He closed his eyes a moment. "You didn't go to Perkins for middle school, did you?"
"No, I went to Rosewood."
"Well, if you'd gone to Perkins, you'd know. It's blown over for most people, but not for me."
His shoulders were hunched around his ears, and his expression had a tortured pinch to it. Faith reached out, slowly, and took his hand. "Whatever it is, I won't be shocked."
He laughed in an unfunny way. "Oh, I don't know about that."
She shook her head. He obviously needed to talk about this. "I won't."
His body went slack, like he was either giving up or giving in. Faith held completely still, gripping his hand so he had a lifeline. Finally, he said, "Like I said, it started in seventh grade. Cameron played on a different Little League team, and my team killed them every time. Cameron was a second baseman then, before he settled on football. One game, I had to slide. I came in hot, and he missed the tag, so I was safe. For some reason, that set him off. One insult too many from our team, I guess.
"He started with petty stuff. His friends pestered me, pulled nasty pranks." From the look on his face, Faith wondered just how nasty those pranks had been. "Made a fool of me in front of the girl I liked, taped my homework and tests all over the school like I told you, crap like that."
"But that's not all," Faith said, sure of it. "They cratered you at one point, didn't they?"
He nodded, looking away. "It was the week of baseball tryouts in eighth grade. Most of the guys at Perkins saw me as this shrimp-I was a lot shorter then-and someone to beat on. Cade and I were bullied all through middle school, not just by Cameron, but by everyone with a bone to pick. So by then, I was pretty worn down."
She squeezed his hand. "I'm so sorry."
"It's over now. You need to understand what happened, though. They all knew I had an arm on me, even then. They'd seen me play in Little League. So when I went out for the Perkins team … "
His voice cracked, and he paused. Faith edged closer to him, sensing his pain. It was so close to the surface, her own heart ached, and she didn't even know why he'd been hurt. "What happened?"
"For the first two days of camp, I smoked the guys trying out for outfielder. I outhit, outcaught, and outthrew every last one of them. Including Cameron. I made that jackass look like a fool. If you wonder why he only does football and track, I'm why." Kyle's face broke into a brittle smile. "King of the grass. That's what the assistant coach called me. And it pissed the jocks off. This shrimp, this nothing, coming in and blowing them all away."
He let out a deep breath. "Anyway, on the last day, the real tryout day, I went into the locker room to change. While I was in there, in my freaking underwear, Cameron and two of his buddies grabbed me. They taped my mouth shut and tied my hands behind my back. Then, before locking me in the broom closet, one pinned me against the wall while Cameron wrote ‘loser' on my forehead with Sharpie." He shook his head, cheeks red. "Not the way I wanted to find out that Sharpie comes off skin with rubbing alcohol. Anyway, they'd waited late enough that all the coaches were already outside. No one heard me kicking the door. One of Cameron's friends came back to let me out after tryouts were over and almost everyone had gone."
Kyle's fist clenched around Faith's hand, but she didn't let go. She leaned against him. "What happened then?"
"They'd told the coach I changed my mind, saying that I'd said ‘this public school ball was for pansies' and that I'd gone back to my select team." He turned to look at her, and the hurt in his eyes made tears well up in hers. "They'd also taken all my clothes. All of them. There I was, crying like an ass, Sharpie on my forehead, and I had nothing to wear. I had to hide from the coaches and call my grandpa to come get me. He wanted to tell the coaches what happened, but I just … couldn't. I was too embarrassed. How would the coaches like having a punching bag on the team, no matter how well he caught?"
"That is the meanest thing I've ever heard," Faith said, anger lighting a fire in her skin. God, Cameron was such a malicious little prick. Was she really that blind not to see it? She'd been with him for six months. He must've been careful not to show that part of himself. If she'd known, she would've left him much sooner. "I have half a mind to kick Cameron in the balls the next time I see him."
"It doesn't matter," Kyle said, heat coloring his tone. His face was frozen in a frown, and he kept bouncing his leg in a nervous tic. "Don't you get it? I let him win. I was too weak to stand up for what I wanted. If any of this happened to me now, I would've gone out to the field naked, not giving one shit. But he tormented me over and over. So when we got home that night, Grandpa and I talked about how to change things, and that's how Kyle Sawyer, delinquent badass, was born. Lucky for me, I grew five inches the summer between eighth and ninth grade. From there, it was easy. I started dressing in black tees and hoodies. Didn't give anyone the time of day. Picked up a skateboard, though that's pretty much for show, because Coach would kill me if I got hurt. And I made damn sure to kick a sophomore bully's ass the very first week of high school-broke his nose and got in-school suspension. The fact that he started it was the only reason I wasn't expelled. Grandpa was proud as hell, but I didn't enjoy it. That guy's not me-it's a persona. So when I say I'm not who you think I am, I really mean it."
I knew it. I knew it. She bit back a smile. "Wait, are you saying you aren't a delinquent?"
"No." He slipped his hand out of hers. "I'm not anything you think I am. Except a liar. That, I excel at."
"So," she said, giving him a shrewd look. "You don't like working on lawns?"
"No, I like that. I love it, actually. Which no one would ever believe."
"And you don't love baseball?" she asked.
"No, I do, it's just-"
"And you don't love your truck more than your badass Charger?"
"Well, I love them both, but for different reasons … what are you doing?"
Faith gave his arm a bracing pat. "Wondering why you think I don't know you. The real you."
"But … " Now he was frowning.
"No buts. I know you."
"You're too smart for your own good, Faith," he grumbled.
She noticed how his knee had stopped bouncing. Confession really was good for the soul. "Well, I know the Charger's yours, so the badass car isn't a lie." She cocked her head. "Do you drag race?"
The corners of his mouth lifted. "Only when douches in tricked-out Hondas gun their engines."
"Well, who doesn't?" she said, and he laughed. "And given the huge house, I don't think you shoplift, either."
"Definitely not. Well, except for a candy bar in sixth grade. I ate it on the way to the register, and a friend dared me to walk out. I did." He turned to her and the smile grew. "I felt so guilty that I left a dollar next to the register the next day."
And there he was-the real Kyle. The guy who loved plants as much as people, who paid attention when she talked, who danced with her when her own partner wouldn't. The same boy who called her dad "sir" and made her mom laugh. The solid, quiet, sweet, hardworking boy no one really knew.
Except her.
"You're a big softy." Relieved to see him smile, she reached out and ran her fingers along his shoulder. "And the tattoo?"
His eyes fell half closed. "That's real."
"Show me," she whispered.
Kyle flushed and stared at the floor.
She reached down for the hem of his shirt and gave it a little tug. "Please?"
"You've already seen it," he mumbled.
He sounded so shy, which surprised her after all the shirtless gardening last week. It made her want to see that tattoo even more-to run her fingers along it and feel the muscles beneath. An ache filled her middle. It wasn't just the tattoo she wanted to see.
"I haven't seen it up close."
He raised his head and met her eyes. There was something uncertain, but hungry, scared, and longing in his gaze. And she knew, right then, what was making her ache, and why. Her heart stuttered. She'd been so scared to admit it, thinking he was the wrong guy at the wrong time, unable to understand why he kept pushing her away.
But he was also the boy who saved her at rehearsal. Who took her to the arboretum for a date. Who made her crazy, uncertain, excited, and joyful all at once. Mom had seen through his facade last week … and Faith's, too.
"Kyle?" She reached for his hands and pulled up him up so they were standing, facing each other. "You don't have to take off your shirt. But … " Her heart banged painfully in her chest. God, this was it, wasn't it? She finally found the one guy who could turn her life upside down in the most perfect way.
She cleared her throat. "It's just … I finally figured out you're the guy I've been looking for. Not the delinquent Kyle, but the guy who turned my backyard into something beautiful. The Kyle who danced with me and took me to see an azalea garden. And especially the Kyle who was hurt a few years ago, but bounced back. You might be embarrassed by all that, but I'm not. It's part of you, and I like who you are. And it's not the tattoo I want to see. It's you. I want to see you. All of you."