It Was Me Read online

  My finger hovered over the number.

  But a knock on the door stopped me.

  I set the phone down on the coffee table and went to answer it.

  Annika frowned at me when I opened the door. “Took you long enough.”

  “What are you doing here?” I asked, sighing.

  “That's not a very pleasant way to say hello.”

  “Sue me.”

  “Perhaps someday,” she asked. “Can I come in for a minute?”

  “No. I think we covered that.”

  “West, come on.”

  “I'm serious.”

  She pushed her sunglasses up on her head. “I'm serious, too. I want to talk to you and I don't want to stand in your doorway to do it.”

  I flashed back to the only other time she'd been in my home. “No.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Look, I'll stay like ten feet away, alright? I'll keep my hands where you can see them. Jesus. Come on.”

  I didn't say anything.

  A sly smile crept onto her lips. “Or maybe you don't trust yourself.”

  “You're right,” I said. “I don't trust myself to keep my hands off your throat and choke the shit out of you.”

  “Kinky.”

  “Shut up.”

  “Are you gonna let me in or are we gonna keep doing the witty repartee thing here?” she asked, frowning.

  I sighed again and stepped to the side so she could come in.

  She stood in the middle of the living room, her hands on her hips. “You need a maid.”

  I shut the door. “What do you want, Annika?”

  She turned to face me. “I need to give you something.”

  “The last time you were here and gave me something, it nearly cost me your sister.”

  She winced. “I'm aware. And now I'm trying to make sure you don't lose her.”

  I didn't want to be curious, but I was and I couldn't hide it. “How's that?”

  She reached in the big leather bag over her shoulder, fished inside of it and pulled out a piece of paper. “With this.”

  “What is it?”

  She held it out to me and wiggled it in the air. Reluctantly, I reached out and took it from her.

  “A phone number?” I asked, confused. “What the hell is this?”

  “There's also a name, genius.”

  I looked at the sheet. Scrawled under the number was the name John Winfield.

  “Some guy give this to you last night at a bar or what?” I asked, still not understanding.

  She sat down on the coffee table, crossing her legs and folding her arms across her chest. “Have you ever tried not being a wiseass?”

  “I did but it didn't take.”

  “No shit,” she said, shaking her head. “Look, Abby is a mess.”

  “Well, that's her choice. It's not mine.”

  “I know that,” she said. “So I'm trying to fix it.”

  “That'd be a first.”

  “Right?” She smiled at me. “I'm trying to see what a good deed feels like.”

  “Foreign. I'd guess it would feel foreign.”

  “Ha. Well, I'm tired of her mopey ass around the house and honestly, so are my parents.”

  A small part of me was happy that Abby was moping and miserable. It at least confirmed to me that she did actually love me.

  “And she's not going to be any help with Mom when...you know,” she said, looking away. “If she's like this, she's not going to be able to help anyone.”

  I didn't say anything.

  “So I'm trying to fix it,” she said.

  I held up the paper. “With some random dude's phone number.”

  “Honest to God, you are dumber than concrete,” she said, rolling her eyes. She pointed at the sheet. “Do you know him?”

  I looked at the number and name again. “No.”

  “He's a baseball coach. At USD.”

  “Good for him.”

  “You need to call him.”

  “Why?”

  “Uh, because he's a baseball coach and you're supposedly a baseball player.”

  I held the sheet out to her. “No thanks.”

  She refused to take it and looked at me, as pissed as I'd ever seen her. “What do you mean no thanks?”

  “I mean I'm not gonna cold call some baseball coach,” I said. “I see where you're going here and that's not how it works. You don't just call up coaches and say 'Hey, can I come play at your school?'” I shook the sheet. “So no thanks.”

  She stared at me for a moment. “How the hell did anyone so dumb get into Stanford? Did you fuck the admissions chick?”

  “Go to hell.”

  She pointed at the sheet. “He's expecting you to call, dumbass!”

  I looked at her, then at the sheet, then back at her again.

  “What?” she asked. “Nothing witty to say now?”

  “I don't understand.”

  She sighed and it was as if she was having to explain the alphabet to me. “There's a guy that I know that plays for USD. Corey Arnold. I got the name from him. I got him to talk to his coach about you. I believe they may have looked up your statistics or some shit like that that would absolutely bore me to death. All I know is that after I fucked Corey's brains out, he went and talked to his coach about you and apparently the coach knows who you are and wants to talk to you.” She leaned forward. “About playing baseball, West. Here. In San Diego.”

  I blinked several times, my eyes moving back and forth between her and the paper. “Why?”

  “Well, I guess it's because they think you're good or something,” she said, holding up her hands in bewilderment. “I have no idea. I mean, I'm sure I had a little something to do with it because Corey certainly enjoyed when I...”

  “No,” I said. “I mean why are you doing this?”

  She suddenly became fascinated with one of her fingernails, staring at it intently. Finally, she lifted her head and offered a small smile. “Because my sister is a wreck,” she said. “An absolute wreck. And no matter what's gone on between us, I don't like seeing her like this.” She shrugged. “So I thought I'd try to fix it.”

  I didn't know what to say or what to think. It was the last thing I was expecting.

  She stood and adjusted the massive purse on her arm. “Do you remember when I told you in Tucson that sometimes...sometimes I'm not really sure how to be?” She bit her bottom lip, then shook her head. “This is one of those moments, I guess. This is new territory for me. I'm trying to do the right thing. So I'm not really sure if it is. I just thought you might want to talk to the guy.”

  We stood there awkwardly for a moment, then she shrugged and walked past me to the door. I heard her open it and I finally managed to turn around.

  “Annika,” I said.

  She stopped, but didn't turn around.

  “Thank you,” I said. “I...thank you.”

  “There's no promises,” she said, still staring at the street. “I don't know what he'll tell you. But maybe it's something.”

  “I know,” I said. “But...thank you.”

  She turned around and I was surprised to see tears in her eyes.

  “You're welcome,” she said. “You giant dumbass.”

  I smiled. “Bitch.”

  She smiled back at me and dropped her sunglasses over her eyes. “That's more like it.”

  FORTY TWO

  I tugged on the aluminum foil that covered the tray of brownies in the passenger seat of my truck.

  I was sitting in front of the Sellers house and making sure the foil was tight over the new batch of brownies I'd brought over. These, so far, had managed not to hit the wall. It had been two days since Annika had showed up at my house with a lifeline and I'd taken a bunch of deep breaths, made several phone calls and now I was ready to talk to Abby.

  Whether she wanted to or not.

  I grabbed the metal pan and headed up the walk to the house, my stomach knotted up for reasons I wasn't entirely sure of. I stuck my finger on
the doorbell and waited.

  Mr. Sellers seemed surprised to see me. “West.”

  “Hi,” I said. I held up the tray. “I brought these for your wife.”

  He pushed open the screen door and took the tray. “That's incredibly kind of you. Thank you.”

  “The ones I brought over the other day...sort of didn't make it,” I said. “These are fresh.”

  “Abby said you were quite the cook,” he said, smiling. “Thank you.”

  “How is she doing?” I asked, then added “Mrs. Sellers, I mean.”

  He nodded, lines forming at his eyes. “Okay, I suppose. As well as can be expected. Not a lot of energy and doesn't feel great, but she's getting through it. We're getting through it.”

  “Good,” I said. “I'm glad.”

  He nodded. “Me, too.” He glanced over his shoulder, then stepped outside, letting the door close behind him. “You have a second?”

  “Sure.”

  He shifted the pan from one hand to the other. “The other day when you came over. It was awkward, to say the least, and I wanted to apologize.”

  “You don't have to. It's alright.”

  “It wasn't alright,” he said, shaking his head. “All of this got dropped in the girls' laps pretty fast and it ended up getting dropped on you, too, and that wasn't right. There just isn't a roadmap for this kind of thing, unfortunately.”

  “I understand. Really.”

  He cleared his throat. “But I wanted you to know that this has nothing to do with you. If everything was normal, I'd have no problem letting Abby go to Arizona. Both her mother and I like you very much. It has nothing to do with you and I don't want you thinking otherwise.”

  “You don't owe me an explanation.”

  “But you can't plan for this kind of thing,” he said, ignoring me. “And no matter what her mother says, I know she wants Abby here. For all kinds of reasons.”

  “I don't blame her. At all.”

  He nodded, finally acknowledging that I'd spoken. “Thank you. For understanding. I just really wanted you to know that if the circumstances were different, I'd have no objection to her going to Tucson. We truly do like you and appreciate how you treat Abby. And...I just wanted you know that. Probably doesn't mean much now, but I wanted you to know.”

  I appreciated him saying everything he said, but now it just felt awkward standing there with him and I didn't want to say anything to him until I'd spoken to Abby.

  “I understand,” I finally said. “But I appreciate you saying it. So thanks.”

  He nodded.

  “And this is where I ask if Abby's at home?” I asked.

  He nodded again, like he knew the question was coming. “She is. But I'm not sure...” He stopped and shook his head. “I'm not exactly sure what to do here, West.”

  I started to say something, but the door behind him opened and Annika popped out on the steps behind him.

  “Dad,” she said, glancing first at me, then him. “Mom is asking for you. I can talk to West.”

  He handed the tray to Annika and hustled inside without saying another word.

  She looked at the brownies. “I don't get the baking thing. Guys normally eat rather than cook.”

  “I'm incredibly talented.”

  “Or in the closet,” she said.

  “Is your sister around?” I asked.

  “Yep.”

  We stood there.

  “I'm waiting for you to thank me one more time before I let you in to see her,” she said, smiling at me.

  “Is this how it's always gonna be from now on?”

  “Most likely. Assuming she hasn't come to her senses and still wants to be with you.”

  “I'm not sure I like that.”

  “I'm not sure I care.” Her smile widened. “Thank me and you can see your true love.”

  I shook my head. “Thank you.”

  She pulled the door open and leaned her head toward the house. “You know the way.”

  FORTY THREE

  The door to her room was closed and I knocked.

  “Come in,” she said.

  I opened the door and she was sitting on her bed, her back against the headboard, her knees up, her phone in her hands. Her hair was pulled back away from her face and she looked like she hadn't slept in a couple of weeks. She had on a pair of gray gym shorts and one of my old T-shirts.

  She looked up from the phone and her features froze. “Hi.”

  “Hi,” I said. “Annika let me in. Okay if I come in?”

  She hesitated, then nodded.

  I stepped into her room and closed the door behind me. It was a strange feeling, not knowing what exactly to say to her. Normally, I didn't even have to think about what came out of my mouth, but now I was all nervous and anxious.

  “I saw your dad,” I said. “He said your mom is doing okay.”

  She nodded. “I guess. She was pretty sick, but she hates everyone fussing over her. But the doctor said it went well for the first time around.”

  I nodded. I wanted to go sit down on the edge of her bed, but I wasn't sure if she was comfortable with that. So I grabbed the chair at her desk, spun it around backwards and sat down on it near the foot of her bed.

  “You make any decisions yet?” she asked quietly.

  “Actually, I did.”

  My response caught her by surprise and she couldn't hide it. She set the phone down and hugged her knees. “And?”

  “And I called Coach Childs at Arizona and told him I'm not coming,” I said.

  Her face darkened. “Are you fucking kidding me?”

  “Nope.”

  Her fists balled up around her knees. “You're being so stupid.”

  “Maybe.”

  The corners of her mouth twitched and her jaw set. “Well, you can do what you want. But I meant what I said. Even if you stay, we aren't going to be together.”

  I chuckled. “You know that's the dumbest fucking thing you've ever said, right?”

  Her eyes flared with anger. “Excuse me?”

  “I won't excuse you,” I said. “Because I mean it. It's fucking dumb to think we could stay apart.”

  “So, what?” she asked. “Is this like a dare or something? You told Arizona no just to test me?” She shook her head, disgusted. “I hate to tell you, West, but I meant it. And if you just threw away an opportunity because you wanted to see if I really meant it, then...”

  “Would you just shut up for a minute?” I interrupted.

  She widened her eyes and sat back against the headboard, like she couldn't believe the words that were coming out of my mouth.

  “You think you know everything,” I said. “And you think you can just make decisions for me or force me into making the decision you want me to make. But you haven't even asked why the hell I'm here.” I shook my head. “So before you start telling me how stupid I am, maybe you should listen to me for just a minute. Then you can call me stupid if you want.”

  Her cheeks flushed pink and her cheeks pinched inward, a sure sign that she was biting the inside of them.

  “Fine,” she mumbled. “Why are you here?”

  “I'm here because of Annika,” I said.

  Her cheeks unpinched and her jaw dropped. “What?”

  “I'm here because of your sister,” I repeated.

  She squinted at me. “Am I in the twilight zone or what?”

  “Yes. Pretty sure that's where we've all been the last couple of weeks.”

  “Why the hell are you here to see Annika?”

  I shook my head. “I'm not here to see her. Give me some credit. I'm here because of her.”

  “I'm totally confused.”

  “Yeah, well, welcome to my world,” I muttered. “That's where I've been since you decided you knew what was best for me. Without consulting me.”

  Her cheeks flushed redder and she started to speak but I held up my hand to stop her. I fished in my shorts pocket and withdrew a weathered sheet of paper. I tossed it in her directi
on and it landed on her bed, right next to her feet.

  “What's that?”

  “The reason I'm here,” I told her. “The reason I told Coach Childs no. The reason I'm staying here.” I hesitated. “Wait. That's not true.”

  She raised her eyebrows, the paper untouched on the bed.

  “I'm staying here because of you,” I told her. “Because even though you tried to royally fuck us up, I decided not to let you.”

  She reached for the paper and brought it to her lap. Slowly, she unfolded it. She scanned it, then looked at me. “What is this?”

  “My chance to play baseball. Here in San Diego. With you.”

  “What?” she asked. Her voice was unsteady, filled with disbelief. “How?”

  “Let's just say that having a whore for a sister appears to have some advantages.” She narrowed her eyes and I smiled. “It's a long story but your sister apparently has an in with the coach at USD.”

  “USD? They have a baseball team?”