Page 89 of Puck Struck
We stand there in silence for a moment, the reality and influence of our childhood hanging over us like a dark cloud. My mind trips back to the woman who left us to clean up Dad's messes and raise ourselves, about the choices we've had to make since then because of the shit hand we were dealt.
"Is there anything else I should know about?" Tessa asks finally, sniffling. "Any other secrets you're sitting on?"
I think about Cam. About the growing feelings I can barely admit to myself, let alone to my sister. About James and his threats and the way everything in my carefully ordered life is spinning out of control.
"No." I almost choke on the lie. "Nothing else."
My phone buzzes on the counter where I left it. I pick it up to find a text from Cam.
Morning practice at ten. You okay after yesterday?
Fine. See you there.
But I'm not fine. I'm fucking drowning, and I don't know how to tell him that.
"You should get going soon," Tessa says, noticing the time. "And by the way, I know there’s something else going on with you.” She holds up a hand, expecting me to protest. “And please don't try to tell me it's nothing because I know you better than that. Just remember you don't have to handle everything alone."
I want to tell her she's wrong. That I've been handling things alone for most of my life, that it's what I do. But looking at her face, at the trust and concern there, I just nod.
"I have a meeting set up to discuss the timeline with Dr. Patel."
"Good. Now do yourself a favor and talk to Cam since he’s been making you check your phone every five minutes. If he’s important enough to make you smile like that, he’s important enough to know what's going on with you." She lifts an eyebrow, her lips lifting.
Heat creeps up the sides of my neck. "I don't know what you're talking about."
"Sure you don't." She grins. "Just think about it. I want to see you happy. You deserve it."
I'm saved from acknowledging her comment by the sound of small feet on the stairs. Ethan appears in the doorway, dragging his stuffed triceratops. I peer closely at him. He looks pale but alert. Thank God.
"Uncle Lo!" He runs to me, and I scoop him up, a shot ofpain lancing my shoulder. "Are you going to practice? Can I come watch?"
"Not today, bud. Stay here and rest. How are you feeling?"
"Tired. And my tummy hurts." He rests his head against my shoulder, and I can feel the heat radiating from his small body. "Are you going to see Cam today?"
"Yes, he’ll be there," I say, glancing at Tessa, whose smile seems permanently stretched across her face at the mention of him.
"He's smart," Ethan says. "And he's nice. I like him."
"Yeah? What do you like about him?"
Ethan taps a finger against his chin. "He listens. And he doesn't talk to me like I'm stupid. And he looks at you the way you look at chocolate chip cookies."
Tessa nearly spits out her coffee, stifling a laugh. Heat creeps into my face.
"What does that mean?" I ask, although I'm pretty sure I don't want to know.
"Like you really, really want one but you're not sure if you're allowed to have it."
Fucking A. Out of the mouths of babes.
"I think Uncle Logan needs to get to practice," Tessa says, rescuing me from anymore six-year-old relationship insights.
I put Ethan down and ruffle his hair. "Take it easy today, and I’ll see you later."
"I will. Tell Cam I said hi."
I smile. "Okay."
