Page 64 of The Forever Game

“You don’t know all the details?”

I shake my head. “No.”

“Why not?”

“Because I…” A breath whooshes out of me.Because I didn’t ask. Because I was too busy yelling at her for being a lousy, rude friend.

“Ethan, why the hell are you sitting here sulking?”

I frown, not wanting to look at her as I pick at an invisible speck on my pants.

“Why didn’t you offer to drive her?” Her voice gets a touch sharper, and I sit back, surprised by Rachel’s aggravation. She’s usually super chill and sweet, but I can sense her about to rip into me. “You should have gone with her. Axel’s an ass. She told me all about him. And I know she’s tough enough to handle him, but still… it’s stressful for her. And now she’s dealing with the stress of knowing you’re pissed off as well.”

Running my hand through my hair, I cringe, hating this lecture but not having it in me to walk away from it.

“You know, she has always supported your career. She’s never once complained about all those times you’re away. You have no idea how much she misses you, do you?”

I swallow, daring to glance at Rachel. She gives me a pained frown.

“She pined for you when you moved to Centennial, but she refused to let you see that because she didn’t want you torn between her and something you love.” She huffs. “And the number of games she made the effort to go to, even when she got slammed on social media for not being pretty enough for you.”

“She’s gorgeous,” I argue. “Fuck those trolls. And I told them that.”

Rachel closes her eyes, looking sad as she pats my arm. “Why aren’t you supporting her through this the way she’s always supported you?”

“I’ve been trying.” My voice sounds feeble and small. “She needs to quit this job. It’s bringing out the worst in her, and I’m desperate to make her see that, but she won’t let me. How do I make her understand? She hates this job.”

“Yeah.” Rachel nods with a sigh. “But you know how sometimes you have to figure stuff out on your own? Mikayla is stubborn, and she’s fiercely independent. She hates asking for help.”

I scoff, knowing it all too well.

“And she hates being bossed around.”

“Which is why this job is killing her,” I grit out.

“And it’s why her husband shouldn’t be doing the same thing.”

Guilt swamps me and I clench my jaw, fisting my fingers and wanting to fucking run from this conversation.

Rachel’s gentle hand on my arm keeps me still. “Mick will figure it out. Right now, she’s just afraid that she’s not good enough to find what she really wants. She’s worried that she’s not smart enough to handle law school. She’s afraid that if she leaves this job, she’ll never get another chance again. She doesn’t realize yet how truly brilliant she is and that there are so many pathways to get to where she wants to be.” Her lips tip up in a sad smile. “You need to be there for her. She can’t hear your logic when you’re complaining. She’s feeling torn, and it’s eating her up. I can tell. Don’t make things worse.”

“I don’t know what to do,” I rasp. “I don’t know how to help her.” My voice breaks, emotion taking me out on all sides until I feel like I’m about to cry.

“You could always start with ‘What do you need, Mick?’ or ‘How can I best help you through this?’ or ‘Wow, you’re so amazing the way you work so hard.’ That kinda thing.”

My insides buckle, regret pounding me like a battering ram.

Am I too fucking late?

“I don’t know where she’s gone,” I rasp.

“So, call her. Ask. Find out.”

Ripping the phone from my pocket, I dial her number, but she doesn’t answer me. I try again, but it goes directly to voicemail, which means she’s intentionally ignoring my calls. So, I text.

We need to talk. Please call me back, okay?

The message is instantly read, but she doesn’t reply. I wait a full ten minutes, but she gives me nothing.

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