moving to Northwood. In the last few times I’d partied with the baseball team, I’d seen a kid drive his car into Noah’s front garden, someone fall out of a tree, a bonfire rage out of control and six guys sink a paddle boat in the lake during a midnight race.
I looked down at Franken-boot. Yeah, one sprained ankle was more than enough for me.
“Sorry, I’ve got a checkup with my doc next week and I’m not adding more time to my sentence in this boot.”
“Not even to party with us?”
“Sorry, mates. Tie one on for me, though. Go Trojans.”
“Go Trojans!” the guys echoed.
I sighed, grateful they were so easily distracted. I congratulated them again and hung up the phone, climbing back into my bed.
Even though Layne was still sitting there, her face bright and unassuming, the reality I’d been trying to avoid came crashing back in.
This wasn’t my real life. In a week, the competition would be over, and I wouldn’t have an angel distracting me from my bleak future. My ankle hurt just thinking about it. I undid the straps and loosened the boot so my foot could breathe.
I’d forgotten to take any Tylenol today and hadn’t had time to ice my ankle at all. Normally, having Layne around was all the pain relief I needed. But my sudden reality check was sobering me from the euphoria she normally made me feel.
I was aware of her eyes on me as I massaged my swollen ankle. I tried to wiggle my toes and hissed in pain. Layne was instantly by my side. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine.”
“Do you need some ice or something?”
“Tylenol would probably help. It’s on my dresser.”
She climbed off my bed and returned with the pills, handing me a water bottle from my nightstand. “Can I get you anything else?”
I shook my head. Layne put the pill bottle back and climbed into my bed again, settling closer to me this time. “I think you may have overdone it on stage, Donny,” she teased.
“Hey, I was Donny and Marie, thank you very much.”
She giggled. “How did you know your crazy plan would work tonight?”
“I didn’t.”
“Really? You didn’t think I’d get up on stage with you?”
I shook my head. “I knew you could, and I hoped you would, but I was never going to force you to do something you didn’t want to do.”
“Well, I’m glad I did it. It really convinced me that I need to stop being so afraid of everything if I ever want my music to have a chance.”
I nodded. “It’s all about trust.”
“Trust?”
“Yeah, you’ve got to learn to trust yourself, your instincts, your talent . . . your partner,” I added, wiggling my eyebrows.
She knocked her shoulder into mine and grinned. “So, where did you learn all this trust stuff?”
I huffed a laugh. “It’s more like trust issues in my house.”
“Your mom doesn’t seem so bad,” Layne said.
“She’s not.”
“So, then why the trust issues?”
Why did this keep coming up tonight? I looked down at my lap, wondering how best to avoid dredging up all the bad memories I associated with my father. All the times he’d let me down, choosing work and clients over me, telling me I wasn’t good enough when he did bother to show up.
“I mean, I get it,” Layne said. “I have a hard time trusting people after my dad ditched me.”
My eyes met hers and she sighed, picking at an invisible spec on my comforter.
“I was eight when he left,” she said. “He went to work one day, emptied our bank account and just disappeared like we didn’t matter at all. Like he wasn’t abandoning us and ruining our lives.” Her dark eyes met mine. “I know it wasn’t my fault he left, I do, but the thing I hate most is that no matter what I tell myself, he still took a part of me that I’ll never get back. The part that believed people were good, that part that believed in hopes and dreams and love.”
She took a breath and let it out slowly. “And I hate him so much for what he did to my mom. It’s almost like I lost two parents when he left us. I know he hurt me, but he devastated her. And now she works so much that I barely see her. And when she is around, she’s too exhausted to do anything with me. It’s not her fault and I don’t blame her, but I know how it feels to