Loving Skye: Book Three (The Texas Star Series 3) Page 8

  Just one big question: Will I be able to play volleyball this year?

  Dr. Pike nodded. “Let me check you out first, and then I’ll say what I’m thinking.”

  Liz pulled her phone out and started tapping on it while Dr. Pike moved my leg through a series of stretches and strength tests we’d done at other appointments. Sometimes I could tell a big difference from the previous exercises, and sometimes it felt the same.

  When he patted my leg and said we were done, I sat up, half eager, half terrified to hear the prognosis.

  “How do you feel about running?” Dr. Pike asked.

  I snorted. “My real feelings?”

  He laughed. “Spoken like a true weightlifter.”

  I smiled, waiting.

  “I think you’re ready to start jogging. Start with shorter distances and work your way up. When I see you next month, I want you to be able to run a mile without stopping.”

  My knee hurt already, but I nodded. “And you think I’ll be ready when volleyball starts?”

  “When’s your first practice?”

  “August fifteenth.”

  A smile deepened the wrinkles around his eyes. “Stick with your exercises, and definitely.”

  I squealed and hugged him. Literally hugged the guy in the white coat. And his stethoscope pressed into my chest. I backed off. “Sorry! I’m just so…” I squealed again and hugged Liz where she sat in her chair. “Thank you!”

  He patted my shoulder. “Thank yourself. You put in the work, and you’re seeing the rewards.”

  Liz and I went to the lobby where I scheduled another appointment for a month out, and we walked to the parking lot. It was hard to be on cloud nine with her constantly wringing her hands and chewing on the edges of her fingernails until they bled.

  I took her hand in mine. I wanted to tell her everything would be alright, but we were both beyond that. Sometimes, things weren’t alright. We just had to deal with them. But I hoped she knew I’d help her with whatever I could.

  She gave me directions to the free clinic, and I sat with her in the waiting room while she filled out the paperwork. I wondered if she was as on edge as I was by all the kids in there. They were playing with the doctor’s office toys while their parents waited in the chairs. Every now and then, one of the kids would scream or let out a peal of laughter.

  “Gray?”

  Liz stood up, and I stared at her. That was her new last name?

  She looked back at me. “You coming?”

  Hurriedly, I nodded and followed them back. After they took her weight, we went back to a dingy room. I’d never been to a free clinic before, but this looked sad compared to the bright hospital we were just in.

  “How are you feeling?” I asked.

  With her lips pressed together, she shook her head. “Nervous.”

  I moved to stand next to the exam table and put my hand on her wrist. “I just want you to know I’m here for you. Whatever happens.”

  She twisted her wrist and gripped my fingers. “Thank you.”

  We stood like that, quietly holding hands, until a doctor came into the room. She asked Liz all sorts of questions—when her last period was, if she’d had any discharge, whether she was having any nausea. Finally, the inquisition ended, and she started telling Liz about all the vitamins she should take and foods she shouldn’t be eating. Luckily, chili wasn’t on the list.

  The doctor wrote a final note in her file. “I’m going to send you over for an ultrasound, and then you’ll be good to go.”

  We walked down the hallway to the new office, and Liz went to change while I waited with the radiologist, staring at the blank ultrasound screen. In a little while, Liz’s baby would be on that monitor. We’d be able to see it, maybe hear a heartbeat. It wasn’t even happening to me, and I had to take deep breaths to get my heart rate back to normal.

  Liz walked in wearing a hospital gown, pinching the back together. If no one else was around and I wasn’t so freaked out, I might have giggled.

  The ultra-sonographer pulled out a giant wand and lubricant, and my eyes went wide. I knew what that was for, and I didn’t want to stick around for it. What happened to the belly jelly?

  “Hey, Liz, I can wait in the lobby?”

  She gripped my forearm. “Will you stay?”

  Pressing my lips together, I nodded. I tried not to focus on what was going on or how the black and white image popped onto the screen, just watched as it focused in on a little something…

  Liz gasped. “It looks like a bean.”

  The woman maneuvering the wand smiled at Liz. “It kind of does.”

  I stared at it, eyes wide. And the only thing that came to mind was “chili bean.”

  A smile touched Liz’s wavering lips, and she leaned against my arm. “That’s my baby.”

  Liz and I left Austin with two pieces of good news, but only one I could tell Mom and Dad.

  Chapter Twenty

  Mom and Dad acted happy about my knee, but Liz refused to tell them about her chili bean. That night, I took a walk down the road, pulled out my phone, and did research on my own. I knew her husband’s first name, but up until today, I hadn’t known his last name. Liz only had Facebook Messenger—had deleted her profile, so I couldn’t even see pictures from their wedding or anything.

  But now that I knew more, it was easy to find the musician named Dorian Gray, and to start off, I just wanted to say, well, good job, Liz. He was good-looking in that brooding, sexy, hasn’t-showered-in-a-couple-days kind of way. At least, that’s what his Facebook page with thousands of followers portrayed.

  Dorian Gray wasn’t super famous, but people commented on all of his videos. He had a website. Tickets to his gigs cost like twenty or thirty dollars. The one on my birthday was the last he had in Texas until November. Most of the dates were in California. He must have been good to have an actual tour lined up.

  I looked around, even though I was at least a quarter mile from the nearest house, then played the video on his latest status.

  He was good. The song kind of sounded like a mix of something by Mumford and Sons and Twenty-One Pilots. But it was the lyrics that touched my heart—he sang of love and loss and missing the other half of his soul. And then, at the end of the song, he looked straight into the camera and said, “Liz, I love you, I miss you. Please. Call me.”

  I walked home trying to think of a way to talk Liz into at least calling him, but I couldn’t. I just had to be honest with her about what I’d seen.

  The door to our room was cracked open, and I peeked in. Liz lay in her bed, holding up the sonogram picture of her little chili bean. Her face was a mixture of awe and remorse. I almost felt like I was watching her exposed, so I took a few steps back, then approached the room again, louder this time.

  When I walked in, the picture was nowhere to be seen.

  “Hey,” she said.

  “Hey.” I went to my bed and sat down on the edge, looking straight at her. I had to get this out. “Liz, I looked up your husband online, and he misses you. I think you should tell him what’s going on.”

  There it was. All laid out, but now Liz had to do something with it.

  She didn’t sit up, just lay on the bed, staring straight at the ceiling with her lips in a hard line. “Why should I tell him? So I can raise my baby in a tour van? Skye, we don’t even have toilets in that thing. We have to stop at stores and use their bathrooms. We shower at truck stops. Do you think that’s the kind of life I want for my baby? For Dorian?”

  “But is that what you want? To keep your baby away from its father? To stay away from a guy who loves you?”

  Liz closed her eyes hard, and tears dripped down the side of her face. “Skye, you don’t even know what love is.”

  I gritted my teeth. “Try me.”

  Her chest lifted and fell with a breath so heavy, the whole world could have been resting on her. “Love is…making sure that the other person is happy, even if you can’t be. His music is just start
ing to take off, and this, our baby, would take him away from his dreams.”

  “Maybe he would have a new dream?”

  Liz shook her head. “He might try and tell himself that. But in five years, ten years, he’ll regret it. He’ll resent us. That would be even worse than living without him.”

  It all felt so wrong. Shouldn’t he have a choice in this? “How will you know if you don’t ask him?”

  “Did you ever hear how Mom and Dad got together?”

  I nodded. The story wasn’t really that romantic, though. “They met over harvest in Nebraska, liked each other, started dating.”

  “Ever wonder why neither of them finished college?”

  I shrugged. “It’s kind of hard to go to class with a baby on your hip.” Yet another reason I wanted to wait.

  “Exactly,” Liz said. “They both gave up their dreams to have me. And do they look happy now?”

  I couldn’t answer, because I knew it would support her self-imposed martyrdom. I couldn’t give up on her and Dorian, though. “Is it just the tour bus that’s stopping you?”

  Liz didn’t answer.

  “Don’t you guys have anything saved?”

  She sighed. “We were saving for a new RV, and we were getting close to buying one, but a baby too…It’s a lot.”

  The wheels in my mind were already turning. “So it’s just money.”

  Liz scoffed. “Just money.” But she didn’t disagree.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  “Let Liz and I enter the contest,” I said Saturday morning.

  Mom and Dad looked between each other. “Is that even allowed?”

  Liz looked at me, confused.

  I shrugged. “I don’t see why not. We could bring that other chili recipe. Double our chances, you know?”

  Mom nodded. “It couldn’t hurt, right, Bill?”

  “It’s on.” Dad grinned. “But you guys have to make it yourselves.”

  “Deal.”

  We spent the morning cooking. Well, Liz ducked in and out while I cooked because of her morning sickness, but finally, we had two slow cookers loaded into the car and ready to go to Woodman.

  I was excited for tonight—Mom and Dad had agreed to let me stay after the cook-off with Andrew and have him drive me home with a midnight curfew. That meant we’d have at least six hours on our own.

  Me: Can’t wait for later. :)

  It took about fifteen minutes for Andrew to text back.

  Andrew: Me either. Prepare for the best date ever.

  Me: Jeez. What took you so long?

  Andrew: Sorry. :/ I have tons of stuff to do. My family’s kind of the main volunteers here.

  Me: I see. You’re rigging the contest. ;)

  Andrew: I never!

  Me: Uh huh

  Andrew: You dishonor me.

  Me: Dishonor on you. Dishonor on your cow. Dishonor on your family.

  Andrew: Are you quoting Mulan?

  Me: That’s beside the point.

  Me: Don’t you have volunteering to do?

  Andrew: See you soon. :)

  My family arrived and got set up, and Andrew wasn’t kidding about being busy. He barely had a second to say hello before he was off helping someone with a table or setting up score cards or checking people in. But I still had fun trying all of the chilis and guessing who would win. I had my bets on a close contest between Brindon Chili Co., Hoffner Chili Group, and The Chili Beans.

  Liz and I didn’t have time for fancy shirts, so she’d just marked up a couple old tees with a permanent marker, but still. We were going with it.

  While we waited for awards, Liz came to stand next to me, her arm around my shoulders. “I know what you’re doing.”

  My heart dropped. “What do you mean?”

  “Trying to win the chili competition to make some extra money?”

  I swallowed. “So?”

  “I think we’re going to need more than five hundred dollars.”

  “I—”

  The announcer’s voice came over the speakers. “Hello, chili lovers! Let’s get these awards underway before we start dealing with the after-effects of a good pot of chili.”

  Liz put her hand to her forehead. “Seriously?”

  I giggled. “Gross.”

  “We had some stunning recipes today! I’d never heard of Hawaiian chili before, but I’m definitely getting that recipe.”

  “Slop,” Liz muttered.

  “Yep.” Cutting up ham and slow cooking it with pineapple chunks and Swiss cheese shouldn’t qualify as chili.

  “We had a close contest this time, with first, second, and third being separated by one vote each.”

  I tapped my foot. “Get on with it already.”

  Liz laughed. “Right?”

  “In third place, The Chili Beans.”

  Liz looked at me and shrugged, then made a war cry and ran toward the stage, pumping her fist in the air.

  Blushing, I followed her to claim our hundred bucks and the trophy.

  “In second place, Brindon Chili Company!”

  Andrew’s eyes locked with mine on his way to the stage. Something about his gaze caught me and rocked me, like I was lying down in a hammock, peaceful at last. Those eyes, and the person they belonged to, came to stand next to me on stage.

  He stuck out his hand. “Third place isn’t bad. I mean, not as good as second, but…”

  I rolled my eyes but shook it, getting lost in the way his hand cushioned mine, warmed it.

  “And in first place, Hoffner Chili Group!”

  Liz and I cheered for Mom and Dad. They walked to the stage, looking almost like normal awkward parents in their matching shirts and faded jeans. On stage, they slapped each other a high-five, then took their trophy and the first-place check.

  I wished I could freeze this moment forever, Mom and Dad happy, Liz and I on a team, and Andrew cheering us on, but I knew it couldn’t last. Because I’d have to be the one to ruin it.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  After helping my family clean up, I left to the bathroom to brush my teeth and spray on perfume—chili breath and odor wasn’t exactly an aphrodisiac. But then again, this was Andrew. We met by his car. He’d swapped his Brindon Chili Co. shirt for a tight-fitting T-shirt that hugged his arms. Working at a landscaping company over the summer had really done him well.

  I whistled at him. “Who’s that hottie?”

  He put his flat hands over his eyes like he was blocking the sun and looked around as if he didn’t know who I was talking about.

  “Stop.” I rolled my eyes. “You know it’s you.”

  When I got close enough, he linked his arms around my waist. “You look pretty good yourself.”

  His eyes went to my mouth, and even though we were in a parking lot and there were still people around, I closed the gap. Our lips touched, sending heat through my body, and my heart pounded against my ribcage, fighting to get closer to his.

  Too soon, we broke apart.

  “I don’t want to get too carried away,” he said. “I have something planned.”

  “What’s that?”

  The mischievous smile on his lips fired off warning signals—the exciting kind. I raised my eyebrows.

  “You’ll have to wait and see.” He opened the car door for me, and we drove until he parked in front of a thrift store, then he pulled out his phone and called someone.

  “What is—”

  He held up his finger. “Big Bird, phase one has commenced. Tell Spotty we’re a go.”

  Okay, none of my guesses had included Andrew using a sexy, pseudo-spy voice.

  He hung up and gave me a serious stare. “Are you ready for the best night of your life?”

  I kept a straight face and quirked an eyebrow. “Can you ever be?”

  He smiled, then leaned across the console and touched his lips to mine. Even the short peck left me wanting more.

  “Okay,” he said and handed me a bill. “Here’s ten dollars. Go pick out an outfit—s
omething old-timey.”

  “And what are you going to do?”

  “That’s for me to know and you to find out.” His secretive grin was really starting to turn me on. “Spotty will be here to pick you up in T-minus twenty minutes.”

  “Should I be concerned?”

  He barely broke character. “Absolutely not. Spotty has specific instructions to bring you to Phase Two safe and sound.”

  I giggled and gave him a skeptical look but got out of the car. “See you soon, Operative.”

  He lifted his chin. “It’s Lovestruck. Agent Lovestruck.”

  He pulled out of the parking lot before I had a chance to process that. Lovestruck?

  As I sifted through clothing racks in the musty shop, I thought of all the things that could mean. Was Agent Lovestruck…love struck?

  I shoved the thought out of my mind and took a dress that had to be from the fifties back to the dressing room. The thin cotton material was deep blue, had gold buttons all the way down the front, and had shoulder pads. Actually, it looked pretty good on me—bringing out my eyes and making my waist look narrow in comparison to my shoulders and hips. This was the one.

  I picked up a big, flowery hat and a brooch on my way to the register and checked out with a dollar to spare. Thrift shopping wasn’t anything new to me, but this was the first time I’d had so much fun doing it.

  I changed into the outfit in the dressing room, then walked outside and sat on a bench. People walked by, sometimes giving me awkward stares, but I didn’t see any that looked like Spotty…whatever Spotty would look like.

  A really tall, skinny kid dressed in all black and covered in freckles walked toward me.

  “Spotty?”

  He nodded. “Roger that.”

  He extended his elbow, and I stared at it.

  Quietly, he said, “Take my arm.”

  I laughed, taken off guard by the whole deal. This would be something to tell our children.

  My eyes flew open. Had I just thought about future children? We weren’t even labeling things yet! I didn’t have a high school diploma. Or a scholarship lined up. If my debate partner, Reese, was around, he’d say something like, Get a grip, Hoffner. Ugh. When had Reese became the know-it-all voice in my head?