Left Field Love
: Chapter 9

There are a lot of places where I never expected to wake up. I’ve lived in Landry my whole life. Left the state of Kentucky exactly once and never been out of the country.

Waking up in Canada would have been less shocking than realizing I spent the night in Caleb Winters’s bed.

I bolt upright into a sitting position. The room’s mostly dark, despite the fact that the window shades on either side of the bed are wide open. The sun hasn’t risen yet.

The only light comes from the television, which casts a dim blue glow over the bed.

The bed I’m currently in.

With Caleb Winters. Who’s lying next to me, flat on his stomach, fast asleep.

“Caleb,” I hiss. He groans, but doesn’t otherwise react. “Caleb!” This time, I give his shoulder a light shove, and it’s enough to open his blue eyes.

He looks straight at me first, then lets his gaze wander to our surroundings, checking to confirm we’re still in his bedroom. His lazy perusal wanders back to me as he sits up slowly. “This is a surprise,” he admits, running a hand through his hair.

The action ruffles the dark strands into what should be comical disarray, but instead they manage to look perfectly tousled on purpose.

I clear my throat, shifting away so we’re not so close.

“A surprise is rain that wasn’t on the forecast. Waking up in bed with you is more of a traumatic event,” I snap.

Caleb has the audacity to laugh. “We fell asleep watching a movie. Not sure what’s so shocking about that.”

Maybe for him. I’ve heard the gossip at school. I saw him kissing Madison. I see a little of the appeal. But this is in no way, shape, or form a normal occurrence for me.

I slide off the soft comforter and stretch. Conversing with Caleb while on a bed next to him is not conducive to thinking clearly. His hair isn’t the only part of him that looks attractive first thing in the morning.

“I need to get home,” I say, crossing my arms.

Gramps always goes to bed before me, so I’m not worried he’ll have missed me last night. But if he wakes up and I’m missing, that will be difficult to explain. Plus, there’s a long list of chores waiting for me out in the barn.

Caleb rolls off the other side of his bed. “Just give me a minute to change, and then I’ll drive you home.”

He disappears into the adjoining bathroom, leaving me with the tantalizing opportunity to poke around his bedroom unsupervised. I resist the urge for about thirty seconds before wandering over to his desk. I run the pads of my fingers along the varnished wood surface as I study the bulletin board mounted above it. A few photos with his baseball teammates, a copy of his class schedule, a ticket to a baseball game. I open one of the desk drawers, only to discover it’s filled with nothing but old school notebooks. I slide it shut and open the next one. It’s filled with letters from colleges. Recruitment letters. A much-needed reminder of another way in which Caleb and I are completely different.

“Finished snooping?” Caleb’s voice startles me. I knock two books off his desk in my haste to spin around.

Not incriminating at all.

“I was just…sightseeing.”

Caleb’s smirk makes it clear he doesn’t believe me. “If you’re done sightseeing, I’m ready to go.”

He’s changed, I realize, into a pair of jeans and a different sweatshirt than the one he woke up in. He’s also combed his short, dark hair so it lies flat, making me miss the messy bedhead.

I grab my book bag from the spot where I abandoned it last night. To my surprise, Caleb grabs his own as well.

“What are you doing? Aren’t you coming back here?”

Caleb shrugs. “I’m already up.” He opens his bedroom door and starts walking down the hallway.

I hurry after him.

“What if your parents see us?” I whisper. As embarrassed as I am about waking up next to Caleb, it would be infinitely worse for anyone else to replace out. And based on the sneer Mrs. Winters gave me last night, she would be equally displeased.

“My dad’s out of town and my mom won’t be up for hours. As long as I’m not out besmirching the Winters name, they could really care less what I do.”

I don’t have anything to say to that aside from informing Caleb hanging out with me is probably the worst form of name besmirching he could engage in. But I don’t feel like pointing that out.

I’m just as struck by the opulence of the Winters’ mansion on my second trip through it as I was last night. Morning light is creeping in through the windows, bathing the soft shades surrounding us in hints of color.

“I’ve always wondered what these houses look like inside,” I muse as I follow Caleb through another hallway lined with antique side tables and expensive oil paintings.

Caleb studies what I’m guessing is an awestruck expression. “It’s awful,” he offers. “Like living in a museum.”

“Grass is always greener, I guess,” I reply, as I follow him through the soaring foyer and outside, pulling my fleece tighter around my torso to combat the early morning chill. It takes a few minutes for the water to turn hot in the farmhouse and the radiator pipes clang in the middle of the night. I bet the heating in this place works perfectly.

“Or bluer, based on our location.” Caleb’s grin is wide, obviously pleased with himself for coming up with that reference to Kentucky’s nickname.

I roll my eyes. “That was lame.”

“Then why are you smiling?”

“I’m not,” I lie, quickly wiping any traces of amusement from my face as I climb into his truck.

“You’re a terrible liar,” Caleb informs me as he climbs into the driver’s seat.

“I’ll take that as a compliment,” I respond as I snap the seatbelt into place from my spot on the passenger side.

“Well, normally you take everything I say as an insult, so I’d call that progress.”

“I don’t take it as an insult. Most of what you say to me is insulting.”

“I think that’s a matter of opinion.”

“Exactly. My opinion.” Caleb opens his mouth to voice what I’m certain will be an argument, so I speak again before he has a chance to. “Can we get going, please? I’ve got a lot to do before school.”

“You have a lot to do at—” Caleb glances at the clock on the dashboard. “5:30 a.m.?”

“Yes.” I sigh, exhausted by the thought of all the tasks waiting for me. “I didn’t make you meet me this early for the last interview just to make you miserable, you know.”

“It was just a bonus?”

I glance over at Caleb’s grinning face as we start rolling down the gravel driveway. The soaring oaks lining each side of the road block some of the rising sun, but the golden glow still manages to spill inside the car between each branch, bathing the interior of the truck and Caleb’s features in brilliance.

“Maybe,” I admit, turning my gaze to the white fence line we’re whizzing past.

I deliberate on asking Caleb to drop me off at the end of the driveway for the entirety of the short drive. But when he takes the turn, my mouth stays shut.

Matthews Farm looks especially ramshackle after just having come from the immaculate Winters estate.

I fling the truck’s door open as soon as it comes to a stop outside the barn. Impatient whinnies pierce the cool air as I climb out of the warm car, the horses annoyed by my tardiness.

“I’ll see you at school, Caleb,” I say. “Thanks for the ride,” I add before I close the door and then rush toward the house, not giving him a chance to respond.

The farmhouse is still and silent when I slip inside the front door. I let out a sigh of relief. Gramps is one to make his presence known, slamming frypans and clomping around in his heavy boots from the moment he wakes until he passes out on the couch at night.

I sneak up the stairs, carefully avoiding the spots I know will creak. Reaching my bedroom door, I twist the handle and step inside, letting out a long exhale of air when I close the door behind me and drop my backpack on the floor.

There’s no time to savor my successful sneak in. My first, and likely last. I quickly change into a fresh pair of jeans and a clean shirt before pulling my fleece jacket back on. I yank a brush through my tangles and pull my hair back in a careless attempt at a bun before darting back down the hall to use the bathroom.

Gramps emerges from his bedroom at the same time I exit the restroom, face washed and teeth brushed.

“Morning, Gramps,” I call out as I hurry toward the stairs.

“Where’s the fire, Lennie?” he calls, stomping down the stairs after me.

“I overslept. I haven’t been out to the barn yet,” I yell back as I grab a banana from the kitchen and sprint out the front door. Only to come to a screeching stop on the porch.

Caleb’s black truck is still parked in front of the barn.

I swear under my breath before I start walking again, pausing when I reach the driver’s side of the car. He’s not inside.

Loud stamping and snorts are coming from the barn. I leave Caleb’s empty truck and head into the barn. As soon as the horses see me, the din increases substantially. Hooves clang against wood and excited nickers fill the air.

“Caleb?” I call out, feeling ridiculous. Whenever I’m in the barn, I’m alone.

“What?” his voice replies. I track the sound to the feed room.

“What the hell are you still doing here?” I ask, entering the small space to replace Caleb slouched against the table where I normally mix feed and supplements, studying the board that has the turnout schedule written out.

“What did you call it earlier? Oh yeah, I’m sightseeing.” He looks over and smirks.

“Also known as trespassing,” I correct, grabbing two feed pails from the floor. I’m too far behind schedule to waste time arguing with him.

“Interesting how one’s perspective shifts,” Caleb comments. Humor glints in his blue eyes.

I drop the buckets next to him on the table with a little more force than usual. “Fine, I was snooping earlier. Will you please leave now? I’ve got a ton to do, and I—”

“What do you mean? Don’t you have…” Caleb’s words trail off as realization replaces amusement. “You take care of all these horses yourself?” The astonished pity displayed on his face is more than I’m equipped to handle following what has already been a draining morning.

“Just leave, Caleb. I don’t need—”

“Lennie?” My grandfather’s booming voice interrupts me. He’s close by. Meaning he already saw the strange truck outside.

“Shit,” I whisper under my breath. “What is it, Gramps?” I shout back.

“I wanted to see whether you—” The door to the feed room opens.

Gramps stops speaking the second he sees Caleb. We don’t have many visitors. Certainly none that are my age. And definitely none that are male.

“Who’s this?” Something in his expression tells me he already knows.

“Nice to meet you, Mr. Matthews. I’m Caleb Winters.” Caleb steps forward and holds out a hand, which Gramps shakes.

“Caleb Winters, eh? I thought that was the name of the fella you’re always complaining about, Lennie.” Gramps has never been one for subtlety. He knows exactly who Caleb Winters is and exactly how I feel about him. He’s also a troublemaker.

“It is,” I reply bluntly as I start scooping.

“Lennon has a tendency to take everything I say the wrong way,” Caleb offers by way of explanation.

Although my back is to him, I can picture the charming grin I’m sure he’s giving Gramps.

Sure enough, Gramps chuckles. “He seems nice enough to me, darling.”

“Traitor,” I mutter under my breath.

“And how did my granddaughter manage to get you on our property at this ungodly hour?” Gramps asks Caleb.

I interject before Caleb has a chance to answer. “I asked him to pick me up before school to finish the interview for the paper. We didn’t get it all done last night.”

“Well, get out of here, then,” Gramps says. “I’ll finish up the chores.”

“I’ve barely started, Gramps. They all need to be turned out still.”

“I’ll manage.”

I raise both eyebrows. We both know he can’t. He hasn’t done anything more than some light lifting since his hip injury. He certainly hasn’t tried to lead any of the spirited stallions out to the west pasture. “No you won’t, Gramps. If I rush, I can get it all done.”

He heaves out a long sigh. “You worry too much, Lennie.”

“And you don’t worry enough,” I retort.

Gramps turns to Caleb, who’s been watching the two of us like a ping pong match. “Can I get you a coffee or anything, Caleb?”

“No, sir, I’m all set. Thank you.”

“No need for the formality. Just call me Earl,” my grandfather says before he hobbles out of the barn.

I sigh as he disappears. “There goes my last sympathetic audience.”

Caleb turns his gaze on me. “What?”

“I can’t complain to anyone at school about the shit you pull without them acting like I’m insane. Gramps was all I had. Now he’ll take your side too.” I let out another exasperated exhale, but it’s not as genuine as it once would have been.

Caleb surprises me by laughing. And it’s not brief or stiff or mocking, a sound I’ve heard many times before. It’s genuine. Warm. “Sorry to disappoint. With the exception of you, most people seem to like me, Matthews.”

I make a small sound of incredulity, although I know he’s right.

“So, what can I do to help?” Caleb asks.

“What?” I reply, shocked.

“I’m stuck here until you’re ready to leave. Might as well help out.”

“You’re not stuck here. We took your truck,” I reply. “You can leave right now and I’ll walk to school like usual as soon as I finish.”

“We’re due at the same place in—” He pulls out his phone to check the time. “Forty minutes. I’ll wait. Help.”

I mask my shock with irritation. “Do you even know anything about horses?”

Caleb snorts. “I think I can handle it, Matthews.”

“Fine.” I hold out the two buckets I’ve already filled. “Give these to the two mares on the right. First two stalls.”

I have to bite my bottom lip to keep from grinning at the sight of Caleb balancing the two buckets as he tries to open the swinging door with his arms full. It slams shut behind him once he finally manages it.

“You said the left, right?” he calls from the aisle.

“The right!” I holler back, and hear him laugh.

After all the mares are happily munching on their breakfast, Caleb follows me over to the stallion barn. Feeding Geiger and Gallie is a much quicker process. There’s only two of them, and their diets are identical, speeding up the measuring significantly.

As soon as the stallions are fed, I head back to the main barn, grabbing four halters from the row of hooks to the right of the door. “Can you handle two?” I ask Caleb.

He nods. I slip halters on Ransom and Stormy. Ransom’s our oldest mare, and Stormy is expecting a foal in four months. I’m certain Caleb notices I’ve given him the two most docile horses, because he lets out a quiet snort. He doesn’t comment, though, just follows me along the path that leads to the east pasture where the mares spend most of the day.

We let the four horses loose, then head back toward the barn for the rest of them.

“So you do all of this, every day?” Caleb asks as we walk along.

“Gramps helps out how he can, but he injured his hip last year, and horses tend to move at the pace they want to, not how fast you want them to go.”

“Couldn’t you get someone else to help?”

“Yeah, I’m sure someone would help. If we could afford to pay them.”

“Oh,” Caleb says as he realizes.

He doesn’t make any more comments about my long chore list as we put the rest of the horses out to pasture and then start the smelly process of mucking out the stalls.

I keep waiting for Caleb to bail, especially once manure is involved, but he scoops up the soiled shavings quickly and efficiently. He contributes enough I realize I probably wouldn’t have had time to finish all the chores before having to leave for school.

“I’ve just got to grab my backpack, and then we can go,” I say as soon as the last stall has been cleaned. “Do you, uh, want to come inside for a minute?”

“Sure.” Caleb agrees easily, not realizing what a leap it is for me. Back when I thought Madison and I were still friends, I overheard her telling a group of our classmates how much she hated coming over to my house. And it was in a much better state back in middle school. Even if I’d had friends to invite over in the past few years, I doubt I would have. All Cassie has visited is the end of the driveway.

I can see Gramps bustling around in the kitchen through the front-facing window as we approach the house. “Ignore anything my grandfather says,” I warn Caleb. “I don’t have many”—more like any—“people over, so he’ll probably try to embarrass me somehow.”

Caleb’s smile makes me think the prospect of Gramps embarrassing me in front of him is not an unwelcome one. It only falters when we reach the rickety front porch. Caleb glances down at the wooden boards nervously as they creak. Under our combined weight, they do sound like they’re about to give out any minute.

“I’ve yet to fall through,” I tell him.

“Comforting,” Caleb remarks.

Gramps is standing at the stove frying an egg when we enter the kitchen.

“I’m just going to run upstairs to grab my stuff,” I tell Caleb. “Feel free to help yourself to whatever.” I gesture vaguely around the kitchen and then give Gramps a quick glance that I hope conveys he better behave himself.

I rush up the stairs and into my room. My backpack’s sitting on the floor next to my desk. I pick it up and head back toward the door, only to hesitate. Letting the bag drop down to the floor once more, I unzip my fleece and fling it onto my desk chair. I pull my favorite sweatshirt out of my dresser. It’s a soft crewneck style that’s a vibrant shade of dark green. Then I pull the elastic out of my hair, releasing my long strands from the knot. I swipe the brush through it a couple more times before picking up my backpack again and heading downstairs.

Gramps is chuckling when I enter the kitchen. “You’re definitely right about Roberts,” he tells Caleb. “I know the Jays can replace better.”

They’re discussing baseball. Of course.

“We’d better get going,” I announce. “Or we’ll be late.”

Caleb looks over from his spot next to the kitchen sink. Nothing in his face indicates he notices the changes to my appearance, but he keeps his eyes fixed on me as he takes a long sip from the mug of coffee he’s now holding.

Gramps hands me my lunchbox and a thermos of hot coffee, and I give him a grateful glance. “Thanks, Gramps.” I snag a couple of cereal bars from the cabinet and head toward the front door. “See you later.”

“Thanks, Mr. Matthews,” Caleb adds. “Nice to meet you.”

“It’s Earl,” Gramps corrects. “And you too, Caleb.”

I hold out a cereal bar to Caleb in a silent offer as we walk down the rickety porch stairs and cross the overgrown yard. He takes it. “Thanks.”

“I should be thanking you,” I admit. “I never would have gotten everything done this morning without you.”

Caleb doesn’t say anything at first. Then, “I like your grandfather.”

“Me too,” I agree, taking a bite of my breakfast bar.

“He’s your mom’s dad, right?”

“Right.” I’m surprised he’s asking. Interested.

“What happened to your grandmother?”

I don’t answer, and Caleb quickly backtracks. “Never mind. It’s none of my business.”

“No, it’s fine. I just…” don’t know why you care. “She died right after my mom was born. I never knew her.”

We reach the truck and climb inside.

“I’m sorry,” Caleb says quietly.

“Not your fault,” I say, uncomfortable with his sympathy. “It was a long time ago. We’re going to actually be late.” I nod to the clock on the dashboard. We only have four minutes to get to school.

Caleb nods, then starts the truck.

I think we’re running late enough to avoid seeing more than a couple of people. If I’d taken my usual rushed route across our field and through the rear entrance, I would’ve.

The rare times I’ve driven I always arrive early, so I incorrectly assumed most of the student body will already be inside the school.

Instead, what looks like the vast majority of Landry High is milling around the blacktop. The parking lot is packed and swarming with familiar faces; most of whom turn in our direction when Caleb’s truck appears. There are only a few spots left, all in the furthest row from the entrance.

But Caleb drives right past them.

“What are you doing?” I ask. “You just passed the only spots.”

He just grins as we approach the front row, which is where the majority of people seem to be gathered. I spot some of Caleb’s baseball teammates, Madison, and the rest of the popular crowd I’m not a part of.

There’s one spot left open in the very center. Based on how full the rest of the lot is, I know this was left for Caleb on purpose.

“Front and center.” The many stares I can feel on us are putting me on edge. I can feel my usual snark rising, erasing the fragile peace that settled between us last night and this morning. “A late slip would have been better than this.”

Caleb appears overly amused by my obvious irritation with the attention. “Most girls aren’t quite so horrified to be seen with me.”

“You do this a lot, don’t you?” Caleb opens his mouth. “Actually, don’t answer that. And now everyone’s going to think…” I bang my head back against the soft headrest once. “Don’t say a single word to anyone about this if they ask. Aside from saying nothing happened, okay?”

“Nothing did happen, Matthews,” he drawls. “I’m well aware if I’d so much as tried to touch you last night you would have slapped me.”

I try not to think too hard about his words. Not to imagine him touching me. Because I’m not sure that I would have stopped it. And that’s highly concerning.

“You’re missing the point, Winters. No way am I ending high school being considered one of your groupies. Anyone asks, shut it down.”

“I get the point, Lennon.”

“Good.” I grab my bag and swing the passenger door open, preparing to leap down onto the asphalt. “Uh—thanks again.”

“For the sex?”

I slam the door on his grinning face. Hard. Forcefully enough that if we’d been in the farm’s old jalopy, the spotless blacktop would be littered with flecks of rust.

I stride toward the front doors without looking back at the black truck. My irritated stride eats up the pavement quickly. I’m almost to the front doors when I hear Cassie’s voice.

“Beautiful morning, huh?” she asks, appearing next to me.

I grunt, eyeing Cassie’s bright smile suspiciously. It’s warmer than it’s been and the sun is out. But I think she’s referring to something I’d rather not discuss.

“Anything interesting happen?” she continues, confirming my suspicions.

“Nope,” I insist. Cassie lets out a maddening humming sound. I sigh. “I’m not a groupie.”

“What?”

“We were working on…” Belatedly, I remember I haven’t told her about the interview for the paper. “We were working on our English project before school.”

“Hmmm,” Cassie hums again, her eyes glinting mischievously. “Interesting.”

“It wasn’t, really.”

“Okay.” Cassie drops the subject, reminding me why she’s my favorite person at this school. We talk about the trip her family is planning for spring break until we reach my locker. I’m barely focused on our conversation, paying closer attention to all the stares aimed my way.

Right as Cassie’s about to continue on to her own locker, I crack. “How often does Caleb drive girls to school?”

She stares at me, eyebrows raised. “That I’ve seen? Never.”

Never.

“Would you? Have…seen?”

“Yeah. I always get here pretty early. Only person I’ve seen him arrive with is Colt Adams.”

I look away, fiddling with the lock. “I didn’t think people would see. We were working on the project, and it made sense to drive together. How the hell was I supposed to know everyone loiters around the parking lot?”

“I guess you wouldn’t,” Cassie acquiesces. She knows I usually walk and come in through the back entrance. “But Caleb knows.”

“Yeah, I guess so,” I reply.

Caleb knew we’d been seen together, and didn’t care. I’m not sure why that matters to me so much, but there’s a strange warmth in my chest that remains even as I catch more than the usual amount of stares the rest of the day. These aren’t contemptuous. They’re intrigued, maybe a little awed.

Everyone seems to think something might have changed between Caleb and me. I hope they’ll quickly realize that’s not actually the case.

Me, most of all.