“You, uh—you read those romance books, right?”
She squints, side-eying me as I push past her into the house. “Yes...you came all the way to Texas to talk about romance novels?”
“Sort of…where’s the midget?”
“She’s napping.”
I follow my sister into the kitchen and take a seat at the breakfast table, rearranging the salt and pepper shakers and napkin holder. I can’t seem to stop fidgeting.
“What’s going on?”
“So, I was thinking of sending Korie a few books.”
“Uh-huh,” Judy says, pulling up the chair across from mine. “I think it might be time to let this go, little brother.”
“I can’t.” I’m so tired of everyone advising me to give up. I’m a fighter. It’s not in my nature. She, of all people, should know this. “Judy, I didn’t sleep with Anika. I have no way of proving it. It’s…well, it’s complicated. But I didn’t do it.”
“Okay,” she says, steepling her fingers beneath her chin. “If you say you didn’t, I believe you, but it looks really, really bad. You have to know that.”
“I’m aware.”
“So, we’re gonna send her some books?”
“Yeah. She loves romance novels. So, I figure if I send her a couple, maybe it’ll remind her how much she misses me. It’ll also show that I paid attention, right?”
She nods, slinking out of her chair. “Alright, then…” My sister holds up a finger then begins walking toward the living room. “Be right back.”
When she returns, she has a stack of books clutched to her chest. “These are three of my recent favorites.” She hands me one with a pretty blonde on the cover, Center of Gravity by K.K. Allen. “This one’s about a girl moving to LA to chase her dreams of becoming a professional dancer. I think it’s something she can definitely relate to, with the whole skate thing.”
“That’s perfect.” I knew I could count on her.
The next book has a kissing couple on the cover. “Best Laid Plans by LK Farlow is a really sweet romance,” Judy says, holding it out to me. “I chose it because it centers around a big secret and lots of miscommunication. Anyway, sounded like something that fit the bill. There’s also a really cute kid, and she loves kids, right?”
“Right. Great.” I rub my hands together, excited. “And that one?” I’m a little more hesitant when I see the bare-chested dude on the cover.
My sister notices the grimace on my face and giggles. “Calm down. Women like this stuff, trust me. Ask Me Why by Harloe Rae is my most recent read. It’s about a single father with a cute as a button little boy who basically brings the two together through his love of candy. What could be more perfect?”
“This has to work, right?”
“Well…it won’t hurt. It’ll let her know you’re still thinking about her, but you need to do something epic. Think big.”
“Uncle Rhett!” Autumn screams when she plods into the kitchen in her unicorn footy pajamas, rubbing sleep from her eyes. “When did you getted here?”
“Hey, princess.” I pick her up, situating her on my lap. Like always, her hands go right to the scruff on my chin. “I got here a few minutes ago...was missing my favorite girls.”
“We been missin’ you too.” She gives me a tight squeeze then looks around the room, confused. “Where’s your girl?”
Judy gives me an apologetic shrug.
“It’s just me this time.”
Autumn’s lip hangs to the floor. “I guess that’s okay,” she finally grumbles.
“You guess it’s okay?” I shout, poking my fingers into her sides.
She wriggles around, laughing and screaming. When she can’t catch her breath, I relent.
“Wanna have a tea party?” she asks once she’s calmed down.
“Actually, I’m going to send Miss Korie a present, and I was hoping you might want to help me decorate the box?”
Whenever my sister sends me anything, the box is always covered in stickers and jewels and little doodles from my niece. She enjoys it, and truth be told, so do I. Korie thought it was the cutest thing ever.
“Duh!” she shouts, slithering out of my lap and running for her room. “I’m going get my stuff!”
“Please tell me you have a box?”
“Duh!” Judy says, imitating her daughter, before walking to the pantry to retrieve a flat, plain white box, which she quickly assembles.
When Autumn returns, she goes to work bedazzling the box with sticky jewels, half of which will fall off in the mail, but I don’t tell her that. She draws a rainbow on one side, a little house on another. Then she makes two stick figures with long blonde hair. “Dis is me and Miss Korie, and dis,” she says, pointing to the blobs in their hands, “is our tea cups.”
“Of course,” I say, stuffing the bubble-wrapped books along with a folded-up note inside. “She’s going to love your drawings.”
“Wait,” Autumn instructs before running back toward her room. “I’ll be right back. Don’t cwose it yet.”
She returns toting her favorite book, Pinkalicious. It’s one I’ve read to her more times than I can count. “I wanna give her one of my books too. I bet her likes dis one the best.”
“Something tells me you’re probably right, little bit.” I laugh. “Here, write your name inside so she knows it’s from you.”
Autumn draws a lopsided heart and scrawls her name across the inside cover. I have to say, it’s not too shabby for a three-year-old.
“You’re staying, right?” my sister asks, taping the box shut. “Dad’s coming for dinner.”
“Yeah. I was gonna spend a few days, if that’s okay?”
“Yippee!” Autumn does a little victory dance. “Dis is the best day ever!”
I address the box to Korie’s mother’s house, which is where I’ve discovered she’s been staying. Then, I take Autumn with me to the post office, followed by an ice cream date at a repulsive little local place that she’s currently obsessed with. Korie would love it. That thought stings.
Autumn fills a bowl with strawberry soft serve—“because it’s pink. Duh!”—and I choose a pineapple and vanilla swirl. Then we head over to the buffet bar of toppings, which I wouldn’t touch with a ten-foot pole.
Few things gross me out more than watching little kids stick their grubby fingers in all the candy buckets, like they have no clue what the little spoon is there for. Their parents pretend not to see, but I’m on to their lazy asses. My niece has been taught to use utensils, because I refuse to allow her to be a savage.
“Help me up!” She can barely see over the bar. With my ice cream in one hand, I hoist her up with the other, and she proceeds to litter perfectly good strawberry ice cream with a scoop of damn near everything on the menu.
“You know those other kids were sticking their dirty hands in these buckets.”
She gives me her mother’s side-eye. “And?”
I can’t help but laugh. “And nothing, princess. Carry on.”
If she doesn’t mind eating after booger-picking, butt-scratching, non-hand-washing demons, who am I to be the one to stop her?
“Now, tell me what’s wrong,” the very wise beyond her years threenager demands, climbing into the booth across from me.
“What’re you talking about? Nothing’s wrong.”
She looks up at me in disbelief. “Daddy only buys Mommy special presents when he’s a jerk and makes her cry. Or it’s her birfday or Chritmas.”
I gulp. Perceptive little shit.
“So,” she says. “Is it her birfday? Cuz our tree isn’t up, and I didn’t get no presents.”
“I came here for ice cream, not a therapy session.”
She shrugs before taking a heaping bite of her dessert. “I don’t know what dat means,” she garbles around the food in her mouth. “I juss wanna know what you did to Miss Korie, cuz I like her.”
“Well,” I say, unable to believe I’m actually about to talk to a toddler about my problems. �
�You’re right. Miss Korie is very angry with me right now.”
She nods knowingly. “Did you say sorry?”
“Why do you automatically assume it’s my fault?”
“Cuz you’re a boy. Duh. Dat’s why they make flowers, so boys can apologize to girls when you do dumb stuff.”
This kid. “What if it was her fault?”
She actually drops her spoon and crosses her arms on her chest. “Well, was it?”
“No…but it could have been.”
“You’re reflecting, Uncle Rhett.”
“I’m what?”
“Dat’s what Mommy says when me or daddy tries to change the subject when we’re in trouble. And it is not a good thing.”
“I believe the word you’re looking for is deflecting.” Are they making kids smarter these days? Geez.
She rolls her eyes and begins drumming her chubby fingers on the tabletop. “You’re doing it again…”
“You’re right. It’s my fault. She won’t answer my calls or messages. I’ve sent presents, and I just don’t know what else to do. Got any advice, since you seem to know it all?”
“Hmm…” She taps her pointer finger against her lips. “Okay, so here’s what you gotta do.” She pushes her snack to the side, all business. “Are you listening?”
I rest my arms on the table, leaning closer. “All ears.”
“First you gotta get a horse. It hasta be a white one.”
I suck in my lips, trying not to laugh. “White horse. Got it.”
“Then you gotta show up and do something really dumb, so she can see she still loves you and saves your life.”
That is not where I saw this going. “Do what?”
“Listen, it happens in all the movies. Ariel saves Prince Eric when he’s drowning. The princess has to kiss the frog, and he gets to be a prince. Nala goes to get Simba at Timone’s house. And the bestest one is when Belle kisses Beast, and he turns handsome.”
“You’re giving me dating advice based on Disney movies?”
“Take it or leave it, dude.” She snatches a gummy worm off the top of her ice cream and pops it into her mouth. “Who knows, maybe she will kiss you, and you can get handsome too.”
Chapter 44
Korie
“Hey, honey,” Mom calls when I return from a visit with the kids at the hospital. I can’t wait to finish with the games and finally start my new job. I didn’t realize how much I’d miss them with all this traveling. There’s nothing like spending time with sick children to bring life into perspective. Suddenly my problems don’t seem so bad.
“Hey, Momma.” I drop my keys in the glass bowl on the console table near the door and find her in the kitchen. She’s got a steaming mug of coffee cupped in two hands and, as always, a welcoming smile.
Gosh, that smells delightful.
“How was it?”
“Good. They’re just so sweet and innocent, you know?” I walk over to the pot and pour myself a cup, adding two spoons of sugar and two scoops of creamer.
She nods. “Oh, speaking of kids. A box came for you today. I put it on your bed. Really cute. Looks like a little girl colored all over it.”
“Oh?” It can’t be. “I’ll go check it out. Be right back.” I abandon my coffee mid-stir.
The whole way up to my room, my heart is racing. When I burst through the door and see the box, my eyes start to sting.
Oh, Rhett Taylor, you fight dirty.
I sit cross-legged in the center of the full-sized bed, examining Autumn’s artwork. She’s got real talent for a kid her age. I run my fingers over the jewels before bringing them to the ends to unfasten the tape, careful not to destroy any of her drawings.
The first thing I see is a kids’ book. Pinkalicious. I open the cover and find Autumn’s little name written in her wiggly print and lose it. I spend a few minutes reading the book before placing it on my nightstand and fishing through the box to see what else is inside.
I pull out three books and a folded-up note.
Hey Pretty Girl,
I miss you. God, I miss you so damn much. Not being able to talk to you. To see you. To touch you. It’s killing me.
I hate myself for doing the one thing I promised I wouldn’t. I embarrassed you. Brought all your worst fears to light. I know you probably won’t ever believe me, but for what it’s worth, I swear to you that Anika and I have never been intimate, despite what the picture suggests. I can’t elaborate more, and I know how guilty that makes me look. But my word is my bond, and unfortunately, it’s cost me you.
Anyway, I’m not writing to beat a dead horse. Just wanted to say I’m sorry.
I was thinking about the day you told me how much you liked to read romance, and then I remembered that Judy is a huge fan too. These three come highly recommended. I hope they’ll occupy you on your travels and help keep your mind off the games.
You know Autumn couldn’t be outdone and had to send a present of her own. I’m afraid she’s outdone me with Pinkalicious. She says hi, and that she misses you.
Good luck next week in Minneapolis. I’m still here rooting for you. If you ever want to talk, I’m here for that too.
Love always,
Rhett
He can’t elaborate? What a crock of shit. More like he won’t. I wish his words didn’t affect me. That I didn’t have the urge to pick up the phone and hear his voice.
Instead, I flip through the stack of books, reading the blurbs on the back covers. I haven’t read an actual paperback in so long, usually reading in the Kindle app on my phone. I decide to start with Center of Gravity. I stack two pillows behind my head, snuggle into the covers and crack the spine. There’s something about the scent of printed paper that takes the experience to another level.
I step out onto the hotel balcony, breathing in the morning air. The sun is barely over the horizon, and it’s already sweltering. I’m so thankful we’re skating on an indoor course.
As soon as I sit in the wooden patio chair, my phone dings.
Rhett: Today’s the day! Just wanted to say how proud I am of you. Kick ass out there. This is your moment. You’ve earned it. No matter what happens, enjoy the experience.
I can’t help but chuckle to myself. I swear I thought he was going to say I’m still—
Rhett: Still the prettiest.
Damn him.
I stare at his messages for a few minutes before darkening the screen and setting my phone face down on the little table. It’s taken a long ass time, but I can finally hear from him without wanting to curl into a ball and drown in a pool of my own tears. I never respond. I’m in no way immune to his charm, and I refuse to allow myself to be sucked back in. But it does feel good to know he’s still thinking about me too. No one wants to be alone in their solitude, right?
I spend the day lazing around, watching Netflix with Raven and Mom. A lot of the girls are out getting practice runs in, but I know at this point I’ve done all I can. I’ve been practicing like it’s my job. Knowing tonight will be exhausting enough, I’ve chosen to conserve my energy and veg out with my bestie.
Around four o’clock, we get our things together and head to the arena. The competition starts promptly at seven. Just like at the Chicks with Tricks competition, there will be two heats of six. But instead of waiting until the next morning, the top three from each immediately compete in the final. I feel extremely lucky to have drawn the first. At least if I place and make it to the final, I’ll have a little time to rest before my next set of runs. The girls in the second heat will have to compete back to back.
After I’ve signed in and taken care of all the procedural stuff, I get the chance to warm up. It’s a steep course, with high walls and a really dope grind rail on top of a plateau in the center. The feeling of being in here, seeing the X Games signs plastered on every wall, is just surreal.
An eerie calm washes over me when they call our names over the speaker. Time to line up. I expected to feel nervous, nauseous, terrified. But s
urprisingly I don’t feel much of anything. It’s almost as if I’m having an out of body experience, watching from the outside.
When my turn comes, I pop my earbuds in and let the music lead me where it will. I come out guns blazing with my 360. Then, I climb the high wall and do a one-handed invert. I cross the bowl, pumping my knees to pick up speed and then glide clean across the grind rail. I give them a few technical tricks and end with a sweet kick flip.
Having drawn second, there are still four girls to go after me. I sit back and watch with such a mixture of emotions. These women have all become my friends, but they are still my competition, too.
Yoko is the last to compete in our heat, and despite the fact that I know she’s just outskated me, I can’t help but feel like a proud big sister. Of all the girls I’ve met, she and I have become the closest.
As she’s climbing out, and Pippy Rain is dropping in, the scores appear: Yoko in first, and me in second. My little friend rushes over to high-five me before I’ve got to drop in for my second run.
“We did it, Korie!”
I pull her in for a one-armed hug. “So proud of you!”
“Same,” she says, before waving me off.
I put on a really high energy track and take off full steam. Mixing up my tricks to show a little versatility, I stick my 360 in the middle and add a nose grind and a few other technical tricks I didn’t use in my first run. Just before the buzzer, I make my first public attempt at the 540 I’ve been working on all summer. My landing is a tad wobbly, but holy fuck. Oh my God. I just did a fucking 540 in the X Games!
I climb out of the bowl with my heart racing a million miles an hour, finally feeling present and like I’ve busted out of the haze I’ve been in since arriving. I look over to my mom and Rave who are screaming their freaking heads off and give my fist a few pumps in the air.
Immediately following my second run, I’ve jumped into first, but once the rest of the girls have skated their last run, I fall into second, once again behind Yoko.
I rush over to my mom, hugging her above the rail. She’s been with me to every single competition. Skating was far from her thing—Mom was more of the cheerleader type—but when she saw the passion I had for the sport, she made it her thing.
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