Read Online Behind the Pitch, a novella: Seeking Serenity 1.5 by Eden Butler - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Eden Butler
Tags: new adult
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on to me about something I didn’t hear, because my attention was on McShane. And Morrison. And how close he stood next to her; to the smug, satisfied expression on his face.
He’d found me out, somehow. He knew my family history and that Autumn was part of it. And he knew that she didn’t know how we were connected, or that we were connected at all.
She only knew that this morning while I trained the girls, I couldn’t keep my hands off her. She knew that I thought about our date all night. Couldn’t sleep for the recall of every detail. She knew that I just broke it off with her. She didn’t know that it was forced, that I would have rather gouged out my eyes than leave her be.
Because of “not mine” secrets.
I wanted to kill Morrison.
I wanted to punch Joe in the throat.
I wanted Heather to leave me alone.
I wanted Autumn’s face to be frown free.
I wanted her. Just her. Only her. But if she knew what I must keep to myself, for now at least, she wouldn’t look at me twice.
She’d hate me.
So, I didn’t do what I wanted to do. I didn’t take what I wanted to take. I didn’t run up to where Autumn and Morrison were talking, and knock that satisfied grin off his face. I didn’t throw McShane over my shoulder and cart her away so that she was well away from that arsehole. And I didn’t tell Heather to piss off.
And I really wanted to tell her to piss off, trust me.
I just stared at Autumn, accepted the glare she gave me.
“Declan? Did you hear me?” Heather asked, pulling my attention off my McShane.
“Sorry. What’s that now?”
“I asked if you wanted to grab a bite to eat.” I didn’t move Heather’s hand from my chest, not when Morrison touched McShane. Hands off, arsehole. But if I went after them, that would only confuse Autumn. I gave her the toss just minutes before. Me telling her to stay clear of her ex would be barmy. Heather ran her nails down my arm, made me stare down at her.
Maybe if I talked to Heather, kept her around a bit, then I won’t be tempted to annoy Autumn. Maybe diverting my attention would help keep my mind off of where it’s stayed for weeks now.
“Yeah, sure,” I told Heather, no enthusiasm in my voice. “After practice.”
I walked away from her, from Autumn making plans with that wanker and onto the field thinking about the things I wanted.
The things I wanted and could not have.
Ages back, Autumn told me that her folks were mad for each other. They’d snuggle and touch and kiss and do all the things that parents do to mortify their children. Many times, McShane said, she felt left out, even as a kid, understanding that when her parents carried on that way, she didn’t feel like she was visible. And so she took to sneaking away in books, disappearing to Narnia or to Middle-earth, discovering the secrets of the tesseract with Meg, Charles and Calvin. Those moments were her escape; the imaginary friends that helped her pass the time when her parents were too focused on each other to mind what Autumn did.
She sat on the basement floor with books littered around her like comrades, steeling her, giving her the strength she pretended she didn’t need.
And now she believed that I didn’t want her.
She believed that with me she wasn’t visible either.
Load of bollocks, that.
Her hair glinted against the overhead light, shone like glitter. I wanted to touch it, touch her, breathe in the sweet scent of her skin. But I couldn’t. It wouldn’t be fair, or honorable.
I was getting fecking tired of what was fair and honorable.
“Those need sorting?” she asked as I came down the stairs with a box of books in my hands. She directed me to the floor at her right when I didn’t answer with more than a grunt of confirmation.
I should have walked away. I shouldn’t have lingered in that dark place. I should have ignored her, as she did me that morning when she came into the library. She’d seemed more concerned with speaking to Sayo than
He’d found me out, somehow. He knew my family history and that Autumn was part of it. And he knew that she didn’t know how we were connected, or that we were connected at all.
She only knew that this morning while I trained the girls, I couldn’t keep my hands off her. She knew that I thought about our date all night. Couldn’t sleep for the recall of every detail. She knew that I just broke it off with her. She didn’t know that it was forced, that I would have rather gouged out my eyes than leave her be.
Because of “not mine” secrets.
I wanted to kill Morrison.
I wanted to punch Joe in the throat.
I wanted Heather to leave me alone.
I wanted Autumn’s face to be frown free.
I wanted her. Just her. Only her. But if she knew what I must keep to myself, for now at least, she wouldn’t look at me twice.
She’d hate me.
So, I didn’t do what I wanted to do. I didn’t take what I wanted to take. I didn’t run up to where Autumn and Morrison were talking, and knock that satisfied grin off his face. I didn’t throw McShane over my shoulder and cart her away so that she was well away from that arsehole. And I didn’t tell Heather to piss off.
And I really wanted to tell her to piss off, trust me.
I just stared at Autumn, accepted the glare she gave me.
“Declan? Did you hear me?” Heather asked, pulling my attention off my McShane.
“Sorry. What’s that now?”
“I asked if you wanted to grab a bite to eat.” I didn’t move Heather’s hand from my chest, not when Morrison touched McShane. Hands off, arsehole. But if I went after them, that would only confuse Autumn. I gave her the toss just minutes before. Me telling her to stay clear of her ex would be barmy. Heather ran her nails down my arm, made me stare down at her.
Maybe if I talked to Heather, kept her around a bit, then I won’t be tempted to annoy Autumn. Maybe diverting my attention would help keep my mind off of where it’s stayed for weeks now.
“Yeah, sure,” I told Heather, no enthusiasm in my voice. “After practice.”
I walked away from her, from Autumn making plans with that wanker and onto the field thinking about the things I wanted.
The things I wanted and could not have.
Ages back, Autumn told me that her folks were mad for each other. They’d snuggle and touch and kiss and do all the things that parents do to mortify their children. Many times, McShane said, she felt left out, even as a kid, understanding that when her parents carried on that way, she didn’t feel like she was visible. And so she took to sneaking away in books, disappearing to Narnia or to Middle-earth, discovering the secrets of the tesseract with Meg, Charles and Calvin. Those moments were her escape; the imaginary friends that helped her pass the time when her parents were too focused on each other to mind what Autumn did.
She sat on the basement floor with books littered around her like comrades, steeling her, giving her the strength she pretended she didn’t need.
And now she believed that I didn’t want her.
She believed that with me she wasn’t visible either.
Load of bollocks, that.
Her hair glinted against the overhead light, shone like glitter. I wanted to touch it, touch her, breathe in the sweet scent of her skin. But I couldn’t. It wouldn’t be fair, or honorable.
I was getting fecking tired of what was fair and honorable.
“Those need sorting?” she asked as I came down the stairs with a box of books in my hands. She directed me to the floor at her right when I didn’t answer with more than a grunt of confirmation.
I should have walked away. I shouldn’t have lingered in that dark place. I should have ignored her, as she did me that morning when she came into the library. She’d seemed more concerned with speaking to Sayo than
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