Play On - Michelle Smith Page 0,74
the darkest of dark places, he was thinking of you. That he loved you guys more than anything. That you still meant everything to him. He wanted you to remember that.”
That sounds good. It sounds like a nice, sugar-coated explanation, one that Momma would’ve given me if I were, say, five. But it doesn’t make sense. “If he loved us so much,” I say, “wouldn’t he have fought for that? Isn’t that worth fighting for?”
Her face falls. And now I’m a total asshole, but years of pent-up confusion is bubbling in my stomach. I’m doing the best I can here.
“Do you win every fight you get into, Austin?” she finally says. “Do you win every game?”
My shoulders drop. She smiles, a sad smile. “For years, I’ve fought a war in my head, so I may be a little biased here,” she continues. “It’s hard to bring people into that war, even if they’re willing allies who want to help. And when you fight alone, sometimes…” She pauses. “It’s hard to win a battle you’re fighting alone.”
Thinking back to the days before Dad died, I can’t remember a single time when he seemed anything less than happy. He always had a grin on his face. He never missed a game. He kissed Momma like the sun shined just for her. He patted me on the back after every loss, stayed up with me every night I wanted to talk stats and teams and colleges. Never once did he ask for help. Never once did I ever think he was less than perfect. If he was depressed, if he needed to talk, I wish he’d known Momma and I were right there, ready to listen.
I look back to Marisa, giving her a shaky smile. “I’m gonna say this, and then I think we need to change the subject before I start cryin’ in front of half the town. We don’t ‘put up’ with the people we care about, Marisa. We don’t ‘deal’ with them. We’re just there because we lo—” I clear my throat. “Because we care. I care. I’ve got your back, girl. So for the love of all that’s holy, promise me you won’t try fighting alone.”
She swallows audibly, gripping my hand even tighter. It’s unimaginable that two weeks ago, she looked at me with more disdain than I could have fathomed. It broke my damn heart. Now, she’s looking at me with the same gaze as her first day working in the shop. She’s looking at me like I’m everything and the only thing that matters, which is fine because right now, she’s my everything.
“I’ll promise if you make me a deal,” she says. “When I say that I’m okay, I want you to look in my eyes, really look. And if you know I’m lying, tell me. Don’t let me lie to you again.”
I nod. “You’ve got a deal.”
And she kisses me. I close my eyes, letting go of her hand to wrap my arm around her shoulders. As she pulls away, my lips tingle, already missing her. She stares at me for a while, like she’s searching for something. She must find what she’s looking for because she smiles.
“What?”
She shakes her head. “It’s crazy. You’ll think I’m downright certifiable.”
She kisses me again, moving onto my lap and straddling me. Not entirely sure where that came from, but there are some things you just don’t question. My pulse pounds as I hold her close. And when she pulls away this time, her smile’s still in place, still as perfect, still as gorgeous.
As she rests her forehead against mine, I grab onto her hips loosely. “Thank you,” she whispers. “For being here. For being terrified and for not running away for good.”
It’s my turn to smile. “Part of being your boyfriend is being a friend. It’s kind of key. I’m not goin’ anywhere.”
“I know that now.” Her lips ghost mine, sending shocks to every nerve in my body. “Should we get out of the grass? I’m sure we’ve got an audience by now. Baptist News Network and all that.”
No damn way. Tightening my arms around her, I shake my head. “I’m not goin’ anywhere, remember?”
I don’t care if they’re watching. Nothing else matters but the way my heart is about to crash through my chest and the fact that I’m going to combust if I go one more second without kissing this girl. So I do, because I’m not a fan of combustion.
Screw the Baptist News Network.
Someone behind us