Same with your mom. So don’t even try to apologize for them.”
“Fine.”
“I’ll talk to you later.”
I close the door behind him, then join Jason and Alana in the kitchen to clean the last of the dishes.
Jason and I sit on the front porch swing holding hands, pressed into each other.
“What happened when everyone was leaving?” he asks.
“Arissa wasn’t happy about Hunter giving me a kiss on the cheek and Mom gave him a little piece of her mind.”
“Just a little?” His cheek tenses into my head from the grin I know is on his face.
“Yeah. Dad didn’t let her finish.”
He chuckles. “I bet that went over well.”
“As well as mixing oil and water.”
“Should I talk to Arissa again along with your mom?”
“Only if you want to.”
“I’m driving back to school on Sunday,” he informs me.
I don’t respond, unsure where he is taking this.
“I still don’t have a plan for you,” he whispers.
“I didn’t expect you to come up with a plan while you were helping put everything together for today.”
“But I wanted you to come with me.” Disappointment weighs down his words.
I hate how it makes him feel, but my answer is about me. “I know you do. I would love to if we can figure everything out first. Just because I don’t go with you now, doesn’t mean I won’t ever go.”
He stares at his lap. The faucet of tears creaking from the slow turn.
I rest my head on his shoulder. “We can plan while you’re away, you know. I’m not going anywhere.”
He lays his head on mine. “I don’t know if I’m ready to go back.”
“Then stay.”
“I can’t leave the team, Parker. Practices start next week.”
I run my thumb across the back of his hand. “You haven’t even started yet.”
“No, but I committed to the team. They’re counting on me. I have to at least stay the season.” Determined to be strong and selfless in his mourning. A different kind of stubborn. The kind where you break if you keep giving of yourself without taking a little in return.
“If that’s what you want to do, okay. But I think they’d understand given the circumstances.”
He sighs.
“Does your coach even know?” I ask, sitting up and facing him.
“Yeah. I had to tell him so he knows why I’m not in my classes when they check with my professors,” he answers, returning my gaze.
“What did he say?”
“He said to take my time.”
“There’s your answer.”
He leans back and closes his eyes. “It’s overwhelming.”
“Then take a break. Either withdraw from classes or transfer to the community college and only take a class or two. You can’t do it all.”
He rolls his head towards me and cracks his eyes open a fraction. “You did.”
“Out of necessity, J. It was do it or die. You saw the cast on my arm. You saw all those times I wasn’t myself. You saw him beating me just because I was trying to get away.
“Look at me now. I’m not trying to do it all. It’s one day at a time, all the time. I also had the benefit of therapy. You’re dealing with something much different.”
“It’s school and basketball.”
I shift on the swing to fully face him, causing a jarring rock. “I lived under what I thought was normal circumstances my entire life. There isn’t a moment I remember that wasn’t about beatings, the rules, the chores, or my schoolwork.
“You’re dealing with living away from home with three other guys, studying, basketball, and losing your dad.” I tell him all this, knowing he’s beating himself up internally and I hate it. It must be what it was like for him all those times I did the same to myself. “Remember the conversation I had with our moms on Saturday?”
“Yeah.”
“Mom reminded me that I can’t compare our relationship to anyone else’s, because it’s not the same. It will never be like anyone else’s. You can’t compare yourself to me, either. It’s not the same and never will be.”
His fingers cross my face in a languid stroke, like he’s trying to memorize every detail. “I love that you’re so smart.”
“I don’t know about smart. Sam called it insight.”
Moist eyes gaze at me with adoration. “Smart. Insight. Whatever you want to call it. I still love it. I love you, Parker.” He moves in, his lips playing with mine.
No fire. No storm. No hunger. No hurry.
Just love. Sweet and innocent.
CHAPTER SEVENTY-FOUR
Arissa cracks my bedroom door open as I pull on denim shorts. “Hunter, Jason, and Alana are here to help