Don't Make Me Beautiful Read Online Free PDF Page B

cooler.   The air conditioning vents don’t treat all spaces equally and he hates sleeping in a hot room.   Liam’s door is closed.
    Walking over to close his door, his eye catches the baseball on the stand on top of his dresser.   It’s off-kilter just the smallest bit, but it’s enough to cause his heart to sink.   I should have known it would be too tempting.   His decision to keep the stand at a level Liam could reach seems foolhardy in hindsight.
    Closing the door, he turns to walk the other direction.   Down the hall a few paces puts him at Liam’s door.   He knocks softly, the sound of his son’s weeping coming through the hollow-core door.
    “Liam, can I come in?”
    “No,” comes his muffled response.   “I need to be alone.”
    “I’d really like to come in and talk, son.”
    “No, Dad.   Not right now.   Later.”
    Brian sighs.   Of course he could just open the door and force the conversation on his young son, but instead he decides to let Liam handle this on his own.   At least for now.   Liam needs to have the experience of battling his emotions and coming to terms with them without Brian babying him through the process.   He’s not sure who it’s going to be harder for, though, Liam or him.   He goes back to his bedroom and takes a closer look at the ball.
    Picking it up, he can see that it’s been hit more than that one time at the Marlins’ ball field.   There are two additional scuffs on the white leather and one of them is right on top of Wilson’s autograph.   Not that the ball’s monetary value was the true measure of its worth for Brian, but he can’t help thinking how it just went down significantly.   Brian sighs and then shrugs.   Damn kids.   Always looking for trouble.   The ball is no longer in pristine condition, but what the heck … at least it has another memory attached to it he’s sure they’ll laugh about later.
    As he’s putting the ball back in the holder, he feels a sharp prick and yanks his hand back, dropping the ball on the ground.   The first finger of his right hand has a pinprick of blood on it.   Looking at it closer, Brian sees the tiniest sliver of glass sticking out of his skin.
    “What the hell?” he says out loud into the room.   Moving to the attached bathroom, he finds enough light enough to confirm there is, in fact, some glass stuck in his finger pad.   He uses tweezers to take it out and then soaps his hand to make sure there will be no infection later.   His job is all about hand-work and he can’t afford to lose the ability to use his fingers.
    He mulls over the situation as he finishes cleaning up.   No wonder Liam’s so miserable.   Not only did he take the ball and play with it, it looks like he also put it through someone’s window.   Great.   I wonder how much that’s going to set me back in dollars and neighborly relations.   They’d only been in the neighborhood for four months, his first bachelor pad since the divorce was finalized.   Now he’s going to have to bake some brownies or something to smooth over the ruffled feathers.   He puts on a bandage and turns out the light, leaving his room for the kitchen.
    If memory serves, there’s a box of fudge brownie mix in the pantry and he has the eggs and oil he’ll need to put it all together without having to grocery shop.

Chapter Nine

    SHE JUMPS A LITTLE WHEN the front door slams shut.
    “Honey, I’m home!”   John says loudly, dropping his tool belt on the ground by the door with a loud bang.   “Where are ya?”
    “I’m in here,” Nicole says, clearing her throat to get the frog out.   Fear has her voice sounding strangled.
    He comes into the living room with a big bouquet of flowers in his hand and a huge smile lighting up his face.   “Got these for ya.”
    She smiles, her lips only trembling a little.   “Thank you.   They’re really pretty.”
    “Don’t you want to put them in water?” he asks, standing there in the