Page 123 of Things I Wish I Said
“No.” Trent shakes his head. “I checked. She’s on vacation with her folks, so you’re good.”
I glance over at Ry, unsure of what she’ll think about more people than we expected being here. Her face has thinned in the weeks since her last chemo treatment, revealing a sharp jaw and even more defined cheekbones, and I can’t help but notice the shadows beneath her eyes have deepened. A cough seems to have cropped up, unpredictably rearing its head on and off throughout the day. Today, she looks tired, and when I asked her about it, she simply shrugged me off and said she isn’t sleeping well.
I’m not sure I believe her.
“You good with staying?” I ask, secretly hoping she wants to bail and watch a movie at my place.
“You worry too much.” She rolls her eyes, then jabs me with an elbow, and I catch Cameron tracking the movement.
A smug smile splits my face as he leans down to the cooler and pulls out a couple beers. He offers Ryleigh one first, but she declines, and when he slides one to me, I push it back toward him. “I’m good.”
His brows rise as he mumbles, “Refusing to drink again, De Leon?”
Beside him, Trent cracks the top on a beer of his own. “You really gonna stay away from Dustin for good this time?”
“Yep. I’m done.”
“That deserves a toast.” Cameron holds his beer out. “To De Leon, who fucked our whole team by fracturing his ribs. Tonight’s loss is for you.” He tips his beer toward me, then clinks it against Ryan’s and Trent’s before taking a sip.
“You’re not gonna let this go, are you?”
“Not a chance.” He smiles.
“It’s our last summer to play together and you’re out for the second half of the season, so no, we’re not letting this go,” Trent pipes up.
“I’d play if I weren’t headed to George Mason in the fall, but I need to heal.”
“Yeah, yeah. Whatever,” Trent mutters.
“Where’s the food. I’m starving,” I ask, changing the subject.
“Brandon’s bringing it. Should be here in ten. We ordered a chicken salad for Ryleigh like you said.”
“Actually, pizza sounds great,” Ryleigh says.
“I fucking told you.” Cameron pounds a fist on the table in victory. “Ryleigh’s not the prissy salad type.”
It irritates me that he knows this about her, but what he doesn’t know is Ryleigh’s been eating clean ever since her diagnosis, and I can’t say I don’t feel at least a little bit smug that I have insider information he doesn’t.
Ignoring him, I turn to Ry. “It’s okay. I had him order you a salad. I’ve got you covered.”
“I appreciate that, truly, I do, but I really do think I’ll eat the pizza.”
Everyone at the table bursts out laughing like her choosing pizza over salad is some kind of rejection, when the truth is she hasn’t eaten anything other than fruit, vegetables, and chicken since I’ve started hanging out with her. The night she had beer at Kip’s, followed by the breakfast sandwich she ate the morning after, is the only time I’ve so much as seen her put anything into her body that isn’t good for her.
“You sure? I’ll eat salad, too,” I whisper, wondering if she feels weird being the odd one out.
“I’m sure.” She offers me a reassuring smile before focusing her attention back on my friends.
What she eats shouldn’t bother me.
Pizza isn’t the enemy. It’s not the end of the world. But I can’t help but feel like this is just one more sign she’s giving up—that she’s done trying in every capacity.
This thought eats away at me while we wait and stays with me all through dinner. We’re barely done eating when cars start pulling into the lot, and I’m already over this party. If it weren’t for Ryleigh, I would’ve ignored the invitation.
As it is, I’m starting to wonder if the real reason she wanted to come so badly was to see Cameron, especially with the way they’ve been exchanging looks for the past thirty minutes.
Our little stretch of the sandy beach starts to grow crowded. At least two dozen people have arrived with several coolers of beer. Music is playing softly in the background, and a small group throws a Frisbee in the waning light while flames from a small beach fire illuminate everything around us.
