Page 175 of Things I Wish I Said
I scold myself for hoping. If I really wanted to talk to him, I had every opportunity.
Taking a deep breath I start to read.
Dear Ryleigh,
The staff at Wishing Well has received your wish and decided to grant it. Please accept this check as a way to fund your future treatments as well as help with past debts.
Wishing you all the best,
Victoria De Leon
CEO and cofounder, Wishing Well.
But I’ve already been given a wish?
I frown, remembering what Grayson told me about granting the wish off the record since it was so unorthodox.
He must’ve told her about my mother’s debt, and Victoria must’ve decided to grant a different wish—one I hadn’t thought to ask for because I foolishly thought my time playing soccer was more important than my life.
I give the envelope a little shake and watch as a large blue check flutters to my bed. Picking it up, I flip it over and gasp.
I blink, wondering if I’m imagining the number written in bold ink, but no matter how many times I check, it remains the same.
Victoria De Leon and Wishing Well have given me a check in the amount of $200,000.
Chapter forty-four
RYLEIGH
NINE WEEKS LATER
“You look gorgeous.” Katie beams at me from the perch on my bed.
It’s funny to think I used to loathe the prospect of inviting her into my space, but now I kind of love it. I never had girl friends I was super close to in high school, so having someone to fuss with over clothes and makeup and hair—even if mine is still growing back—is pretty fun. It reminds me a little of what it was like traveling with my soccer team, only better because she’s always around, not just on tournaments.
And soon she’ll be my sister, which is pretty crazy to think about. Now that Mom and John no longer have to hide their engagement, she’s busy planning a small informal wedding on New Year’s Eve, so she and John can ring in the new year as a married couple.
“You sure?” I fuss with the neckline of my short-sleeved sweater, then glance down at my jeans. “Should I wear something . . . more formal? Like a dress or something?”
Katie snorts. “Those jeans make your booty look amazing, and you’re going to a college campus to win back your man, not a business meeting.”
I exhale, trying to quell the nerves jumping in my chest. It doesn’t work. “You’re right.”
“Of course I’m right.” Katie grins. “Now, yank the neckline of that sweater down a little more, so he can see your boobs.”
I gasp and slap her arm. “Katie!”
“What?” She gapes at me. “Once I’m in high school, I can only pray I have your rack.”
“Your too focused on the wrong things,” I say, because this isn’t the first time she’s mentioned it. “Besides, boobs aren’t everything. Sometimes they get in the way,” I grumble.
Katie rolls her eyes. “Easy for you to say.”
“I’d better get going.” I sigh and bite my lip, taking another long look in the mirror as I wonder what Grayson will think when he sees me. Since he last saw me, my hair has grown a couple more inches; it’s nearly long enough to style in a pixie cut, but not quite.
I applied my makeup carefully with winged liner and a peachy blush over the apples of my cheeks. My sparse eyelashes have grown in, allowing me to brush them with two coats of mascara. Not to mention, I’ve regained the weight I lost with chemo since he last saw me. I’m still thin, but there’s a lushness to my curves now. My skin has more color than it did in the summer when I was slightly gaunt and pale with a round face from all the treatments.
“Stop fretting,” Katie says, hopping off my bed and heading toward the doorway.
