Bench Player by Julianna Keyes

Author:Julianna Keyes
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: romance, humorous romance, sport romance, baseball, enemies to lovers, athlete, bad boy, prison, bossy
Publisher: Julianna Keyes
Published: 2020-03-30T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 16

Allison

So this is Christmas: me and Biff, a roast chicken I picked up at the grocery store, potatoes I didn’t boil quite long enough so are more chunky than mashed, and a frozen apple pie for which I misread the directions and thought had to be baked from frozen, but actually needs to defrost for five hours.

“Well,” Biff says, squishing his potatoes with his fork. “At least there’s tequila.”

That’s because I forgot to buy wine, and the heartbreak of the past week had no cure that didn’t come courtesy of Jose Cuervo.

“Sorry,” I say, digging my fingers through my hair. I’m tired and I’m sad, and I’ve been spinning my wheels for the last seven days, waiting for Kimball to officially fire me. He’ll probably do it after the holidays so he doesn’t come across as completely heartless, though standing next to me, I think it’s safe to say he’d still come out the better person.

I’ve already told Biff the whole sordid story, an awkward and shameful disclosure that, for all its humiliation and shame, helped ease some of my grief, the way unburdening oneself often does. He’s a good listener, if only because I’m the only other person in the house and the only one talking.

He tells me he’s feeling fine, but he looks more frail, more fragile. His laugh is thinner, his hands more gnarled, his appetite smaller. I’m glad my grandfather is here for Christmas dinner, not just for the company of someone I love, but for the distraction. If I can obsess over his well-being, I can temporarily shunt my own failings to the side.

That’s easier said than done, because we’re eating at the rarely used table in the formal dining room, and it’s far too big for the two of us, a reminder that I’d harbored the small, embarrassing notion that maybe Connor would join us this year. His hideous bedazzled star sits on top of the tree, causing it to droop to one side due to its excessive weight. While we decorated the tree, he’d told me about learning to truss a turkey from one of his foster parents, and how he’d been assigned dinner duty every Christmas in Miami, feeding whoever came through the door. It had given me the silly idea that maybe he’d be in my kitchen this morning, wearing a reindeer apron and little else, while I peeled potatoes and observed.

I don’t know where he is now, if he’s in Miami or at Ty’s cabin or Blanche’s place or twelve miles away in his little yellow house. I don’t know and I refuse to try to know, because the expression on his face and the pain in his voice that day in the parking lot drove home what I’d already known: I’m a terrible person. And every time I go online and see Connor’s name, I feel even worse. Because he’s everywhere. Kimball hasn’t held a press conference yet, but word got out and people are thrilled, relieved, and offended to learn he’s been offered a minor league contract by the Thrashers.

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