There’s too big of a lump in my throat to do more than nod. After everything I’ve put her through…the things I’ve said.
Mai stirs with a tiny snort and then comes awake. She sits up, a little disoriented, then looks at the TV. “Is it over yet?”
I shake my head, stopping the show. “My mom’s home.”
Mai turns. “Oh. Hi, Ms. Walters.”
Mom looks from Mai back to me, and I’m sure she’s wishing there was an essential oil for this. “What can I do? More ice cream?”
“No, it’s fine. I’m fine.”
“I bought stuff to make cupcakes. For your birthday. And lasagna.”
“Homemade biscuits?” Mai asks hopefully.
Mom smiles. “Of course. Join us?”
“You don’t happen to have Cheetos in that bag, do you?” When my mom tilts her head, confused, Mai says, “Never mind. I’m in.”
“How come you bought all this stuff?” I ask. I’d told her Garrett was taking me out for dinner.
She pulls a box of noodles from the bag, but I don’t miss the blush on her cheeks. “I knew you were going out, but I always cook for your birthday. I thought I’d at least make cupcakes. The lasagna could be for tomorrow.” She pulls a small pack from the bag. “I even got candles that don’t blow out.”
“You’re not supposed to tell people that in advance.”
“I’m terrible at surprises.”
I think about my birthday surprise—the trip I told her I wouldn’t be taking because I’d be studying broadcasting. With Garrett.
As if she’s thinking the same thing, Mom’s eyes meet mine. “It’ll be okay. Even though I know it doesn’t feel like that now.”
Mai, who hates mushy stuff, quickly stands. “Can we help, Ms. Walters?”
“I’ve got it. You girls go back to the show.”
Mai groans so loudly that we all laugh.
We end up making my birthday dinner together. Mom does the lasagna and Mai and I make the cupcakes. We frost them, piling on every container of sprinkles and candies we find in the pantry.
For small moments in time, I even forget that it’s the worst night of my life.
It’s nine when Mai hugs me at the front door. “Come spend the night tonight if you want,” she whispers. “Text whenever. I’ll keep my phone on in case.”
Just like that, I want to cry again. What am I going to do when Mai leaves me, too?
Mom is sitting on the couch, hovering almost, and I know she’s waiting to see what I need. It hits me that something else has changed. Is changing. Maybe it’s because of the fight or maybe it’s the way it happens. I’ve always been her daughter, but now I’m also my own person. She’s giving me space. I wish I knew how to tell her I understand, and it means a lot to me. But right now, I just want to crawl in her lap.
Then I start crying, and it turns out she still knows exactly what I want. She’s up in the next breath, her arms around me, gently leading me back to the couch. I’m eighteen and I want to be a kid again. I want the kind of problems that my mom can fix.
She lets me cry until I’ve finally gotten it all out. Once and for all, I hope.
“Tell me what happened?”
“He wants the game more than he wants me.”
“Then he doesn’t deserve you.”
“I know. But I still love him.”
“I’m so sorry, honey.”
“You never liked him,” I mumble.
“I never met him,” she corrects. She runs a hand through my hair. “Why didn’t you ever bring him home?”
I curl my feet under and lean my shoulder against the back cushion. “I was afraid you’d look at him and see Dad. And then I would, too. But he isn’t, Mom. He’s not the same.” I’m not sure why it seems so important for her to know. “He never lied to me. It wasn’t like that.”
“Then why did you break up with him?”
“He was trying to come back as a hitter, not a pitcher. I saw him today. Taking BP off a pitching machine. He couldn’t see the curve.”
Our gazes meet, and in my eyes she sees the answer to her question. “Like your dad.”
I nod. “So I showed him. Got my glove out from under your bed and went through the sequence the way Dad would have done it. I went online and looked through his training logs. Found a list of all the drills he did.”
Her eyebrows shoot up. “That must have brought a lot back.”
“I thought it would be worse than it was.”
“That’s one good thing, then.” Her smile says she knows it isn’t much. “So you think Garrett has a chance and that’s why you broke up with him?”
“Pretty much. Baseball is his dream. How do you compete with a dream?”
She nods. She knows better than anyone. “You’re hurting right now, Josie, and I know you have a lot of feelings to work through. But I also want you to know that our partnership is still there if you want it.”
I let my head sink against the couch cushion. I’ve never been so tired. I just want to stop feeling like this. Things can go back to being what they were. What I planned. What I wanted before I knew I wanted Garrett. My mom. The business. Or if I want to pursue broadcasting, I can still do that. Without him. A few months ago, there was no Garrett and I was okay.
I can be okay again.
Chapter Forty-Four
On Monday morning, I dig out a plain tee—every quote shirt I own will make me think of Garrett. I’ve just brushed my hair when Mom appears in the door of the bathroom. “How about I do your makeup?”
“I wasn’t going to bother.”
“It might help you feel more together if you look the part.”
So I follow her to her bathroom where she’s got all the products. I sit on the counter and let her hide signs of my misery under moisturizer, anti-puffing eye gel, and skin-tightening serum.
“You’ll get over him, honey. It just takes a little time.”
“Are you over James?”
She pauses with the mascara wand in her hand. “Getting there. But it’s like a bug bite compared to what I went through with your dad. What you would have gone through with Garrett if you’d let it go on longer.” She applies the mascara and then seals the tube. “It’s waterproof, by the way.”
“I’m not going to cry at school. I’m done with that.”
Then I find myself thinking about Garrett’s text last night. He let me know we’d made the finals. Top three. Then he’d added:
GARRETT: I love you.
I give Mom a watery smile. “Waterproof is good.”
…
As the days pass, I’m proud of myself. I’m handling our breakup like a mature eighteen-year-old.
The baseball guys have been cool about it all, saying hello in the halls but not pressing me about what happened. The team is in the playoffs, and Garrett is running the broadcasts on his own, or so Cooper told me when they stopped by our lunch table yesterday. Mai has been crazy busy with AP exams, so I haven’t seen a lot of her, but even that’s for the best. She’ll be gone for her summer program, and I’m going to have to get used to doing without her. She’s finished the valedictorian speech but said I’ll have to wait to hear it with everyone else.
My job at the bookstore is also coming to an end. Even though I’m sad, I know there’s no one better for the job than Lianne. Saturday is my farewell party, and I’ll be ready to go after that.
Everything, in fact, is going great.
Except for Garrett.
At first, when he started turning up everywhere at school, I thought I was imagining it. Seeing him because I was thinking of him. But then I realized that no, he was purposefully putting himself in my way. Around every corner was a glimpse of blond hair or the sound of his laugh. And when I walked by, he stopped to call out, “Hey, Walters.”
Wednesday was the worst. He caught me on the way to English. He gave me one of his sexy half smiles combined with a little head tilt. The chemistry between us flared as hot as the bleacher
s in August.
“Don’t,” I said.
“Don’t what?”
What could I say? Stop looking so good? Stop making me want you? “How’s the hitting going?” I asked instead.
“You can’t avoid me forever.”
“Won’t be hard once you’re on that college team.” I knew he was making progress. I had Mai ask Jason who asked Evan. They said he’d been working with the pitching machine every morning before school and hitting live after school. “When’s the tryout? This Saturday?”
“Yep.” He stepped in closer. “You were right. I’m starting to see the ball better. I’m also missing you like hell.” His voice lowered. “I love you, Josie.”
I met his gaze, held his eyes for a long second. “My dad said he loved me, too. But he loved baseball more.”
“Nothing I say is going to change what you think, is it?”
“Nothing,” I tell him. “Move on, Garrett. I have.”
“Okay then. That’s how it’s going to be.”
He walked off.
Okay?
I don’t know how long I stood there until I remembered I was standing in the middle of the hall. I snapped my jaw shut.
Idiot. You got what you wanted. Be happy.
Chapter Forty-Five
Garrett has finally given up.
It’s official.
I was pretty sure yesterday when I only saw him twice and he didn’t try to talk to me either time. But this morning, there are no texts from Garrett. As Mai and I walk to school, there’s no honk, no window rolled down, no dark-blond head leaning our way calling, “Need a ride, beautiful?” He’s nowhere in the halls before first bell or between class. It’s literally been seven days. Seven! And he’s over it.
I check my phone for the hundredth time. Nothing.
“You’re going to get an arm cramp lifting that thing over and over,” Mai says.
“He finally got the message.”
“You’re supposed to sound happy about that.”
It’s lunch and we make our way to our usual table, brown bags in hand. Avi and Jasmine are already there.
“Did you guys pick up your caps and gowns?” Avi asks. “They’re made of Saran Wrap.”
Jasmine nods. “We’re going to drown out the band walking in them.”
From gowns, the conversation moves to the caps. We’re discussing possible slogans for the top when my neck prickles, telling me someone is standing behind me. I recognize Cooper’s body spray a second before he sets a tray on the table between Mai and me. “Hey, guys.”
Tucker and Anthony are suddenly at the other side of the table. I hear Mai’s sharp intake of breath but then everyone is shuffling around. Avi and Jasmine are forced to slide over, though Jasmine looks happy when Tucker sits beside her.
I roll my eyes. “Do you not ask before shoving your way in?”
“Ask what?” Cooper wedges himself in. His tray is loaded with pepperoni pizza and an energy drink. “Isn’t this cozy?”
“Did you guys catch our first playoff game?” Tucker asks.
I shake my head. “Congrats on the win.”
“Adams hit a two-run bomb,” Cooper announces, eyes shifting to Mai.
“Not surprised,” she says. “He’s got good hands.”
There’s a flare of something in Anthony’s eyes—but it’s gone so fast, I can’t read it. I’m not even sure if I saw it. His smile is friendly, relaxed. “Way to use a baseball term correctly.”
“Thank you.”
But her smile is still sad, and I feel shitty for giving Mai such a hard time about him. I was worried that she’d get in over her head, but I should have known she wouldn’t do anything reckless.
“It was a comeback win,” Cooper says. “Those are the best.” He wipes his fingers on a napkin, leaving orange streaks of pizza grease. “It was like the New England Patriots. Super Bowl 2017. You all remember.”
We give him blank stares.
“The Patriots were down twenty-five points to the Falcons. Twenty-five!”
Warning bells begin ringing in my head.
“Not even Tom Brady could come back from that. Stick a fork in them, everyone said. Until Tom Brady brought them back and they went on to win. Surprise.” Cooper grins and gives me a meaningful wink. “Everyone was so sure they knew how it would play out.”
“Garrett sent you.” I smack his arm.
“Hey, don’t hurt the messenger.”
“Then the messenger better be able to run fast.”
He laughs and picks up a slice of pizza. “Just saying, Josie. You never know. In sports. In life. That’s why you gotta play it out.”
Tucker points with a French fry. “You know, that reminds me of this other story. The US hockey team. The Olympics. 1980.”
“Mai has her protractor,” I snap. “A sharp one.” My voice is stern but my heart is bouncing all over my chest.
“Just saying.”
I glare at Anthony, because I can’t take any more or I might do something stupid like burst into tears. “Don’t you say a word.”
He gives a crooked grin, and in unison the three of them get up, taking their half-eaten lunches with them.
Jasmine watches them go. “What was that about?”
Mai crunches on a veggie stick. “I’d say someone hasn’t given up at all.”
“Then he’s wasting his time.” But my heart has stopped turning somersaults, and now it’s doing a happy dance across my ribs.
“Garrett should know better,” Mai says. “As if a sports story is going to convince you of anything. Who cares about a stupid game?” She takes a pretzel from my baggie. “It’s not like Marie Curie. I mean, when you consider the discrimination she faced when her husband died and she took over his research in radioactivity? No one would have thought a woman could succeed in that field, but she shocked them all when she got a Nobel Prize in 1911.”
I gasp. “You too?”
She helps herself to another pretzel. “He stalked me for two days.” She smiles, but there’s no apology in it. “He happens to be right. You can’t predict outcomes. You gotta play it out.”
“He gave you a script?” I shift on the seat so I can glare at her directly. “Did he give you the line about Anthony having good hands, too?”
“No!” She scoffs. “I came up with that on my own, thank you very much.”
“Well, it doesn’t matter. There are a lot of stories with happy endings. But many more without.” I loudly wad up the rest of my lunch.
But deep down, a small flame warms me through and through.
Chapter Forty-Six
There’s a record turnout at the bookstore on Saturday. Every familiar face adds to the lump in the back of my throat. Lianne has outdone herself in the cake department. There are two—one chocolate and one vanilla. I told her it was too much, but then more kids kept arriving, and now I’m glad.
Brandi brought me a gold crown and paper hats for the kids. Javier is worried that the rubber bands on the hats will be a choking hazard, but I put him in charge of keeping an eye on everyone’s safety, and he’s good with that.
I read the final story—a funny book about a dinosaur cookie. It keeps everyone laughing—and keeps me from crying.
What is it with me and tears these days?
After story time, we parade through the bookstore with me leading the way. When we get to the activity room, the cakes are sliced and ready to go. The hour flies by so fast that when I see the parents returning, I want to tell them to go away and come back later. Like in ten years.
Tears are pressing behind my eyes when the regulars approach. I say goodbye to Kate and Fiona, Julia, Javier, and Bryson. Finally, it’s Ciera’s turn, and she attaches herself to my neck and hangs there like a monkey.
“Ciera,” her mom chides.
But I use it as my chance to give her a huge hug. “It’s all right. I love monkeys.”
“I love you,” Ciera says. “I’ll always think about you when I re
ad a story.”
“And there’s one special story, isn’t there, Ciera?” her mom asks.
“I almost forgot!” Ciera nods and claps her hands with excitement. “It’s a good story, Josie. It’s about a rabbit only he’s a really big rabbit so he’s called a hare. And there’s a turtle only he’s really big so he’s called a tortoise. And the hare is fast and the tortoise is slow. And they have a race.”
I crouch in front of her so she knows I’m listening, but I also shoot her mom a puzzled look. Why is Ciera telling me the story of the Tortoise and the Hare?
“Anyway,” Ciera says, “everyone knows the hare is going to win and the whole time it looks like he will. But he wants to goat with everyone there, so he sits down to wait.”
My knees wobble as I suddenly understand. “You mean gloat.”
“Right,” she says. “But the hare falls asleep and the tortoise wins. And that’s why you’ve got to play it out.”
I look up at Ciera’s mom. Her smile says it all.
“He got to you. How did he get to you? When?”
“This morning.”
My knees give out, and I hit the carpet. Today is his tryout. What’s he doing coming to the bookstore? I look at Ciera, my heart roaring in my ears. “Is he…here?”
“No.” She pouts. “The cookie man is gone. Everyone is leaving.”
“I’m going to miss you, Ciera. More than you know. But I promise I’ll be back to visit.”
After they leave, it’s time to say goodbye to the staff. I make it quick, which means I pretend to go to the bathroom and instead grab my stuff and head out the back door. I’ll email Brandi later. I can’t handle another goodbye.
In my truck with the door closed, I pause and rest my head against the steering wheel. I’m weakening. I can feel my determination hanging on by one tiny, ragged thread. I need someone to talk some sense into me. Now. Before I do something stupid.
Chapter Forty-Seven
The AromaTher booth is next to Fresh Bounty, a husband and wife team who sell bread. My mouth is watering by the time I get to our table, draped with gold cloth and a sign that reads The Beauty of Essential Oils.
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