Page 58 of Things I Wish I Said
“Slugger.”
“I’m serious.”
“Why can’t I drink?” I snap.
His eyes widen. “Why? Are you for real, Sinclair? Um, I don’t know, how about because you have fucking cancer,” he hiss-whispers.
I wrench my arm free of his grasp and narrow my eyes on his gorgeous face. “Yeah, well, for the first time in a long time I feel good today, and I want to have a little fun.”
“This isn’t—”
“I’m tired of being the sick girl. I missed out on every fucking thing in high school because my damn head was in the sand. If it didn’t have to do with soccer, then I had no part in it, and now that’s fucking gone. So, yeah, I want to experience some of the things I missed, cancer or not. I’m tired of sitting on the sidelines watching everyone else live their life while mine swirls down the fucking drain.” I steel my spine and take a step back, needing some space from my mounting emotions. “I have my scans next week. My last treatment was either a success or it wasn’t. I’m either better or I’m not. And if I’m not, then what the fuck does it matter?”
I sidestep him without looking into his eyes. Not because I’m angry with him—I understand what he’s trying to do, I really do—but I don’t want him to see the tears welling in my eyes. The last thing I want is Grayson’s pity.
Get a grip on yourself, Ry. Don’t be a fucking baby.
I plaster a smile on my face and direct it toward Cameron as I return to the table.
“Lover’s quarrel?” He smirks.
“Something like that.”
He glances over my shoulder, and I wonder if Grayson’s still there or if he’s walking away. Maybe he’ll decide he’s sick of myshit and he doesn’t want to babysit me. Maybe he’ll go and get himself fucked up after all.
The thought bothers me more than it should.
“It’s funny . . .” Cameron says after a beat, turning his attention back to me as he cracks open a beer and starts filling the cups.
“What is?”
“I’m not sure I’ve ever seen Grayson be so protective. And I sure as shit have never seen him stop someone from having a drink.” His gaze flicks from the cups back up to me. “He was always kind of intense, though. Before everything happened, it was all focus on baseball all the time, and after—”
“Move over.”
I jerk my head, startled to see Grayson hovering over my shoulder.
I shift my body to make room for him behind my end of the table, working up the courage to meet his gaze, to find he’s already staring at me, his eyes more blue than gray and every bit as turbulent as a churning sea.
“You in?” I ask.
“Yeah, Sinclair,” he says, with a sigh. “I’m all in.”
Chapter fourteen
GRAYSON
Turns out Ry isa fucking beast at beer pong, though I shouldn’t be surprised. With everything I know about her and her competitive nature, I should’ve figured we’d be on the winning end of things. Still, you can’t play this game for long without drinking, and now that we’re on our second game for best out of three—because Cameron’s a sore fucking loser—I’ve downed my fair share of cups in an effort to keep her from drinking. It’s the one thing I promised her mother to her face we wouldn’t do, yet here I am.
There are only four cups left on Cameron’s side, and five on ours when both Cameron and Trent sink their balls.
I growl and shove a hand into my hair as Ry turns to me, eyes glittering, her smile expectant. “Drink up, buttercup.”
“I can’t. I’ve already drunk more than I should’ve considering I’m driving you home.”
I’m not drunk, not by a mile, but it doesn’t feel right, and I’m not comfortable with getting behind the wheel with Ryleigh if I have anything else. I need to be stone-cold sober, completelyfucking present when I’m with her in case something happens or she needs me or she gets sick.
She rolls her eyes and reaches for a cup.
