Page 189 of Branded
I turned to Raph. “The season is starting to wind down. This is an important time, and the playoffs are right around the corner. You can’t miss a practice. The team needs you, and even if you leave right now, you’ll already be late.”
“Beth—”
I shoved at his shoulder, lost a bit of my cool exterior, even though I was trying desperately to hold tight to it. “You need to go. Like right now.”
“I’ve already called Coach,” he said, losing a bit of his cool. “So, table that shit right now. And even if the game is my job, and it’s important, it’s not as important as the people in my life.” His eyes hit mine, held. “And I think I made it clear that you’re important, and you’re in my life, and I want to stay.”
He had made that clear.
Not with words.
But then again, I hadn’t needed them.
Because he’d made his feelings clear with actions.
With shopping and strawberry toast. Making sure I was safe in the bathroom and giving me water bottles. Mouthing sugarpie through the glass and his gentle fingers on my body. Through all of that and more, he’d made it certain that I knew his feelings had shifted.
That was why I’d bought the jersey.
That was why I’d been determined to take care of him in return—no, not in return, but bigger, better, to give him what he couldn’t accept himself. To make him better and take away his pain.
Not to lay my baggage at his feet.
Not to make him worry and panic after we’d?—
A sharp slice of embarrassment cutting through my middle, heating my skin, making it feel like it was too small for my body. “You need to go,” I whispered and then when I saw the protest that was building in his face, ready to slide loose in his words, I held his eyes. “You made it clear.” A breath. “I know that. I feel that.” So deeply that he’d prowled through my castle walls, traipsed through the basement, opening doors left and right. “But what I need from you now is to go.”
His expression clouded.
“Beth, honey—” Hazel began.
“I need you to go, too.” I tore my eyes from Raph’s, turned to squeeze my friend’s hand. “I know what you saw, and I understand what happened. And”—I swallowed hard—“I know what it means, what all this has dredged up.” Hazel’s brows dragged together, and I gave, just a little, just the little that Hazel already knew. “My mom. My stepdad,” I whispered. “I think all of this”—I waved a hand—“the hospital, the complications, has dredged everything up.”
“Honey.”
“I’m not saying my head is right. But, right at this moment, I need some space to think and to talk to Marin and to figure out where it is and how to get it right again.” I turned back to Raph. “So, what I’m asking, is for you guys to give me that space. Give me some time.”
Raph’s jaw was tight.
Hazel, when I glanced back, didn’t look much better.
I knew that it wasn’t in either of their repertoires to let this go without solving the problem, without fixing it.
What they didn’t know, couldn’t ever know, was that I was unfixable.
I was broken inside, had been for years and years.
Starting with that night, continuing over the years. Pieces broken again and again and again.
And at some point, no matter how many times they were picked up and glued back together, there were always parts missing.
Important parts.
Lucky for me, I was good at faking things, at wearing a mask and making it believable that I was totally okay.
That I had it together.
I was Beth Mason, born with a silver spoon, a trust fund big enough that I could buy half of Manhattan if I wanted.
