Page 5 of Running Home to You
“Have you seen my cleats?” T.K. shouted.
“What?”
“Have you seen my cleats?”
Jillian Shupe thumped downstairs, toothbrush foaming in her mouth, messy red curls fanning her face. She chucked a cleat at T.K., which she narrowly dodged. The next shoe came directly after, and Kate caught it before it smacked Mick.
“The fuck, Jill,” T.K. said through a mouthful of cereal, milk dribbling down her chin.
Jill spit toothpaste into the kitchen sink. “Quit leaving your shit here. I tripped on those clown shoes in the bathroom and almost knocked myself out.”
“You better not be calling me a clown, ginger,” T.K. said.
“Well, the shoes literally fit.”
“How about you quit leaving the back door unlocked, Shupe,” Mick said.
“I didn’t!”
“You’re sneaking out to see Dylan again, aren’t you?”
Jill’s face flashed as crimson as her hair. “I am not.”
“You two are back together?” Kate asked.
“Not that type of back together, Hutch.” T.K. snorted as Jill shoved her. “Jill’s just getting slipped the ol’ Dill.”
Kate cleared her throat and checked her backpack for the books she already knew were there, desperate to hide the blush overtaking her cheeks.
“T.K., return to your own house, eat your own cereal, and find your own gear,” Mick said.
T.K. drained the milk from her bowl and flicked Mick behind the ear.
“Don’t forget practice today. Pitchers and catchers at three o’clock…” Kate trailed as T.K. slammed the door behind her. “And she left her cleats.”
Mick groaned. “Nope. I’m not doing it. Let her pitch barefoot.”
After chasing down T.K. with her cleats, Kate walked to campus with Jill. As a political science major on a pre-law track, Kate spent most of her time at Cormac Hall. She sat in the first few rows ofevery lecture, and now, as a junior, knew most of the professors and peers within her major. But when she found her usual place that morning, a new face greeted her. The unfamiliar student made a point to stand up from the end of the first row to flop down closer.
“Hey,” she said.
Kate furrowed her brow. “Hi.”
“You play softball, right?”
“Uh yeah.” Kate pulled out her notebook, making a point to look busy. “How’d you know?”
“Your jacket.” She draped an arm over the seat between them. “I’m Abby.”
Kate ventured a glance. She met amber eyes underscored by shadows. A stare that radiated fatigue, and yet Kate tilted her head, drawn in by something else. A flicker that screamed familiar. Perhaps she’d seen her before. It wasn’t exactly a big school. But if she had, she’d remember the way her breath snagged in her throat. She’d remember how difficult it was to hold eye contact when she met her head-on. She’d remember that despite the instinct to draw back at Abby’s forwardness and the faint trace of cigarettes wafting off her, she unconsciously leaned into the space between.
“I’m sorry.” Kate cleared her throat. “Can I help you with something?”
“Maybe. You see, today is—”
Professor Cruz’s footsteps interrupted. “Abby?” She raised a brow and set her briefcase on the lectern.
“Professor?” Abby said back.
