Page 39 of Play the Last Track
“You’ll do the big, white wedding? With all the guests and the planning, and the strippers at bachelor parties?” I try to joke.
“I guess it depends on who my wife will be. But, yeah, if it were up to me, I think I would.” He rests the bottle on his thigh, twirling it between his fingers. “I like the idea of standing up in front of all of my closest friends and extended family to declare my love for a person. I’d want them to know. I’d be proud of it.”
I hum, thinking about Grant again. My phone has been oddly silent since the night after the Halloween game a few weeks ago. He called me non-stop until about two in the morning, but I’ve heard nothing since. When we were together, he never talked about our future. Not until the very end, when he threw it in my face like it was nothing.
“My parents had a big wedding. My mom still talks about it.” I smile fondly. “Even though she had me and my brother, I think it was the best day of her life.”
“I keep forgetting you have a sibling.”
“He’s a lot younger than me. He … he actually wants to be a football player.” I glance up at Flynn, momentarily meeting his gaze before looking back at my lap.
“What does your family think about our relationship? Or, do they know it’s fake?”
“I haven’t really … told them yet.” I cringe.
“You haven’t? They wouldn’t see it on social media and think it’s weird you’ve not said anything?”
“My mom and I, while I love her, we don’t always see eye to eye. She thinks I can’t make a decision and that I’m wasting my life by working at the bar instead of being a full-time teacher. My dad just stays silent to avoid the argument. They … they focus on Sammy. It’s easier.”
“That sucks.”
I look up and see him watching me again. God, this man. It’s like he never looks away. “Why?”
“Because your parents should care what you’re up to. No matter how old you are.”
“Do yours? Care about what you’re up to, I mean?”
“Yes, and no.” He takes another swig from the almost empty beer bottle, but he never takes his eyes off my face. “My dad is my biggest fan. He loves that I play pro-ball and he calls me all the time after a game to discuss it play by play. He wasn’t very athletic, so I think he enjoys being able to live through me a little. He’s a good man. A little selfish, and I recognize that he probably pushed me into football for the wrong reasons, but I love him.”
“And your mom?”
“She’s … harder.”
“Are they still together?”
“Yes.” His words are clipped short. Harsh. “They shouldn’t be.”
“What do you mean?”
“They should get a divorce. They should have gotten one years ago. God knows why they stay together, but they hate each other. I think … I think my mom knows that I have a better relationship with my dad and she thinks, in some twisted way, that if they split up, I’ll take his side.”
“Would you?”
Flynn hesitates, his fingers tapping against the bottle. “I don’t know.”
Silence fills the air between us, and it becomes thick and hard to breathe. I shift in my seat, edging out of the corner and closer to Flynn, just a little. I don’t say anything else. I can tell that he hasn’t finished. I’m patient enough to wait.
“She’s cheated on him. A bunch of times.”
My heart sinks. Fuck.
“I caught her when I was eighteen. I was about to leave for college, and I dropped by her work. I was going to take her to lunch as a final goodbye. School was only two hours away, but something in me told me that I wasn’t really ever going to come back.” He leans over and places the now empty bottle on the coffee table. I do the same. When I sit back into the couch cushions, I’m even closer to him as he talks. “She’s a personal assistant for some hotshot CEO. I walked into their office, expecting to find her at her desk. Instead, she’s on top of it and her boss is fucking her.”
“Shit.”
“She freaked out. Begged me not to tell my dad.” He runs a hand through his hair, tugging a little on the strands. I want to lean over and take it in mine. I have the overwhelming urge to crawl into his lap and wrap my arms around him. But I don’t.
“Did you?” I ask in a quiet voice.
