Still, even with the mess of his face, he looks… reserved? Nervous? I’m not sure what to call it, because I’ve never seen such a look on his face. Jake chews his bottom lip and takes a deep breath, which weirds me out even more. How hard did that Tetherman kid clock him?
Then he speaks.
“I know you don’t want to talk to me, or anyone. And I don’t blame you, but I have something I need you to hear.” I slam the weights onto the rack. He’s standing on the other side of the bench from me; less than a foot separates us. His back is to Grey, who is side-eyeing us as he runs through some dynamic warm-ups none of us ever take the time to do. “I’m glad you’re here.”
He looks relieved when I manage a smile back. “Thanks. Spot me?”
Then I lie down and flip my ponytail over the end of the bench so it won’t jam me in the skull as I complete my set. Jake takes his place behind the bar.
And I lift.
“Can I come in?”
I knew this would happen.
Danielle has been keeping a close eye on me ever since I came home crying Friday night. Now it’s Sunday after dinner and she’s finally taking her chance.
Danielle never passes up an opportunity to dig in. Make progress. Needle at a sore spot until it goes butter-smooth.
I punch out a breath. “Yeah.”
The door taps against the frame and Danielle crosses to my bed, stacking three notebooks and a giant copy of Modern Physics to make room before squeezing in next to me on the comforter.
“What’s going on?”
My cheeks immediately pinking—traitors—I blink at her. The silence begins to stretch into the nether reaches of awkward, and I know she’s not planning to save me from myself. Where in the hell do I even begin? I take a deep breath. “I—”
“She found out her boyfriend-slash-fellow-quarterback was using her to get back at his ex-girlfriend.” Ryan fills the doorway, arms crossed, game-day glare pulled protectively across his brows.
“Ryan,” I whine before flinging all six hundred pages of Modern Physics at him—going for the gut instead of his head, because I’d rather not know another teenage boy with a concussion.
Ever the soccer player, he deflects the book with his hip and it flops on the hardwood with a massive thud. “What? It’s been all over school.” Ryan holds up his phone, lit up with unread texts and Instagram notifications—all probably warning him of (or maybe just recounting) my parking lot meltdown. “It’s not like everyone doesn’t know already.”
Danielle groans. “Well, I didn’t know.”
My gut twists and I so wish I had told her everything from day one. It all pours out as I recap everything except for Grey’s concussion, and with each word, I realize more and more what Monday is going to look like for me. I felt like a badass staring down those boys in the locker room on Saturday, but tomorrow? At school? It’s going to be brutal. Half the student body saw our fight—my heart and Grey’s betrayal out there in the open in the fading Friday night lights.
Tears are welling in my eyes by the time I finish, the weight of it all slamming down.
It doesn’t even matter that I showed up on Saturday. School is still going to be hell. And softball won’t happen—not if a pissed-off Grey gets in Coach Kitt’s ear.
For a split second, the worst part of me comes up for air. Because I know something about Grey that his mother doesn’t.
It would be so easy to tell her about his concussion. To tell Coach Lee. Coach Shanks. The doc might clear him, but they’d still have to run tests. Hold him out of practice and games. At least until he’s cleared—long enough to make it that much harder for him to get the full ride he wants.
It’s all plausible. With just a few simple words, I could do that to him. And with a few simple words, he could steer Coach Kitt back into my corner.
But I can’t.
I blink away the temptation and come back into myself, this room, this conversation.
Danielle’s eyes are pure fury. “Is this why you were so upset Friday night? Grey? Why didn’t you say anything?”
“It doesn’t matter.”
Danielle wraps me into a hug and the tears drop. “Of course it does. This is some major shit, Liv. Major. You shouldn’t have to go through this by yourself.”
I shove away from her. “Are you kidding? I’ve been suffering alone since May! All of you just stood by and nodded along with Dad as he pulled me from Windsor Prep and lectured me about learning my lesson. And now you want me to spill my guts and hope you’ll want to listen? Why is this situation any more major than last summer?”
The words fall out of my mouth and I immediately know I’ve made it even worse. If only self-sabotage were an Olympic sport. I’d have a gold medal.
Danielle’s mouth drops open. “That’s not true! I’ve been here for you, I’ve—”
“Bullshit!” I say. Temper unsatisfied and stoked by sudden regret, I stalk across the room, scoop up the physics book, and chuck it again. It whacks off the wall and onto my bed with a thud.
“Liv!” Danielle grips anew, clutching my shoulders, dark eyes on fire. “Calm down! This is ridiculous! I’ve always supported you—I offered to pay your tuition, and Mom and Dad wouldn’t let me. You think I didn’t want you on my team? You’re my baby sister—I will always want you with me!”
I’m too stunned to speak—Danielle offered to pay my tuition to Windsor Prep? And I didn’t know?
“What’s going on?” Dad and Mom appear in the hallway, concerned looks on their faces.
Ryan and Danielle both look to me. My spine stiffens and the tip of my chin tilts up, pointing straight at my parents. I take in Dad’s planted feet and crossed arms; Mom’s woozy stance, exhaustion trying to override her attention. I wouldn’t blame Heather if she’s hiding in the kitchen.
“Dad, you were right.” I take a breath. “I was used. Used big-time. All of it came out Friday.”
Mom immediately goes in to rub my arm while Dad asks, “Do I need to talk to Coach Lee?”
I shake my head, but a tear rolls down my cheek.
Dad licks his lips, the rest of him still and stunned. He’s never seen me like this. “We need to talk about what happened—why didn’t you say anything?”
Ryan scoffs. Like, literally scoffs. “After state you guys treated her like absolute shit—sorry, Mom—and then like a baby when she tried to make a rational decision. Finally, you’re happy and proud? Come on, guys. That’s total bullshit.”
Ryan takes a swift step toward me, all anger swept away as he pulls me into his chest and needles that pointy chin into my shoulder. I just yelled at him and this is what he does. I don’t deserve him or Danielle. At all.
Through blurred eyes, I watch as Dad sighs. “Liv, do you want to leave the team?”
The question rolls into the air so easily that it’s almost difficult to recall how impossible it was to convince him that I could make my own decisions—that I wasn’t a child. That it didn’t take nearly my whole family ganging up on him to let me stand by my choice. I don’t feel like I’ve won anything other than another scar.