The First To Know. Abigail Johnson

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      I lifted my head. “He never said anything.” Though now that she mentioned it, Nick had been waiting by my locker most mornings for a while now.

      “He wouldn’t, would he?”

      Probably not. Nick would never risk saying something that he thought might make me feel bad. Jessalyn did that for him. She was taller than most of the guys in school, and even without the conditioning that she got from playing softball, she sported totally natural lean muscle definition. I would have swapped arms with her in a second, but there had been more than one idiot boy who was less than impressed with her by-all-rights-impressive physique. Nick had always been a notable exception, which in turn made Jessalyn fiercely protective of him, even with me.

      “He stayed until the last second and then had to sprint so he wouldn’t be late.”

      My stomach gave a little lurch. “I never asked him to wait for me. I would have texted him that I was running late if I had.”

      “The guy follows you around like a puppy dog waiting for any scrap of affection you throw his way.”

      I pulled on my T-shirt over my sports bra. “Come on, that’s not fair or true. You’ve been friends with him almost as long as I have. You know how he is.”

      “I know what he was like before you became the sun in his solar system. He can barely talk when you’re around now. So I can hang out with either him or you, but not together. It kind of sucks.”

      It did suck. A lot. “Then help me. I haven’t changed—why did he have to?”

      “Ask your boobs.”

      I tried not to laugh, but I failed. “I’m seriously asking you for help right now. You know he’s been helping me with the DNA thing for my dad, but even when we’re talking about that, he’s Nick, so he’s super sweet, but he’s still...I don’t know...uncomfortable around me.” That admission wriggled in my stomach. I hated that I was inadvertently doing that to him.

      “Anything back yet from Secret Grandpa?”

      My phone was faceup on the bench beside me so I could glance at it constantly. “No, and I’m failing miserably in my attempt not to obsess over it.” I pulled my gaze away to look at Jessalyn. “So what do I do with Nick?”

      “He’s got that job interview at my parents’ café after school today. He told you, right?”

      I nodded. Nick was trying to save up for a new car. According to Jessalyn, his current rusted jalopy was made of Lifetime movies and people who take their cousin to prom and therefore too sad to drive except under the direst of circumstances. I had to agree it was pretty rough, and it died more often than it ran. Our friend Jill worked as a mechanic at her dad’s garage and had been keeping it alive for him, but she’d recently started begging him to let her put it down.

      “I promised to give him a ride and help him with his totally unnecessary nerves,” Jessalyn went on. “I could talk to him a little and maybe subtly hint that his solo silent game around all of us might not be the best way to get a girl to like him.”

      I hugged her tight. “Thanks, Jess.”

      She gave me a long, considering look when I released her. “Just don’t be that girl, okay? Nick is a sweet guy who really likes you. If you know he’ll never be more to you than he is right now, then save him from worse heartache and cut him loose.”

      I appreciated Jessalyn’s concern for Nick, but I did like him, a lot. I just needed to give my heart enough time to catch up to my head. Then there wouldn’t be any heartache at all.

      “I’m not going to hurt him,” I said. “But Coach will put the hurt on us if we’re late to practice, so...” I nodded at the cleat she still needed to tie. I checked my phone one last time before putting it in my locker. Most of the girls were already outside, but a few were still here.

      “Dana,” Ainsley said, drawing my attention to the far end of the bench. “Will you please tell Sadie that your sister pitched two no-hitters in a row her senior year?”

      Technically, it had been her junior year, but I kept that clarification to myself and just nodded my answer.

      “Wow,” Sadie said, leaning back and looking sort of dazed. Sadie was our starting pitcher and had, to my knowledge, never pitched a single no-hitter in her life. Ainsley knew that too. She could be petty like that. It was almost as exhausting as fielding grounders for four hours after dinner.

      “Don’t sweat it, Sadie,” I said, gathering my hair into a ponytail. “Selena was awesome, but your curveball is nasty.” I looked at Jessalyn. “You’re hitting .400 right now.” Then, to Ivy, “And you’re a vacuum cleaner at first base.” I turned to each girl in the room, naming a unique strength she brought to the team. Even Ainsley, hoping she’d remember we were a team and needed to be strong together. “And your speed.”

      Sadie brightened; so did everyone else.

      “Nice,” Jessalyn said to me in a low voice as we followed the rest of the girls—all smiling—to the field. “Your dad needs to see you like this. What you do for our team off the field is just as important as what you do for us on.”

      With one last thought about the phone inside my locker, I said, “Hopefully, he will soon.”

      * * *

      Practice was grueling, and my shoulder was screaming by the time I got back to the locker room. It was like my coach had no idea how hard my dad had made me work the night before. I was dreading what Dad would have in store for me after dinner. It was all I could think about as I opened my locker and pulled out my clothes.

      My phone was on top of my shirt, and the screen was lit up. I grabbed it...and it was like taking a bat to the gut when I read Brandon’s reply.

      Sorry, I live in Arizona too but I think you’ve got the wrong guy. I only just turned 18.

       Chapter 6

      “Hello? Earth to Dana.” Ivy waved a hand in my face, breaking my stare at my phone screen.

      “What?”

      “A bunch of us are going for ice cream. Are you in?”

      Half a dozen pairs of eyes were on me, including Jessalyn’s.

      “Something wrong?” she asked, and then started to smile. “Wait, is it...” Her gaze flicked to my phone, and her grin grew. She lowered her voice so that only I could hear. I hadn’t told anyone else on the team what I was doing, because I hadn’t wanted word to get to my dad/our coach. “Is it something from your grandfather?”

      I fought to keep my hand steady as I shoved my phone and cleats in my bag, not bothering with anything else. “No, I just need to go. Sorry.” Then I was pushing open the heavy locker room door and bursting into the now-empty quad.

      He can’t be eighteen.

      He’s my 65-year-old grandfather.

      No.

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