It Was Me (9 page)

SIXTEEN

I found the athletic department offices adjacent to the massive football stadium after making my way through the enormous maze of green lawns and stucco buildings on the university campus. I parked the Sellers' SUV in a visitors parking spot and, after taking a deep breath, I forced myself to get out and shut the door behind me.

I walked toward the glass-doored entrance, the morning air feeling like the inside of an oven. The grass that lined the walkway was damp, small drops of water glistening in the sunshine. Everything looked like it had just been washed, scrubbed and cut.

I stepped through the glass doors and the cool air enveloped me. The walls were dotted with glossy photographs, showcasing the university's athletic teams in action. A wide receiver celebrating in the end zone. A baseball player sliding into home, his hands extended above his head. A basketball player soaring to the rim, his mouth wide open, the ball cupped well above his head.

I made my way toward a tall, U-shaped desk. A girl stood behind it, short blonde hair, a dark summer tan, about my age. She smiled at me and her teeth were as shockingly white as her hair. “Can I help you?”

“I'm meeting with Coach Childs this morning,” I said.

She nodded knowingly. “I had you pegged as a baseball player as soon as you walked through the doors. I can usually tell.”

I leaned an elbow on the counter. “That right?”

She nodded again. “Yep.” She glanced down at something on her desk, then picked up the phone. After a moment, she said “West Montgomery is here for you.” She paused, then said. “Okeydoke.” She hung up.

“How'd you know my name?” I asked.

She held up an iPad. “Well, this little thing from the future has a calendar in it and if our coaches do their jobs correctly, all I have to do is bring it up and I'll know who's who.”

I smiled. “Got it.”

She stood. She wore a navy tank top with the university logo emblazoned across the front and white shorts. The color of her legs matched the deep tan of her arms. “I'll take you down.”

“Tennis player,” I said.

She stopped abruptly at the edge of the desk. “What?”

“You're a tennis player.”

She stared at me for a moment, then nodded. “Yeah. How'd you know?”

“I can usually tell.” I repeated her words.

She smiled and shook her head. “Follow me.”

I did and we walked the long hallway, the walls again adorned with more photos of the Arizona athletes. We stopped at a bank of elevators and she punched the up button.

“I'm Christina,” she said, offering her hand.

“And you already know mine,” I said as I shook.

“I assume you're a prospective student?” she asked.

The elevator bell dinged and the sleek metal doors opened. We stepped inside.

“I guess so,” I said.

“Have you already been admitted?”

“Nope.”

“I haven't seen your name on recruiting lists.”

“I just met your coach yesterday.”

She pushed the button with the number four on it and the doors slid closed. “Wow. Really? Kind of a weird time.”

I shrugged. “I guess.”

“I'm a junior,” she said. “And, yeah. A tennis player. But I work here during the summer. I'm majoring in sports administration and figured this was a good place to start.”

“Probably so.”

“Where are you from?”

“San Diego?”

“Nice,” she said. The bell dinged again and the doors opened. “My ex-boyfriend was from San Diego.”

I wasn't sure if she was making conversation, recruiting me, or flirting with me. Whichever it was, she was at least easy to talk to.

The hall we stepped into as we came out of the elevator was just like the ones downstairs. Long and filled with photos.

Christina pointed to the end of the hall, her hand still on the elevator door. “Coach Childs is the last one on the left. Can't miss it.”

“Thanks.”

“Hope it goes well,” she said, stepping back into the elevator and flashing the white teeth at me again. “I'll be downstairs when you're done. Trying to figure out how you knew I played tennis.”

The doors closed before I could respond.

Coach Childs was already out of his office before I got to the end of the hallway. He wore a collared red university shirt, khaki shorts and a visor with an “A” on it.

We shook hands.

“Right on time,” he said, smiling. “A good start.”

I nodded and followed him into his office. It was a corner room with a large window that looked out toward the football stadium. There were pictures mounted on the walls, all former or current players by the look of it. More photos, this time of what appeared to be his family, were displayed on the top of a low bookshelf situated behind his neatly maintained desk.

He grabbed a set of keys off the small table in the corner. “Before we sit down, I thought we could take a quick spin around the campus. That sound alright?”

“Sure.”

We headed back to the elevator and he waved at Christina as we passed her on the way out. The phone was pressed to her ear, but she waved back. We climbed into a red and blue golf cart parked next to the building and for the next forty minutes, he gave me the grand tour of the University of Arizona. He showed me the admissions office, the student center, the dormitories, and several classroom buildings. He pointed out their recreation facilities and took me inside the basketball arena and then their weight room and conditioning facilities. I wasn't sure what I'd been expecting, but I couldn't hide the fact that I was impressed by all of it.

And I liked Coach Childs. He seemed easygoing, with a good sense of humor. He wasn't asking me a ton of questions and he wasn't prying. In fact, we'd talked very little about baseball. There was no pressure.

When we got back to his office, he reached into a small fridge on the side of his desk, handed me a bottle of water and gestured for me to have a seat on the other side of the desk from him.

He unscrewed the cap on his bottle, took a long swallow and set the bottle on the desk. “So. What'd you think?”

I wasn't going to lie or beat around the bush. “I think it all looks pretty great.”

“It's a good school, West,” he said. “Whether you're playing ball here or not, it's a good school with a good reputation. Whatever the future holds for you, I think the school can help.”

“I believe it.”

He leaned back in his chair. “So let me ask the first uncomfortable question of the morning. What did you hear from the pro scouts?”

I took a drink from the water and then held the bottle in my lap. “Three of them called. I haven't spoken to them yet.”

He raised an eyebrow. “No?”

I shook my head. “No. Voicemails and texts. I haven't responded yet.”

“Can I ask why?”

I shifted in the chair. “Everything happened kinda fast. Until yesterday morning, I wasn't even planning on going to that tryout. So I'm not really prepared for all this. Just a lot to take in right now.”

He nodded like he approved. “Good. That's probably the right approach. Though I'll tell you I'm surprised. Most guys get a call from a scout, they trip over themselves to return the call.”

I shrugged. “Probably. But like I said, this has all happened pretty fast .”

“Sure,” he said. “Absolutely understand. Alright. Here's tough question number two. Are you interested in playing college ball? Because if playing here doesn't hold much interest for you and you're strictly interested in going the pro route, then we probably don't need to go much further.”

I spun the water bottle between my hands. “I'm absolutely interested in playing college ball.”

He smiled. “That's what I was hoping you were going to say. So, now here's the million dollar question. Are you interested in playing college ball here at Arizona?”

“I'm interested in playing ball at any school that might want me,” I answered.

“Well, I don't want you talking to any other schools, West,” he said, smiling. “I don't want you playing for any school that wants you. I want you playing for Arizona.”

My stomach jumped. Arizona wanted me to play for them. I could play again. For a big time program. My thoughts rocketed back to the end of my junior year when the offer came in from Stanford. The excitement I'd felt that summer, the belief that my future had officially been secured—I was gonna play ball and get a great education to fall back on. And then it had all gone to shit.

I came back to reality in a hurry. My scholarship at Stanford had been partial. I'd lost any hope of paying for tuition when my dad had gone down with the gambling/embezzlement fiasco. Two years later, I was no closer to having saved enough money to pay for any kind of tuition at any school. Including Arizona.

I swallowed hard. “Okay,” I said. “I'm not really sure what to say here, Coach. Because I want to be honest with you. My scholarship at Stanford didn't happen because it was partial and I wasn't able to come up with the remaining tuition. Right now, I'm working part-time at a baseball academy and I'm going to school full-time. I haven't saved enough money to cover any school expenses. Yet. I'm hoping that in a year...”

Coach Childs held up a hand and I closed my mouth.

“West, I'm sorry,” he said, still smiling. “I wasn't clear. If you can tell me that you'll ignore those pro scouts and not take visits to any other schools, I'm prepared to offer you a full scholarship.”

I stared blankly at Coach Childs, my mouth open.

“That's tuition, books, living expenses, the whole deal,” Childs said, leaning on the desk. “Full ride, no strings.” He smiled. “Other than you come here and mash that ball like you did yesterday.”

I tried to clear my throat so I could speak but my mouth was dry. I coughed and finally managed to speak. “Full ride?”

He nodded. “Full ride, West. Arizona wants you and we're offering you a full ride.”

SEVENTEEN

Abby wasn't in the casita when I returned.

But Annika was. She was stretched out on the couch again, a paperback romance in her hands. She wore a white bikini top and denim shorts that seemed to expose more than they covered.

“Did Casper go with you?” she asked.

I ignored her and dropped the car keys on the dining room table. I fished my phone out of my pocket to text Abby.

“You're as white as a sheet,” Annika continued. “Again.”

I didn't doubt it. I'd driven home from the university in a daze, trying to comprehend what Coach Childs had told me, trying to get a grip on just how quickly everything had changed. I'd come to Arizona for a vacation with my girlfriend's family and somehow it had morphed into the opportunity of a lifetime. The opportunity to get a four-year degree from a good school and play ball for a great college team. After that? Who knew? But I was pretty sure, based on the texts and phone calls that kept coming in—and that I kept refusing to answer—that I had a future playing ball. Professional ball. But I wasn't sure it was an opportunity I was willing to take.

Because of Abby.

My phone vibrated. It was Abby, texting me back.

I'm at the pool.

I walked back to the bedroom, peeling the polo shirt off as I walked. I swung the door shut and stripped out of my shorts, reaching for my swim trunks. I had one foot in when the door flew open.

Annika grinned and covered her mouth with her hand. “Oh. Sorry.”

I turned so my ass was facing her. “Jesus, Annika. Knock much?” I pulled the trunks up and tied the drawstring.

“Not like I haven't seen it before.” She paused, then smiled seductively. “Or tasted it.”

My temper flared and I spun around and marched toward her. Everything I was feeling—about school, about baseball, about Abby—exploded and she was the closest outlet. Her eyes widened as she backed up against the wall.

“What the fuck do you want?” I asked. “You want to fuck your sister's boyfriend? Is that it?” I braced both arms against the wall, trapping her.

She bit her lip and looked at me but said nothing.

“Well, guess what?” I sneered. “I'm not interested. Not now. Not ever. So stop fucking following me around. Stop getting in my way and throwing yourself at me. Because I'll drag your ass down to that pool and make you tell Abby—and your parents—just what you've been doing. Again.”

“I don't want you,” she said, spitting the words at me.

“Then stop parading yourself around and acting like you do.” I looked her up and down with contempt. “It's embarrassing. And pathetic.” I dropped my arms and walked out of the bedroom, not bothering to look back.

“I don't want you, West Montgomery,” she called, her voice angry.

I turned around and stared at her. “No? Then what is this, Annika? Tell me. What the hell are you trying to do here?”

“I don't know what you're talking about--”

But I didn't let her finish. “You waltz around half-naked. You get in the way of me and Abby. And then you waltz in on me, naked.What the hell am I supposed to think?”

She stood in the doorway of the bedroom she was sharing with Abby—the same bedroom I'd slept in when we'd first gotten there—and stared at me. There was that look on her face again, the same look she'd worn when I'd first confronted her on the sidewalk outside of the pool.

“What?” I snapped.

“I don't know how to be,” she said, her voice soft.

I folded my arms across my chest and stared hard at her.

“I don't know how to be,” she repeated. “I'm trying.”

“Trying to do what?” I asked. “Piss me off? Get me to sleep with you? Convince your sister to forget the truce and go back to hating your guts? You've got two out of three pretty much nailed. And fucking me isn't one of them.”

She winced. “That's not what I meant.” She sighed and brought her finger to her mouth. Absently, she began to chew on her nail. “I don't want Abby to hate me. Or you.”

“No?” I laughed harshly. “You're not doing a very good job in that department.”

Before she could say anything else, I stormed out. She didn't say anything and she didn't follow me. I inhaled deeply as I stepped outside, the heat of the day slamming into me. I'd been a complete and total asshole to Abby's sister. Again. Not that she didn't deserve it but I knew the real reason I'd lashed out at her. And it had nothing to do with her probing questions or her walking in on me naked. I could handle Annika.

What I couldn't handle was the conversation I'd just had with Coach Childs.

My steps, painfully slow, didn't match my breathing as I headed toward the pool. The sun beat down on me, the breeze nonexistent. I could hear people at the pool—kids splashing and shrieking in the water, the low murmur of other voices. I knew it would be packed down there. And I knew Abby would want a full report of my meeting. Her parents, too.

I tried to take a couple of deep breaths, get myself under control, but it didn't help. All I could think about was what I was being offered. And what was at stake. Take the offer from Arizona and play ball, be in a good position to move to playing professionally after graduating. But leave Abby. Turn down Coach Childs and head back to San Diego, back to fucking Mesa and coaching kids at the Academy. But stay with Abby.

There were other variables to consider but, when push came to shove, that was pretty much what it boiled down to. I gulped more air and swallowed it down, trying to calm my racing pulse.

I knew what my heart wanted.

I just wasn't sure my head was in full agreement.