for any reason.
“Yeah. My mom has some albums in the basement. We
can look at them tomorrow,” he explains as he forces his lips to stay straight
and not curve up into a smile. In the week since my accident I
’
ve
noticed a simple trend in Skyler
’
s expressions: he tries
to hide them as much as possible. I think it
’
s funny that
Tiffany said she has never seen him smile much, even being around me; I figure
it must be his staple to not show emotions too often.
The next morning I wake up calmly and feel a
stillness. When I open my eyes it confirms that I am, in fact, somewhere other
than my own house. It could pass as mine with the equal amount of baseball
pictures and memorabilia scattered on the walls and shelves. The only
difference is Skyler
’
s walls are blue to my purple. And it
resides in a comforting, quiet house. I smell coffee coming from the kitchen,
so I know I
’
m not the only one awake. Careful not to wake
Skyler, I tiptoe downstairs to find his mom sitting at the breakfast bar
sipping on her cup of coffee.
“Good morning, Mrs. Swanson,” I greet her shyly as I
slide my feet across the tile floor. She hasn
’
t aged a day
that I can remember, but I
’
m not sure how close we were
before my accident, so I don
’
t say anything more. She came
to the hospital for one day when all the parents came together, but that
’
s it.
“
Good morning, Bianca,
” she
cheerfully returns, looking up at me and fully grinning. I can
’
t
believe how energetic she looks for so early in the morning; although, I don
’
t even know the actual time. It just feels early. I glance at
the microwave and it reads 8:56 a.m. “And it
’s Susie, honey.
”
“I
’
m sorry…
Susie,
”
I saunter to the stool next to her.
“It
’
s okay. Don
’t
apologize,
” she sweetly commands, tapping my hand I have resting on the
countertop. After waiting a moment in silence, Susie stands up and ventures to
her dining room that
’
s just off the kitchen. “I thought,” she
grunts breathlessly, dropping multiple binders on the kitchen table behind me. “Looking
through some old pictures might help you remember some things.” I eye the stack
of photo albums in front of me and suddenly feel overwhelmed. I
’
m
impressed with the amount of pictures she possesses. She moves one off the tall
pile and opens it, encouraging me to join her in looking through my past. “Your
mom has just as many pictures, but she
’
s just not as
organized. Hers are all in bins. I finally got around to putting mine into
books. Anything you see of you or your siblings your mom has, too. We always
made copies for each other.”
“Wow. Thank you,” I aw, sitting on a chair as she
hovers over my shoulder. The title page of the book has Skyler
’
s
name on it, but almost every single picture in it features me or Rex or both of
us with him.
“This was when we were building the cabin up north,”
Susie narrates as I flip to a picture with the studs of the cabin outlining the
house and the three of us as kids peeking our heads in between them.
“My parents own it with you guys, right?” I think
aloud, moving onto the next page where we
’
re playing
tee-ball in the front yard of the cabin with our dads. The top picture shows me
batting and giving my dad, who is pitching, a fake evil lioness look as I await
my pitch. The next one shows Skyler more closely catching behind me. He had to
have been no older than eight, but he already had the perfect catcher
’
s stance. The last one on that page shows Rex leading off from
first base, ready to run when I hit the ball.
“Yes,” she confirms. “You three were inseparable
from the moment you met, and since we were good friends, too, it only made
sense. Gosh, we
’
ve spent so many weekends up there with
you guys. You three always have so much fun together.”
“What birthday party was this?” I anxiously ask,
pointing to a photo of Skyler sitting at a table with a birthday cake in front
of him. It obviously doesn
’
t have his age on it or else I
wouldn
’
t have asked. I
’
m standing to
his left with a Cubs hat on and a pink shirt, and it makes me laugh at my lack
of fashion sense.
“Umm,” she ponders for a moment. “That was his
eighth. You were the only girl that was there, but you fit right in with the
boys.”