Page 48 of Don't Let Go

“Do I want to know what happened between you and Paolo?”

I shook my head. Tears pricked my eyes. I couldn’t keep myself contained anymore, and I buried my face into my hands and wept.

“Wah! What’s wrong?” His voice was soft and filled with concern. At least someone understood my pain, even if he didn’t know what I was going through.

I sniffed, wiping my face with the sides of my hands, but it was no use. I couldn’t stop crying. “Today is the second anniversary of my papà's death. None of my siblings seem to give a damn. None of my friends answered my calls. Paolo asked if I wanted to go on an adventure, but it was a drug deal, so I faked sick. He ditched me in one of the worst parts of town. And now I can’t stop crying.” I couldn’t stop talking; it kept coming out like word vomit.

“I’m sorry, drug deal? Your dad died two years ago today?” He sighed. “Damn. That’s a lot of info to process. I think I know what might cheer you up, though.”

“What?” The word caught in my throat. It felt like it was getting harder to breathe.

“Just relax. You can trust me.”

I leaned back in my seat and closed my eyes. Oddly enough, I did trust him. I trusted Tyler more than anyone else right now.

23

Tyler

We spent a few hours walking around Tempe Beach Park. The sun had set, and the twinkling lights from the two bridges over the lake were reflected in the dark waters like little fairies in a vast void of blackness. The moon hung in the sky like a Cheshire cat smile, but the park was well-lit with streetlights. We didn’t talk as we walked around that lake at least half a dozen times. The silence felt natural. We understood each other’s pain, and we needed to be together in our deepest and most excruciating thoughts. Our hands briefly brushed a couple of times. I wanted to hold her hand and pull her in close, allowing her to unload all her sadness onto me, but I wasn’t her boyfriend. Paolo may have been an asshole, but he was still in the picture, so I couldn’t bring myself to take that kind of step toward Rory.

It was close to ten o’clock when we drove home. I parked the car, and we sat there with the radio softly singing a love ballad.

“Thank you for rescuing me and for simply being there. I needed that today.” Rory leaned across the center console and kissed my cheek.

“No problem,” I said, opening my car door.

We walked into the house and parted ways into our bedrooms. I wanted Rory to explain why Paolo was doing a drug deal and how she said it so smoothly like it wasn’t that big of a deal. That wasn’t the kind of question to ask on a heavy day like this. I kept my questions to myself until a more appropriate time.

The final bell rang—school was over for the day. Since I woke up, I’ve been going back and forth about talking to Rory about last night and whether I should join South Ridge’s basketball team. I didn’t want to invade her privacy, so I pushed that to the back burner and focused on the crisis at hand.

To some, it might seem like an easy answer: I loved basketball and wanted to play professionally in and out of college. Sounded cut and dry, yet a part of me made me drag my feet to the gym. I didn’t want to wear a different uniform or a different number. I didn’t want to figure out how to play with a bunch of new guys, especially Paolo, who hated my guts because I was forced to live in Rory’s house. That was the only reason I could think of. Well, there would be two if I joined the team.

Before I pushed the steel door open, I could hear the team dribbling basketballs and their sneakers squeaking on the wood floor. I clenched my jaw and thought for a moment about whatwould happen if I walked away, getting into my car, and driving off.

My future had always been the same since I learned how to play ball with my old man. We’d bullshit and make bets on which team would pick me during drafts. My dad wanted me to stay in Arizona. I wanted to go to California, still close to home, and their team was so much better than Arizona’s.

Now I was here. No father to bet with or a single person to cheer for me as I crossed the stage for graduation. I lost my friends and girlfriend, and now I talk to myself more and more like an insane person.

Fuck it.

I pushed open the door before losing my nerve.

Coach Grant saw me and blew the whistle. Everyone stopped playing and looked over at me.

The door slammed shut, and I stood there like a fool.

“Don’t just stand there, boy. Go change and join us.” Coach pointed to a doorway on the opposite side of the gym.

I nodded like a bobblehead and walked across the court.

James came over and smacked me on the back. “I’m glad you came. We have a chance now.”

All the other teammates hit my back and thanked me for joining. It was as if I’d donated a kidney to their beloved coach.

I entered the locker room and changed into some loose shorts and a tank top. No one was in the locker room with me, and then I realized something. Everyone was happy to see me, and everyone was there—except Paolo.

I retied my sneakers and jogged out of the locker room. Voices echoed down the hall. Paolo finally showed up, and someone must’ve told him I was the recruit. He wasn’t taking it well, as I predicted.

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