Read It Was Me for Free Online

my skull and it was doing a slow burn.
    “So you can't be mad at me,” she said. “Please don't be mad.”
    I set my napkin on the table and glanced at her parents. “Excuse me.”
    I pushed back from the table, stood and walked through the living room toward the front door. I pulled it closed behind me, barely noticing the heat, shaking my head. I was ten steps beyond it when I heard it open and then close again.
    “You can't be mad at me,” Abby said.
    “The fuck I can't.”
    “West. Stop.”
    But I didn't. I kept walking. I heard her sandals clacking against the pavement until she was next to me.
    “Fine. I'll take it all back.”
    “Hope you still have the receipt.”
    “I do. I knew you might get pissed.”
    I came to a stop. “Then why the fuck did you tell me not to be?”
    “Because I don't want you to be mad,” she said. “But I think this is an opportunity. For you. And for us.”
    “How the hell is it for us?”
    She held up her hand telling me to slow down. “One thing at a time. You're jumping ahead again.”
    “I'm jumping ahead again?” I said. “I am? I told you I'd think about it and the next thing I know, you're outfitting me like some Little Leaguer!”
    “Well, I knew you'd need stuff!”
    “That's not the point!”
    “So what's the point?” she yelled back at me. “That you're afraid? Because I think that's the only point there is right now!”
    I started to say something, then stopped. Then I started walking again.
    She chased after me. “I'm right, aren't I? You're afraid. You haven't played in over a year. And you got your dream yanked out from under you. You're afraid of failing and you're afraid of having it taken away from you again.”
    I didn't say anything again, just kept walking.
    “Well, newsflash, West,” she said, breathing heavy, trying to keep up with me. “Everyone is afraid of those things. Everyone. You aren't the only one. And if you need me to spit out a bunch of corny cliches about trying and failing and all that crap, I will. But you're smarter than that. So quit being a baby.”
    I slowed my pace, her words digging into me like tiny razor blades. I came to a stop.
    Abby stopped next to me. She stared at me, then shook her head, pushing her hair off her now sweaty forehead. “I mean, it's a tryout. You aren't signing your life away to anyone right now. You can always say no. But I don't get why you're being so stubborn about it.”
    I stubbed my flip-flop against the ground. “And what if no one wants to offer me the chance to sign my life away?”
    She sighed and reached for my hand. “It's alright to be a little afraid. It really is.”
    “I don't think afraid is the right word,” I said. “I'm not sure what the right word is.”
    “Whatever it is, I don't think it suits you,” she said, squeezing my fingers. “And no matter what you tell me, you won't be able to convince me that you don't still think about playing. I know that's why you got the job at the academy. I know that's why the TV is always tuned to a game. You can't fool me, West. I know it's still there.” She touched my chest lightly with her hand. “I know it's still in there.”
    I covered her hand with mine. She was right, of course. It was still there. And I wasn't sure what the word was, but I didn't think I could stand the idea of having it all taken away from me again. I wasn't afraid of it, but I wasn't sure I could deal with it again. And that didn't even begin to address what it would be like if I did go play somewhere other than San Diego.
    Somewhere without Abby.
    “If you don't want me to come, I won't,” she said. “My dad can take you.” She laughed. “I'm not sure we could keep him away, anyway. But if my being there is a problem, I won't go.” She pressed her hand harder against my chest. “But I want you to do this. For you. And if it doesn't go well, then oh well. At least you tried. I'll take the blame.”
    I shook my head. “I wouldn't blame