CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

 

“DID YOU say something about basketball?” Myah tried to jump up, but Keir’s arm held her in place. She shied from Haylan’s knowing smile. “Don’t let me stop you. I’ll stay here.”

Though she couldn’t see him, she imagined Awan shook his head to go with the exaggerated tsk’s she heard, while Haylan laughed like a deranged man. She stuck her nose in the air and wouldn’t be intimidated. She took it like a teased, favorite little sister.

“I won’t leave you your first time here,” Keir said.

“Dylan’s having a blast and I don’t need to be entertained. Low maintenance, remember?”

“I’ll stay and watch the kids.” Awan stood up and stretched. “Myah, you can get some fresh air. I’ll bring the kids out when the movie’s finished.”

“No, it’s okay.”

Haylan looked at Awan behind her and grinned before he got up and pulled her to her feet. “Please. I insist. One hour will do you good.”

In the short time it took to talk her into it, thrust a water bottle into her hand, and usher her to the front door, Keir had gone upstairs and come down in sweatpants, t-shirt, and jersey.

Skye stepped out of the main floor bathroom. “Going somewhere?”

Keir placed Myah’s shoes at her feet and laced his runners. “Basketball. Wes has a game. Awan has the kids. Want to come?”

“Let me get my stuff.” She moved down the hall, and Myah heard her and Haylan fussing while she searched around for her purse.

“We’ll meet you there,” Keir called as he grabbed her hand and yanked her from the house.

Myah laughed and hooted as he kidnapped her, and they ran down the front walk to escape like a couple of miscreants. “They’re a fun bunch.”

“Yeah. You may have figured out that my family likes to meet in one place, but we never actually stay in one place.”

“I like that you stay close. That’s what matters.”

They walked for five minutes to the park while she thought about how his quirky family wasn’t far off from hers. She surveyed the two basketball courts occupied by teens and men, surrounded by green grass, and drinking fountains.

“This is nice. One of the reasons my place is so cheap is because there are no playgrounds or schools nearby. At least the one near you has swings and wading pools. When he gets over his cold I’ll bring Dylan to splash around at your park.”

“How’s your budding cold?”

She inhaled warm afternoon air. “Not bad. They were right. Fresh air does feel good.”

He leaned close. “Later I’ll buy you vitamin C.”

“Ooh.”

“Chewables.”

“Ooh, ooh. I’m in heaven.”

Chuckling, they made their way to the bleachers that were six rows high and about twenty feet in length. A few of the men close by greeted Keir. He raised his chin at them while he pulled off one of his two shirts.

“I’ll even let you watch my stuff until the others get here.”

“You’re such a romantic,” she told him.

He laughed, then looked around and pointed out his friend Wes. “I won’t keep you long, but I’ll introduce you after. You’ll like him. We hang at church all the time.”

Did he realize he absently reached for his sweatpants? Myah cleared her throat when he stripped to basketball shorts. “Take your time.”

She took his clothes, cell phone, and water, and turned to find a seat. The game got underway, and Myah charted the community park. Large, swing sets, jungle bars, teeter-totter, horsies, a bicycle path, clusters of trees for shade. A baseball diamond sat beyond the tree line.

Young and old gathered to enjoy one of the first warm days of spring. Mothers or nannies conversed close to where the children played. Teens hung out on the courts. Older couples strolled. Below her on the first step of the bleachers, two younger teen girls sat more engrossed with a text conversation than the events around them. Oh well, always at least one.

She found a seat on the near-empty bleacher, second to the top, and turned her attention to the aggressive play in front of her. Wes practically shoved Keir to the ground. Good friend, huh? Nothing applied when it came to sports. Wes could be Haylan’s age, with platinum-blond hair and a muscular build. Can we say Nordic supermodel, boys and girls? Myah believed even Amy would be thrown off her game.

He showed natural leadership; a teacher or coach perhaps, judging by the way he played captain of his ragtag team.

Starting another play, Keir squatted and widened his stance to stare Wes down. They trash-talked like a couple of high school kids. Too absorbed in Keir’s movements, Myah didn’t register that the music playing for some time came from his phone. She glanced at Skye’s image on the screen. Answer or no? Answer? Not her phone. Answer.

“Hello?”

“Hi, Myah. Sorry. No—you know what—I’m not sorry. We’re not coming, never were, just wanted to get you two lovebirds out of the house. Dylan is fine. He likes Jasper’s belly for some reason. So, that’s it. Don’t expect us, and don’t hurry back. The ball’s in your court, so to speak.”

Myah held the phone away from her ear to digest the news. Yesterday she’d teased Keir for being bamboozled, and she’d just become a victim. They’d been out for thirty minutes and she hadn’t noticed no one joined them. She lowered her hand, looked out to the court, and laughed at herself.

The game paused. Players milled around, but remained on point. Sweat dampened Keir’s hair to his forehead while he and Wes carried on a conversation speckled with the occasional laugh, and listened to the semi-argument surrounding a foul shot. He looked great, in his element. She liked seeing him in his world, and that he gave her space to move around in it freely. Such a small thing, watching him enjoy himself, but she found it brought her pleasure.

His family accepted her and Dylan. At first sight she knew they hadn’t expected her to be black, but they processed the fact and moved on. Skye, after all, had a mixed marriage with her college sweetheart.

Could she consider Keir her sweetheart? Myah’s eyes locked on him when he stripped off his sweaty shirt. Sweet. Heart. She focused on the colorful tattoo high on his left deltoid and chest. Fabulous.

As he came near to fling the sweaty shirt at her feet, she realized that the circle with a point going through it was really a navy blue steering wheel with a slanted sword. To either side of the wheel extended an amazing pair of angel wings. The white with blue-tipped highlights feathered from the depicted spinning wheel to arch over his upper peck and collarbone.

The ink work looked textured. Eerie. Alive. He turned, and she saw the disturbing back wing jump from the movement of his upper shoulder blade.

She’d never been crazy about tattoos, but hey, this was Keir, and the glistening sweat and bright 3D-shaded art played risqué havoc with her imagination.

“Yum,” someone moaned.

She glanced at Blondie and Blonder no more interested in text messages. Myah jumped up to snatch the shirt when the outspoken one made a move for it. “A little young aren’t you?” she warned.

“I’ve had these eyes since I was born, nothin’ wrong with ‘em.”

Now she wanted to drag the shirt back over his chest to cover up the luscious sight. The next half hour fulfilled and pained her. Half the men had shirts off or pulled over the back of their necks, but only one, in red and white loose shorts with a towel tucked in the waistline, kept her heart at a combustible state.

When finished, all five-foot-ten, damp haired, sweaty goodness of him sauntered over, out of breath, his grin worn but happy.

“Good game. Sorry you lost.” She handed him his water.

“Depends on perspective.” He peeled off the cap then guzzled two thirds. “Figures the others are a no-show.”

“You mean Haylan? Yeah, your sister called to say they never planned on coming, just wanted to get us lovebirds out of the house.”

He panted to catch his breath but laughed through the suggestion. “Time is it anyway?”

“Three.”

“Want to stay longer?” Keir dumped the remaining water over his head, wiped down with the jersey, and slipped on his sweatpants. He put on the first shirt then gathered up his stuff. “Come on.” His friends began to scatter, but he took her over for introductions. “Guys, meet my girlfriend, Myah. Myah, this is…”

She’d never remember names, except Wes—his church’s youth leader.

Afterward, she walked with him to a fairly nice patch of grass by a medium sized tree, and reclined on the ground to enjoy the ambiance and scenery. Propped on her elbow, she scrutinized him, then reached out a tentative hand to hover over his left shoulder.

His gaze didn’t flinch until she made contact. The same odd lumps she felt when they first kissed grated beneath her hand. He grabbed her fingers and bolted upright, but wouldn’t let her pull away.

“You know I have to ask, right?” But then she didn’t, for the same shadow that befell him whenever he spoke of the crash crept through his eyes. “I know why. Let me see.”

Under normal circumstances, a man who fired up her desires peeling off his shirt wouldn’t make her sad. Keir bared his chest, his eyes averted until she touched his cool, sweaty arm. She wanted him to see her examining what he tried to cover up.

On the flat of the doubled-edged sword were the words “Giver of Life”, a semi-contradiction to what happened for him that day. She ran seeking fingertips over the incredible artwork of the wing toward his collar. If not for the tattoo, she would have thought his scars nothing more than boyhood folly.

Giving his damp shoulder a gentle nudge, she waited while he turned for her to view similar anomalies on his shoulder blade. Oh, this was worse. No boyhood folly here. This could only be taken by a man.

“It’s scar tissue and cartilage on the bone,” he whispered. “Hard to ink.”

She rubbed her hand across his entire back, the smooth and the ridged, before he lay down on the grass, and she leaned on his chest.

“We got knocked into a construction fence. A piece of metal came through the windshield, hit Dad, took a piece of his clavicle and scapula through the back seat and through me.”

She winced on a short breath.

“I was thrown forward at the time, otherwise it would have been low enough to put the hole through my heart. Or so I’m told.”

He found her eyes, then flit his gaze away too fast, as if ashamed he’d just revealed he could have been dead instantly.

“Cartilage grew on my bone while it healed. They’d never get the shoulder blade back to normal unless they scraped it for years. I didn’t want to go through that. A couple of years ago I told a friend to…make it look beautiful. At least try. She did.”

“A true artist.” Myah traced each defined white feather edged with blue. Again, Keir caught her hand.

“I can’t stand anyone touching it.”

“Then you should have gone for ugly.”

He sat up, causing her to fall away.

“I wasn’t making light of it, Keir.”

“I know.” He yanked his shirt over his head, punched his arms through the sleeves. Jerky movements brought him to his feet.

She struggled up beside him. “I didn’t—”

“I don’t talk about it. I never talk about it.” Red-faced, he picked up his jersey, empty bottle, and phone, stuffed them into large pockets, and turned in the direction to the house.

She caught his hand as he tried to flee. He didn’t move. Several breaths, several thoughts of doubt, Myah couldn’t let him go. He faced her and turned her wrist to lay her palm on the side of his face. She took over to minister whatever she had to through her hands. Yeah, she got the crazy ones. But this one was honest and crazy, and she wouldn’t trade him for anything.

She used both hands, standing there, scratching her nails through his hair, palms on his pained face, a soft touch to his lips, his chest, his closed eyes. The words, “I love you. I’ll make you happy,” wanted to slip out. But that was foolish, they’d only known each other a short time. She held her tongue, not willing again to be the one to say it first.

Eyes closed, Keir cupped her ribcage. He drew her close to bury his face in her neck. Myah stiffened at how their public display looked, but also knew she had to give him his time. After half a minute, his lips opened, and he breathed deep.

“When I get like that, don’t think I’m angry at you.”

“I hope you’re not angry at yourself.”

“I loved them all, Myah; some of the time it’s not about missing them. It’s like I shouldn’t be alive.”

She gripped his shirt as much as his words gripped her heart. The sweaty aroma and damp hair fused to the side of her face. “You survived what took your family. That can’t be easy.”

Keir straightened and rubbed his forehead. “First you had me talking about my feelings, now about what happened. I can’t. I still smell and taste it all.”

“I can’t say I understand, but I’m trying.” The faintest smile moved his lips, lips she perched on tiptoe to kiss, then she held her lips to his chest where his heart beat wild and lost inside.

He must have sensed her motive, for he tried to prevent her from moving. She hushed him, slipped round to his back, and pressed a simple kiss to the shoulder blade over his damage. His body flinched. But the moment drained her. She dropped her weary forehead between his blades and prayed peace over his troubles.

He relaxed. “You’re incredible.”

Overwhelmed, she hugged tighter. She’d just admitted she didn’t understand what he went through and he thought she was incredible. Wonders never ceased.