Page 162 of Holding On

"I was craving the chicken. I came here a couple Saturdays ago with the guys and I wanted to have the chicken again."

So he came here on a Saturday, when I wasn't working. Maybe he really is just here for the chicken. Now I'm embarrassed for accusing him of only being here because of me. But if he's no longer interested in me, why does he keep calling me?

"Max said you two have been hanging out," I say.

"Not a lot but a few times." He takes a drink of his pop, his large hand wrapped around the glass. Damn, I miss those hands, and what he does with them.

I look away.

"Are you on break?" he asks.

"Um, no. I just got off break."

"If you need to get back to work, go ahead. I don't want you to get in trouble."

He's sending me away? So I guess he's finally given up on me. He must have someone else. But why didn't Mike tell me? And why the hell didn't Mike let me know he'd been hanging out with Ethan?

"Max said my brother was at your party last week," I say, not ready to leave yet. I should, but I don't.

"Yeah. He and Heather came over," Ethan says, like it's no big deal.

"So, um...are you two friends or what?"

"Yeah. He didn't tell you?" Ethan grins a little. He knows Mike didn't tell me.

What the hell is going on here? Why are the guys in my life conspiring against me? Okay, maybe they're not conspiring but they're definitely keeping secrets.

"He didn't mention you two were friends."

"I haven't seen him much lately with football practice, which is why I invited him to the party."

Football practice. I almost forgot. His leg! I look under the table and see his leg is no longer in a cast.

"When did you get the cast off?"

"A few weeks ago. They took it off early because my leg was healing faster than expected."

"Ethan, that's great!" I smile, truly happy for him. I know how much he hated having his leg in a cast.

"Yeah. I'm finally able to move around again instead of being stuck on the couch. I actually leave the house now. In fact, I'm hardly ever home. I'm always at the gym or on the field."

"So you're going to play again?"

"Not right away, but I'm hoping by October."

"And...it's what you want?" I ask hesitantly.

He smiles. "Yeah. It's what I want."

And from his tone, I can tell it's true. So he made a decision, and it sounds like it's his decision, not his coach's or his dad's.

"I'm really happy for you," I tell him. "It seems like everything's coming together for you."

He glances down at his plate. "Yeah. I pretty much have everything I ever wanted."

Pretty much? What does that mean? It makes me wonder if his dad is being a jerk again.

"Are you having problems with your dad?" I ask, then realize I shouldn't have asked. It's too personal. He'll shut down.

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