Page 73 of The Game Is Afoot

She runs off, Polly chasing after her, and I glare at Corey. He opens his mouth to say something, but I hold up a finger. Seconds later, my dad hollers and then they both erupt into laughter. I grab Corey’s wrist and pull him to my room. I shut that door, pull him into the closet, flip the light on, and then shutthatdoor, too. This is our best chance at not being overheard by a curious Pearl.

“What’s your problem? Why were you like that? It’ll make her upset!”

Corey sighs. “You’re right. I’m sorry.Youjust looked upset. I wanted to make sure he wasn’t…hurting you.”

I scoff. “Of course he wasn’t. If anything, I hurt him.”

He nods, almost in approval, and I roll my eyes, ready to tell him off. But something in his face makes me stop. His brown eyes look darker and there’s a heaviness in his features.

“It’s not easy to see you with him. Like that.”

It’s so outside the realm of anything I expected from him that I feel like my brain is buffering, trying to catch up. “What? Why—why would that even bother you?” I sputter. “That doesn’t—what? Corey, it’s been years. Since we were…”

“I know it’s been a long time, but that doesn’t mean I’m happy with the way things are. That doesn’t mean I don’t miss us…that I don’t want us back.”

“You mean…you and Pearl together. In the same house.” Iknowthat’s not what he means but I need to give him an out. Because surely, he doesn’t want to do this.Idefinitely don’t wantto do this—I’ve dealt with enough big conversations for the night—for the year!

“No, I mean…us. Me and you.”

Okay. So, we’re doing this.

He bites his bottom lip and his eyes lock on mine with a steady intensity, like I’m all he sees. My stomach twists, aches, remembering all the years between us when that look was all I needed. But that quickly blooms into a fire because I’m pissed at him formakingme feel this way. He has no right.

“How can you even say that? When you’re already making plans to leave.”

“What? What are you talking about?”

He has the nerve to look confused, like this is some minor misunderstanding and not a huge thing that’s going to blow up our whole lives. It makes me want to scream—to roar—but our eight-year-old is on the other side of the house, so all I can do is whisper very harshly, which isn’t nearly as satisfying.

“Pearl overheard you on the phone a couple weeks ago. Talking about Wembley Stadium? So you can’t be too serious about missing us, if you’re heading out to London god knows when.” I take a step toward him, pressing my finger into his chest, and he lets out a sharp breath. “This is only temporary to you. And I know you don’t mean to hurt us, Corey, but it’s almost cruel—how you keep being so nice to me, helping us, getting me to rely on you. Because I can’t. It’s not safe for me to. Because Iknowyou won’t always be here. Iknowyour work will always come first. And this was just, like, a fun little interlude for you, something to make you feel good. So don’t come around saying you miss us, that you want us back. Because my heart—it can’t…it can’t handle that.”

My voice catches and my eyes are blurry with tears that Iwill notlet fall. And I hate being like this in front of him, showingmy gooey, weak insides after years of making myself hard and strong. But there’s also a release in expelling all of the vulnerability, the sadness and pain. Like after a bad bout of food poisoning, when all of the sickness has finally been purged and you feel wrecked but cleaned out. Maybe we can finally,firmly, move on from here.

Except, Corey doesn’t look chastened—or even freaked out by my emotion. He looks mad. Which doesn’t make sense because I am the one who gets to be mad here, not him.

“Mavis, see, this is always our problem. You hold everything in. You don’t tell me how you’re feeling. And if you did, then we could have squashed this two weeks ago.” He sucks his teeth, blinking furiously. “Iknewyou were mad at me about something, but I didn’t know what.”

“What do you mean, squashed this?” I ask, irritation rising. “And yeah, I’m mad. I’m still mad. But I needed time to process my feelings about it—and that’s my right, Corey.”

“Yeah, you’d have a right to be mad if I was hopping on another tour and going to London, but I’m not. Pearl probably overheard me talking to Kyle—you remember my buddy in Silver Lake? My agent came to me about this big six-month contract with this singer, starting at Wembley. But I turned him down—of courseI turned him down—and I suggested Kyle instead. Which you would know if you actually told me what you were upset about and gave me a chance to fix things before they were too far gone.”

He’s right that I try to push my feelings down, that I avoid big conversations. And I know that doesn’t make things easy in a relationship with me…Jack was just telling me something not too far off. But: “Don’t act like all of this is my fault.” My finger whips between us, signaling all the years we’re somehow re-litigating now. “And I think we both know if I had just toldyou how I was feeling back then, that wouldn’t have magically fixed everything. You wanted to be gone. Your work waseverythingto you. How was I supposed to know you were choosing different now?”

He sighs, running his palm over his face, and it’s like the fire in his fight goes out. “I know I’ve made mistakes. I know that my priorities were all out of whack. I’ve been working through it with my therapist, why I attached so much of my value to my work.” His voice is scratchy, almost pleading. “I’ve been trying to show you that I’ve changed, though. You don’t have to believe me yet—I know I’ve got a long time to make up for, and it’s gonna take a while. But I’m not going anywhere. This is where I belong, and I’m just sorry…I’msosorry I didn’t realize that sooner. I’m gonna be here for Pearl—from now on, for good.” He swallows and I study how his Adam’s apple bobs, just to avoid his steady stare. “And for you, too, in whatever way you’ll let me be. I meant what I said: I want us back.”

I’m suddenly aware of how close we’re standing in my little closet, and then he takes another step toward me, making us even closer. He reaches forward and brushes my elbow, just barely, but it sends electricity through my whole body. It’s quickly doused, though, with an overwhelming wave of guilt. I step back, knocking a few jackets off their hangers. “I can’t do that.”

“Yeah, yeah. I understand. I’m sorry. I’ll go.” His arm bats behind him, looking for the doorknob. And when he opens it, letting in fresh air and the bright light of my room, it feels like we’re stumbling out of the rabbit hole, back into reality.

“Oh, I forgot. This is for you.” He holds up the Target bag that I first noticed when he walked in. I consider refusing it, as if that’ll go back and uncross any lines I may have stumbled over, but that’ll just make things even weirder.

I’m confused, though, when I see overnight ultra thin pads in the bag, size five in the brand I like, next to the shiny purple wrappers of my favorite chocolate.

“I remembered that you only buy one pack, and it’s never enough. And then I saw these chocolate bars and figured I’d get you a couple because you always would say they were too expensive and never buy them for yourself.”

When I keep staring at the bag, giving him absolutely nothing, he clarifies, “Because you said you were on your period.”

I want to laugh, but I also want to cry. Because this is like the laundry app and the chain on the door but it doesn’t make me mad anymore. It just makes me…confused. So the best I can do is mumble “Thank you.”

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