Page 81 of Sexting the Coach
“You’re a traitor,” I whisper, from the side of my mouth. “You know I can’t have any of that.”
“I’m a tortured artist, Els, you have to allow me this.”
Our conversation is cut short when we get close enough to our parents that I catch them sharing a look, their eyes darting between Drew and me. It’s obviously weird to see us as a united front, and I think about everything Drew told me over the five days we spent together at home.
How our parents don’t take his art seriously, keep dropping hints that they want him to get a “real” career, despite the fact that he’s doing just fine for himself and is already selling out galleries.
“Drew,” Mom says, when we get close enough, her eyes darting between the two of us, narrowing. “Elsie. You’re—together.”
“What, like it’s weird?” Drew asks, raising an eyebrow at her. Mom clears her throat, raising her eyebrows at him.
“You guys finally got past all that?” Dad asks, and to my surprise, when I look at him, he has real moisture in his eyes, glancing between Drew and me.
Maybe it’s the pregnancy hormones, or maybe it’s the weight of everything that’s happened to me, but I instantly burst into body-rocking sobs.
“Oh, my God,” Dad says, putting his hands up in that fluttery way he always does the moment someone cries.
“Deep breaths,” Drew says, his hand landing on my back like a solid anchor to the earth.
“Hey,” Mom snaps at someone who walks past, “mind your own business.”
The combination of the three of them pulls me out of it just as quickly as I went in, but it’s too late. It’s like this sudden show of emotion has broken something between us, the pretense that everything is okay. Or maybe I’ve imagined that pretense all this time, and the others have just been waiting for a moment like this.
“Elsie,” Dad says, his deep voice thick with confusion. “What’s going on?”
“I thought you hated me.” The words come out of me so clear there’s no mistaking them. And the surprise on my father’s face quickly turns to guilt, then to shock, and back to something bordering on hurt and shame.
Without warning, he steps forward, wraps his meaty arms around me, and draws me in for a hug like I’m a little girl again.
“Elsie Montgomery,” he says to the top of my head. “You’re my girl. How could you ever think I’d hate you?”
I’m back to crying, and when I step out of his arms, I wipe the backs of my hands over my cheeks. We’re in the middle of the room, practically a show, but to my surprise, nobody is really paying attention to us. They’re probably afraid of my dad.
“For what happened to Drew,” I say, sucking in a breath. “I thought you hated me.”
“Baby,” Mom says, stepping forward, too, and wrapping her arms around me. “I’m so sorry.”
I feel completely lost. All this time, all these years, and maybe my family weren’t the ones dancing around having this talk.
Maybe it was me. Punishing myself for what happened long after they blamed me.
“We were upset after the accident,” Dad says, shaking his head. “But that’s all it was, El. An accident. You thought we were mad at you?”
I nod, numb.
“Group hug,” Dad says, gruffly. While we’re in it, Mom says, “Baby, we all just thought you needed your space. That you were healing in your own way.”
When the hug breaks apart, Mom takes my hand and pulls me to the bathroom so she can fix my makeup. It’s mercifully empty, and she gets her bag out, working quickly since the ceremony is set to start.
“Now,” she says, clearing her throat and pulling out a makeup wipe. “Tell me what the other thing is.”
“Other thing?” I question, swallowing through the rawness in my throat. After years of saying nothing, it’s all come out at once. One revelation after another, and it’s a lot to deal with.
Mom looks up at me through her lashes, a point-blank glance. “You may have squirreled yourself away the past couple of years, but I know you better than anyone. What else is bothering you, baby?”
I swallow again, and while she’s reapplying mascara and smudging with her thumb, it all comes out. I tell her about the stupid text I sent to Weston—which feels like ages ago now—and Karlee finding us behind the lodge.
Then I tell her about kissing him at the game. A brief, bland note about what happened in the elevator. Falling in love with him.
