When You Come Back to Me (Lost Boys #2) - Emma Scott Page 0,34

waitress at a diner. “Here we are, Whitmores. Breakfast is served.”

“You’re too good to us,” Dad said brightly but then hesitated over his plate a moment before diving in. Eating his food without tasting it. A job to get done.

I knew how he felt. When Dazia set a plate of scrambled eggs, bacon, and a wedge of cantaloupe in front of me, I could hardly stand the smell. I forced myself for Dazia’s sake.

She set a bowl of oatmeal in front of Mom, and I watched, my heart climbing out of my throat, as Mom closed her eyes and laid her hand on her stomach.

“I’m so sorry, River,” she said faintly. “I wanted to watch you play today so badly. And the parade after. To see all those people cheering for you…” She swallowed hard. “But I think I need to go lie down.”

I nodded, not trusting my voice.

“Amelia, come and tell me all about it later.”

“Okay.”

Mom started to rise, and Dad jumped to his feet to help her.

“Finish your breakfast, honey,” Mom said. “Dazia, do you mind…?”

Dad sat back down while Mom spared me a final smile and slowly, leaning heavily on her friend, retreated to her room.

Silence fell where none of us spoke or touched a fork or spoon. Suddenly, a scraping of chair against tile sounded and Amelia hurriedly ran from the room, hair flying, a hand clasped over her mouth.

“Big day,” Dad said, his voice thick. “It’s going to be a great game. The launchpad to your future.”

A future he almost had but was stolen from him. And now his future with Mom was eroding right before our eyes.

“Yeah, Dad,” I said and managed my own smile for him. “It’ll be great.”

“You ready for this?” Donte smashed his fists on my shoulder pads. “We are going to destroy them with our signature Whitmore-to-Weatherly Bomb up the right sideline. Their defense is going to go home questioning their will to live. Am I right?”

“Hell yeah,” I managed. “Accept nothing less.”

“That’s my boy!” He brought his fists down a final time and then stormed around the locker room, psyching up the other players until it was loud with cheers and smack talk.

Chance Blaylock, half-dressed in our blue and gold uniform, shoved his bulky bare chest against my arm. “What’s wrong, Whitmore? You look ready to cry in your Wheaties.”

“Fuck off, Blaylock.” I shoved him roughly under the pretense of pre-game testosterone overload. “The only crying happening today is going to be on the Soquel bench.”

“I heard that. But goddamn, we’re lucky I’m here. That asshole, Parish, nearly fucked us big time.”

I bent to tie my laces, concealing a sour grimace.

Even without Chance, I was going to throw for at least two touch downs and two hundred yards. The Soquel Saints had no defense. This was a gimme game against a low-ranked team meant to make us look good. Make me look good in front of the scouts. The whole thing felt wrong. Dishonorable. But nothing else in the world was going to make my dad happy.

“You should see the sweet table Parish’s uncle sent us to replace the other one,” Chance was saying. “My parents should be thanking me that I had that dickhead at the party. Hell, Holden probably picked the table out of the catalogue himself, if you know what I mean.”

I slammed my locker shut, a cold feeling spreading through my gut. “No. I don’t know what you mean.”

“Yeah, you do. He looks like the kind of guy who spends a lot of time flipping through fashion magazines. And what kind of name is Holden?”

“It’s from Catcher in the Rye,” I said instead of something I’d regret. Or beating his ass.

“Huh?”

“It’s a book about an outcast. A guy who feels like the entire world is drowning him in bullshit.”

Chance frowned stupidly. “So?”

“So…that’s who he might be named after.” I turned back to my locker. “Never mind. The book has no pictures in it. You wouldn’t get it.”

He laughed and gave me a good-natured shove that made me want to rip his arm off.

“Oooh, Whitmore, laying the smack down! I keep forgetting you’re practically half nerd yourself. But hey, whatever fires you up, because today is the day we become legends.”

Chance joined the locker room rowdiness, and I sucked in a deep breath to calm the hell down. His jokes about Holden were tame compared to what I’d heard in the past and would only get worse in college. It was as if there were an