Total pages in book: 133
Estimated words: 128156 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 641(@200wpm)___ 513(@250wpm)___ 427(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 128156 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 641(@200wpm)___ 513(@250wpm)___ 427(@300wpm)
My eyes don’t leave hers as I pull in a long breath, my rib cage shaking as I do.
“I’m grateful my dad gets to see me play, even if only on TV.” The words leave me before I realize I’ve thought them. The moment they do, an instant, almost overwhelming sense of determination flows through me. “I am so fucking grateful my dad gets to watch me play today.” I clap my hands three times.
Paige’s smile is almost too much to look at, the pride there undeserved but so fucking welcome. She cups her mouth, giving a little whoop that gets lost in the noise, but I hear it on the inside. Where it matters.
I hear and I hold on to it, and then I play a game that will go down in the Avix University record books, a smiling blond flashing through my mind as I do.
The next morning, when I’m sitting on the tailgate of my truck in an empty parking lot, I pull out my phone and type a quick message before I can talk myself out of it, putting it on silent the second I hit Send.
I might regret it later, but at this moment, it feels right.
That’s the thing, though, isn’t it?
Regret never asks for permission. It just shows up, blindsiding you before you even have the chance to see it coming.
“Why do you keep looking at your phone?”
I drop it to the picnic-style table, face down, finding both my friends frowning at me over steaming hot pizza. I want to lie, but I’ve been doing that so much and I’m tired of it.
“I sent Paige a message that I’m not sure I should have.”
They grin, leaning closer.
“Not anything crazy, but maybe a little too…much. I don’t know.”
“And clearly she hasn’t said anything back?” Mason eyes me.
“Nope.”
“The girls are meeting her for a late lunch here in a bit, and I think she’s still driving in from Oceanside. Maybe she hasn’t seen it,” Brady offers with a shrug.
“I sent it at seven this morning.”
Both wince and a low chuckle leaves me.
“Yeah.” I pull a piece of pizza onto my plate, and they follow suit.
“D money, pizza time!” Brady calls Mason’s son over from where he’s been posted on a little step stool the last ten minutes, right in front of the candy claw machine.
The little guy drops to his knees, half his body disappearing into the prize hole as he grabs all his loot in the lip of his shirt, before running over and climbing up beside his dad. “Look at all this stuff!” He smiles, setting it out in a nice and neat little row.
“Dang, little man, you got two Laffy Taffys! You must be really good at that game,” Mase says, playing along.
“Yep! I think I’m the winner!” He nods, reaching out for his apple juice and picking a piece of sausage off his pizza, popping it into his mouth.
Damn, he’s the cutest kid.
“Okay, so back to Paige.” Brady lifts a brow. “Ready to tell us you like her yet?”
“Uncle Chaser, you have crushes on Auntie Paige?” Deaton asks, cheese hanging off his lip.
“No, buddy.” I pin Brady with a glare. “I don’t.”
“She has pretty hair,” D says.
Mason grins, and I can’t help but laugh. “Yeah, she does. Really pretty hair.”
He goes back to ignoring us, taking a couple bites of pizza before tearing the crust off and carrying it with him back to the claw machine.
“Okay, so you may or may not have ‘crushes’ on Paige.” Brady grins, but then it falls. “But talk to us, man. What’s going on? Where you been? You ain’t home all that much, but if it’s not Paige you’re with, then who or what?”
I reach up, rubbing the back of my neck before looking my friends in the eye.
There is no one in my life I trust more than them, but to tell them my bullshit is to mess with their heads like my shit is messing with mine. I won’t be the reason they stay up at night, and if they found out about my financial situation, they would. They would rally and fight for me. I can’t let them do that. I made a lot of mistakes in the past, but I’m trying to be better and that meets protecting them from the hardships that are my own.
But I can give them something. I owe them that much.
I drop my face into my hands, groaning, then look up, unable to meet their stares when I say it, my emotions thick in my throat. “My mom left my dad.”
Silence.
A broken exhale leaves me, and my leg starts bouncing. Shaking my head, I peek at them, both sitting there stunned, but worry and confusion quickly replace their expressions.
“She…met someone online, and one day my dad came home from work, and she was gone. She didn’t even leave him a note. She fucking emailed him, telling him divorce papers would be in the mail soon and that was it.”