Page 26 of Forbidden

I’m probably in the minority, but I love away meets. I enjoy cozying up on the bus and watching the scenery fly by. I like stopping and stretching in weird places, finding unusual snacks at the rest stops. Most of all, I like getting out in a new city and knowing that when I step back on the bus, it will be with medals around my neck. Well. Hopefully.

Ever since our first meet of the season, we’ve been doing better. Whether that has anything to do with Coach Masters, I’m not sure. Either way, we’re not getting slaughtered.

Today, we’re not off to a new city. We’re heading to San Francisco. Which is kind of annoying, seeing as I just flew back from there four days ago. If I hadn’t had lectures I didn’t want to miss, I could have just stayed. But also, like I said, I love this part.

Especially this time.

I recline the seat a little more and glance over at Joy beside me. She’s been staring out of the window since we hit the I-5.

“Hey.” I nudge her with my shoulder. “You okay?”

She turns, looking at me as though she forgot I was here. “Sorry. Yeah. You?”

“I’m great.” I grin and she groans.

“Ugh. I forgot how annoying you are on away meets.”

I laugh. “And usually, I’m sitting on the other side of the coach with Wes. Now, you get the full force of my enjoyment.”

“Awesome,” she deadpans.

I wiggle my eyebrows at her, then glance over my shoulder to where Wes is huddled in his seat at the back of the coach. He’s not a talkative guy at the best of times and right now he’s staring at his phone like it’s personally offended him. I’m considering moving to go and see if he’s okay when Joy sucks in a breath.

“Can I ask you something?”

Relaxing back into my seat, all concern for Wes vanishes as I try not to stare at the way the early morning sun creates a burnished halo around Joy’s long dark hair. “Of course. Anything.”

She blows out a slow breath and wraps her arms around her knees, focusing her attention on a ring she’s wearing on her pinkie. “Imagine you had a friend, who you’ve known since you were a kid. It developed into more than friendship, but when things got heavy, they turned around and ghosted you for years. What would you do if they came back, begging for forgiveness?”

I frown slightly. “Someone did that to you?”

“Hypothetically,” she says, her eyes darting to mine before looking back at her fingers.

“Of course,” I mutter.Hypothetical my ass.Straight away I want to tell her that I’d tell them to go fuck themselves, but I take a minute to really think about it. Something my nonna always used to say comes to mind and I sigh. “Honestly? I’d listen to what they had to say, and I’d try to forgive them.”

“Really?” she asks, looking up at me.

I shrug. “My grandmother always said that carrying hatred and anger is pointless. We can’t control what other people do. So, we should forgive, because carrying the weight of other people’s actions will just wear you down.”

Joy frowns and I smile as I watch her nose crinkle, the sun catching on the small jewel there. She’s seriously fucking cute.

“But forgive doesn’t mean forget,” I clarify, reaching out and placing a hand on her knee. “You can let go of the hurt someone caused, but it doesn’t mean you’re giving them the power or opportunity to do it again.”

Her frown disappears as she smiles. “Your grandmother was a clever woman.”

I laugh. “And she knew it. Did that help?”

“Yeah.” She nods. “It really did.”

Although I know it’s unlikely anyone I know, I really want to ask more about the story. Who the hell would ghost Joy Blake? A fucking idiot, that’s who. It’s probably some high school ex she ran into when she was home over Thanksgiving.

“Hey,” I say, pulling her attention again. “We never got around to having that lunch before Thanksgiving.”

“That’s right.” She laughs. “Stupid pilgrims.”

After I interrupted whatever weirdness was going on between her and Coach Masters outside the gym, we went for coffee, but she rain checked on grabbing lunch. Although we laughed and chatted for over an hour, the usual sparkle was gone from her eyes. It was clear she’d been crying, but I didn’t press her for information. If she wants to tell me, I’m all ears.

“Want to grab some dinner tonight instead?” she asks. “The meet should wrap up around seven, right?”

---