“What if I get caught looking?”
I place my hand on his shoulder. “I’m not going to tell you this is going to be okay because I don’t know if it will.”
“Geez. Thanks.”
“But I do know one thing for a fact. Regardless of whether you play baseball or if you have to figure out something else, you’re going to do it with all of us behind you. And while that doesn’t help in a lot of ways—you still have to figure things out yourself—you won’t have to do it alone. You have a tribe of brothers and sisters behind you to help you along the way, just like you all came to bat for me this week.”
His lips quirk. “So if I call you and need a job in the Governor’s Mansion, you’re fine with that? You’ll let me be your Director of Sports or something?”
“There is no such thing,” I groan, starting back to the house again.
“Maybe it’s something we can start.”
“Maybe we concentrate on getting you rehabbed so we aren’t trying to fit you in the Governor’s Mansion, all right?”
His grin is back in full force. “Barrett?”
“Yeah?”
“Thanks.”
Glancing at him over my shoulder, we start up the steps. “That’s what family’s for.”
Alison
THE CLOCK CHANGES TO THREE o'clock in the morning. The party has dwindled down, all that's left of the celebration is a tremendous mess that someone’s going to have to clean up later.
Huxley went to bed hours ago. Harris and Vivian left around one, escorted home by Troy.
Lincoln is lying on the sofa, his Tennessee Arrows hat pulled down over his eyes, snoring away. His right arm is draped across his body, his left hand on his right shoulder. I catch Barrett watching him.
"What's wrong?" I ask.
"Nothing, really."
"You're lying."
Barrett grins. "Lincoln's arm is fucked up worse than he's letting on. He has some major therapy to do coming up and if it doesn't get better, he might not get re-signed."
"Oh, Barrett." My heart pulls for Linc.
"It sucks. It's all he's ever wanted to do. He's had a ball in his hand since he could pick it up. He could rattle off stats as soon as he could talk."
"Can we help?"
"No. He has to do what the doctors say and hope he didn't completely ruin his shoulder."
“I’ll say a prayer for him.”
I look around the room, but we are the only ones left. Ford, the responsible one, went to bed upstairs with his dog. Graham headed home first, right around midnight, with a look of pure satisfaction on his face. Harris is the one that praised Barrett the most tonight, but I secretly think it's Graham that's the most proud.
Camilla left, escorted by a friend of their family just a few minutes ago. Barrett glared at the guy all night, so I'm not sure if he's going to be around much longer. Sienna is the only Landry, besides Barrett, still awake and she's sitting on the back porch with Lola, comparing tattoos the last time I eavesdropped. They have the same eclectic taste, the same free-spirited mentality. They’ve hung out together all night.
The excitement of the last few days has taken its toll and I feel completely exhausted. My bones hurt, much to my surprise. I'm utterly spent. The mixture of emotions, the worry, anxiety, pride, anger, fear have all sapped my energy, and I'm left standing in the living room of the Farm trying to figure out what's next.
Barrett comes up behind me, his arms wrapping around my waist. I tilt my head to the side automatically, and his lips find my ear.
"Ready to go to bed?" he asks, kissing me right behind my lobe. He’s chewing on the inside of his cheek, a tell-tale sign that he’s feeling me out. He’s waiting on me to make the next move. But I don’t know which move to make.