He did. Hopefully he would. All the guys in the family were huge, and he didn’t want to be the runt of the family like Aunt Taran.
“Did you put kale in mine?” Aly came in, frowning. She was wearing the team T-shirt and one of his dad’s coaching jackets, along with two buttons with Andy’s picture on them.
“No, Al. I know you’ll only drink it if it’s berries and yogurt.” His dad slid the smoothie that was not green across the counter.
When she reached for the glass, Andy’s heart stopped. He stared, wide eyed, at the ring on her finger. He shot an accusing glare at his dad; he hadn’t even told him.
“She doesn’t need to grow, dude. You do,” his dad told him when he caught sight of him.
“No, it’s not that. You asked her to marry you and you didn’t tell me? And she said yes? You didn’t tell me that either. You promised you would tell me.”
Andy frowned as confusion spread over his dad’s face. But when his dad fixated on Aly’s hand, he looked happier than Andy had ever seen him. Happier than when Andy had won states and qualified for the national meet or when Aly had finally come back home to them.
No, his dad’s eyes were brighter than he’d ever seen them as he rounded the counter. He picked up her left hand and gaped, mouth wide, at her finger. It was almost like his dad had finally won a prize he’d always wanted. And…were those tears in his eyes?
“Really?” his dad asked.
His sister wasdefinitelycrying as she nodded. Then his dad kissed her. One of those long, gross kisses that made Andy want to leave the room.
If he had given her the ring already, then why was he so surprised that she had it on? And why were they both crying?
Andy crossed his arms and waited for one of them to remember he was in the room.
His dad turned to him first, and sure enough, he had that choked-up look. “Want to be my best man?”
“Hey, I was going to ask him to give me away,” Aly said.
But they both opened an arm to him.
Andy jumped up from his seat and crashed into them. “I can do both,” he assured them. How cool was it that they were getting married? He was the luckiest kid. A year ago, that was something he never thought he’d be. Life was finally perfect.
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MORE THAN A STORY
CHAPTER ONE
“Get some glasses,jackass—I’ll donate to the cause.” The man’s shouts caused Taran to wince, and not only because of the volume.
New York fans were obnoxious, but they also tended to bewrong. That was a good call. The ball was so low it almost hit the dirt. Not even close to the strike zone.
“Guy’s got it out for us. He might as wella’be wearing purple the way he’s calling for the Rockies,” another fan added as Taran worked not to roll her eyes.
The ridiculous part of it was, the game was all but over: two outs, top of the ninth, Metros by three. Nobody was on base for the Rockies. The fans might be screaming, but all they needed was one more strike, and the game was done.
“Strike,” the man behind the plate called as the ball smacked into the leather mitt. Cheers sounded across the stadium, and the music played. Check the box for another NY Metros win, putting them at the top of the AL East.
Even with the screaming crowd, the entire game had been a disappointment. Taran needed a story for her sports gossip blog, and typically, a Saturday night at the ballpark brought something out.
But not tonight.
It was like everyone fun stayed home. Not one gossip-worthy person had showed up. No politician eating a hot dog, no Grammy winner singing the National Anthem, no star-studded boxes for a photo op of Hollywood’s elite. Not even former players watching their team; just an average game.
She pushed off the armrests and stood before heading up the concrete steps that led away from theSports Illustratedbox seats behind the home team dugout. Although the set of tickets was up for grabs for any of the reporters on staff, she used them more than anyone else. Sneaking between the people, she weaved toward the tunnels beneath the seats that housed forty thousand fans for every game day.
“Hey, kid,” security called out as she rounded the corner out of the crowd and into the back tunnels. “Hey—kid.”