I try not to smile.
“I’m still working on my plans,” Patrick says. “What are you going to do?”
The waitress comes to take our orders before I can answer. When she leaves, Lucy throws another question at me. “Are you still coming to visit before we leave?”
“Yeah. That’s the extent of my spring break plans.” I don’t have a spring break now, so going down for a weekend before they do will have to work. I shift in my seat towards Olivia. “And what are you doing for spring break?”
“I thought about going home for a few days, actually.”
“Where are you from?” Patrick questions.
I listen while Olivia gives them a little background on herself. Of course, as our plates are served, conversation doesn’t stay away from me. Thanks, Lucy.
“You should go with Jon, Corey, since you don’t have any plans.”
“I can’t,” I answer automatically, knowing that I have to work.
Lucy frowns. “Why not? You just said the only thing you were going to do is come see us.”
“I, uh.” Shit. Shit. Shit. Olivia pokes me in the leg again. I glare at her. No. I won’t tell them, especially not in front of Grant. He may be Lucy’s “serious” boyfriend, but he’s not family.
“What’s going on, Corey?” Patrick sets his fork down and watches me struggle with my words. He knows something’s up. I’ve been quiet for too long.
“Everything is still okay, right?” Lucy adds.
My eyes scan the waiting faces of everyone at our table. My mind is completely blank. I don’t know what I’m supposed to say. When my eyes land on Olivia, she subtly nods. Shit. She wants me to tell them.
“Corey?” The concern coats Lucy’s voice and I hate it. I hate it so much.
My mouth has refused to work as I look to Lucy. The worry is there in her eyes, in her frown, in how she slowly sets her drink back on the table, her gaze locked on me. When my voice finally works, I want to groan with the stupid words that come from it. “What was the question again?” So many had been asked, I don’t know which to answer.
“Are you okay?” Lucy repeats. “You know, because of before.” Her eyes skip to Olivia, knowing that we don’t usually discuss family matters in front of other people. However, she never glances towards Grant.
“Did you tell him, Luce?” An undercurrent of rage flows from my mouth with my words.
Grant speaks, officially pissing me off. “Don’t get mad with her.” His tone is deadly. “If it makes you feel better, she didn’t tell me all of it at first. She wanted to talk to someone besides her brothers, who don’t ever tell her anything upfront anyway. You can’t blame her for that.”
A moment of silence passes. In a way, he may be right.
“Answer the question, Corey.” Patrick brings us back to the topic we started with.
Olivia leans over and whispers in my ear, “Just tell them. It’ll be fine.” Under the table, I feel her arm on my leg, palm up like that night I admitted I needed help.
Reluctantly, I take her hand. “Before I say anything, things are fine. Nothing is wrong.” I keep my eyes on Lucy because she’s the one I don’t want worrying the most. “But, I’m not in school right now and I’m not working at the club either. I’m working with a carpenter full time.”
“But why? You’re going to be behind and—”
“Luce, stop,” I interrupt. “I’m just taking a break to reevaluate.” Yeah, that sounds good. “I never wanted to use my political science degree. I went to grad school because I didn’t know what else to do. If I’m going to spend money on a degree, shouldn’t it be something I want?”
She wants to say something, her mouth is slightly parted, but she doesn’t say anything.
“You’re doing good, though?” Jon asks.
“Perfect.” Anything to stop talking about this.
“Then next time we ask, don’t lie,” Patrick snaps. “How long have you not been in school?” My silence answers his question. Long enough. “You really piss me off, Corey. We’ve been calling you and checking in and all this time, you’ve been lying to us? You don’t lie to family.”
“You lie to Luce all the time,” I throw back at him, trying to keep my temper in control.
“No, I don’t. We might not tell her things right away, but if something changed in our lives, she would know. I wouldn’t lie, especially if nothing is wrong.”
My eyes flicker to Grant. Even if I was going to tell them, I wouldn’t say it in front of him.
“Luce would tell him anyway, so if you have something to say, you might as well say it now. And don’t even use Olivia as an excuse either. We both know why.”
“What are you talking about?” Lucy and Jon both ask at the same time. Patrick didn’t tell Jon? That surprises me.
Lucy sighs. “Why do we never talk about anything? You all never want to say anything to me, and it feels like everyone is keeping secrets or holding back. We’re supposed to be a family. One that is there for one another, but how can we do that when no one is being completely honest?” Softer, she adds, “I’m tired of it being this way.” Grant reaches over and holds her hand.
“Everything is fine right now, Luce,” I say. That’s not a lie either.
“Promise?”
I nod.
“Then what was Patrick talking about with Olivia?”
Kill me freaking now. “She was just there during one of the times when things weren’t fine, okay? That’s it. All we need to focus on is that we’re all fine right now.”
“That doesn’t really tell me anything.”
I groan. “Let it go, Luce. Patrick can tell you later, if you want. If we keep talking about this, it’ll ruin dinner.”
“I think we’ve already accomplished that,” Jon chuckles.
“Then let’s leave,” I snap.
“Corey,” Olivia says as she squeezes my hand. This is a fucking nightmare.
For the first time, Lucy gets really pissed and upset with me. More so than on the last anniversary of our parents’ deaths when I upset her. “She knows, doesn’t she? Whatever is going on with you, she knows all of it. You’re such a hypocrite. I can’t talk to Grant, and you won’t talk to us, but she gets to know it all? We shouldn’t be left out, Corey. We’re your family. I guess that doesn’t mean anything to you anymore.” She stands and rushes outside.
Grant goes to follow after her, but I stop him. “Don’t even think about it.” His jaw locks as I follow after her. She’s wiping away a tear when I walk up to her. “Luce,” I start, but she cuts me off.
“It feels like you’re not even my brother anymore. And I’m not the only one who feels this way.” She stabs me right in the heart. “This has to do with football, doesn’t it? Why can’t you talk to us? It’s not like this is about our parents. We’re supposed to be there for each other, but you won’t let us. Instead, you keep secrets and tell her and get pissed when I talk to Grant. I have to tell someone, Corey. I have to talk to someone besides you and Patrick and Jon. Wouldn’t you rather it be him instead of one of my friends?
“I want my brother back. You haven’t been you, and apparently, you’re faking it or lying about something when you seem like normal again. What’s going on? Please, just tell me.”
My head shakes. I can’t. I can’t tell her. No amount of pleading and begging will make me do it. Her shoulders fall in defeat. Her mouth opens, but I manage to find words to stop her. “Luce, I can’t. I’m sorry, I really am, but I can’t do it. Not today, at least. Take my word for it that I’m good right now. I’m working on things and that’s all I can say. Talk to Grant about whatever you want, Luce. If it helps you, go ahead.”
“You won’t tell me?” She’s disappointed. There’s nothing I can do about that.
“It’s more of a can’t. Not a won’t.”
“Why?”
Closing my eyes, I sigh and take a deep breath. “You know I would do absolutely anything for you, right?” She nods. “I�
�m asking you to do this for me. Give me more time and leave this alone. Please.”
Her eyes are watery and she swallows hard as she thinks. “Okay, but you have to stop lying to us.”
I nod because I don’t want to make a promise. When I lift my arms, she steps forward and gives me a hug. “I’m sorry, Luce. You don’t have to worry about me, I promise.”
“Doesn’t mean I won’t.”
“I know. C’mon, let’s go back inside.”
This is why I hate surprises.
THE DINNER NEVER really turned around, but that’s okay. I got through to Lucy, I think, so I’m good for a while. When we get back, Olivia and I go our separate ways. I’m ready for bed. Maybe the medicine is helping a little because the next morning, while I feel like staying in bed all day, I don’t want to either. Therefore, I take a deep breath, gather all my strength, and get up. It doesn’t exhaust me too much to do so.
Around nine, there’s a knock on my door. I almost don’t answer it, but the only person it can be is Olivia. Why is she knocking? The bad feeling returns in my gut as I answer the door. I blink. My gaze flips back and forth between her and the football she’s holding in her hands. What in the hell is she doing?
When I don’t speak, she frowns. “You aren’t even going to ask?” My non-reaction should be enough of a hint. “Fine,” she huffs. “I want you to throw this with me.”
Hell. No.
I slam the door closed in one fluid motion. Is she crazy? There’s no way I’m touching that thing. She couldn’t pay me a million dollars to hold it. Before I can take three steps away from the door, she’s opening it.
“This is proof you need to see a real therapist. You took one look at this football and froze. You can’t even throw it with me, much less speak when it’s in the room.”
To spite her, I do speak. “I don’t need to do either of those things ever again, so why would I?”
She grabs my arm and waits until I turn around to face her. “You loved the game, Corey. Your dad signed you up and he loved watching you. I bet he would toss it with you, wouldn’t he?” He did. Reluctantly, I nod. “Don’t you want to be able to do that one day with your own kids? Don’t you want to be able to toss the ball with them, go to their games, or talk about football with them? I know that’s a long way in the future, but you need a reason to want to do this, so I’m giving it to you. Think of the future children you may have.”
Future children? Is she serious? I’m about to tell her to get out, just so the damn ball can get away from me, but she speaks again.
“You lost the ability to play, but you did not lose your love for the game. You miss talking about it with your brothers. You can still do that.”
“If I won’t talk to you, what makes you think I’ll talk to a therapist?” I decide to go back to the first thing she said.
“It’s different. You’ll see, if you would make an appointment.”
“How do you know?”
She hesitates before answering. “I’ve seen a therapist before. Look, I’ve got some homework I need to do, so I’m going to do that.” She places the football on my end table next to the couch. “And I’m going to leave this right here.”
Then she leaves. Call me crazy, but when I sit down on my couch, it’s on the opposite side, far away from the ball. Where the hell did she even get it? I know she doesn’t have one sitting around in her apartment. My eyes keep leaving the TV to slide over to the ball. I used to lie in bed and toss it up in the air when I wanted to clear my head. My mind is too clouded with the damn football that I can barely focus on the fact that Olivia has seen a therapist before.
Two hours pass with the ball’s imaginary eyes following me all around my apartment. Finally, I walk over to the end table. My hand hovers over it. In a sudden movement, I pick it up. The weight is painstakingly familiar, the bumpy texture a comfort and an annoyance. After my injury, I threw my football in the trash. I vowed to never pick up another one. There was no need and definitely no want.
Olivia picks this moment to walk through my door. She stops short when she sees me. She closes the door quietly as if she doesn’t want to disturb me. A little too late for that. Still, the football stays in my hand. It’s like an old friend has returned, one you know will leave again or one that’s no good for you.
She stands behind me and wraps her arms around my waist, resting her head against my left arm, so she can peer around me. It’s a new ball, that much I can tell.
“When did you get it?”
“Bought it this past week.”
Interesting. “How long have you wanted to have that conversation with me?”
Her arms fall and we move to the couch, my grip still tight on the ball as she sits next to me.
“Since you made the appointment, but I knew I needed to wait,” she admits. I lay an arm around her shoulders, so she’ll lean into me.
“Holding it feels like home and hell,” I reply with a confession of my own. I’m torn between never letting go and throwing it across the room, hoping to never see it again. The memories come slowly, starting with the first games I remember playing and leading up to some of my best moments in college. With a light trace of reluctance, I give Olivia the ball back. “Here,” my voice strains to say that one word.
I can’t hold it anymore. The memories blur to the harsh reality of my injury and all the hopes I placed in a simple, stupid game. It ruined everything for me, stole all of my dreams, and left me in a hole so deep, I can’t get out.
“Do you want me to take it back to my apartment or leave it here?” Olivia’s tender voice brings me back to the present.
Damn it. Why is she giving me an option? “I don’t care, but it has to get away from me.” My chest feels too heavy and every breath is becoming a struggle. “Right now, Olivia,” I add, my voice rising a bit when she doesn’t move fast enough.
“Okay.” She stands and leaves me long enough to return the ball to her apartment. It’s easier to breathe after that. She comes back and sits next to me, placing her legs across mine as she leans her head on my shoulder. “Better?”
“Yeah. Thanks.” I wonder what she’s doing today and if she’ll hang out with me. Maybe I should get out of the house for a bit. I don’t feel like it completely, but it sounds like something Olivia would suggest I do. Might as well try it, I guess. “Want to do something with me today?”
Olivia glances up at me. “Are you finally asking me out?”
“No,” I quickly answer.
“Why are you so against it?”
Because I can barely stay sane. I’m mean to her sometimes, even though I regret it later because I didn’t mean it. I’m unstable. My mood, my want to have her around, my happiness, it’s shifting all the time. She deserves better than that. She deserves stability. Until I feel like I can give her even a fraction of that, I’m not budging on asking her out. How can I seriously consider it when I’m not in a good place right now? She’s going to stay Olivia, my friend and the girl who can use her see-into-my-soul abilities to help me.
“You’ve already put me through enough today with the football, Olivia. Don’t start a round two. I need an answer before I finish changing my mind.” I lean my head back on the couch, looking up at the ceiling. I swear, one of these days, I’m going to stop looking at it. There’s no way normal people do this as often as I do.
“Well, it depends.”
At this, I lift my head and rest my gaze on her. “What are you talking about?”
“Are you against all sports or only football?”
What does that have to do with anything? “I’m not against all of them. I think,” I add, in case I need a way out of whatever she wants me to do.
She smiles, like she caught on to my loophole. “Ricky, Chelsea’s boyfriend, plays baseball and she wants me to go with her to see him play today. First game of the season. Do you want to go with me?”
Crash the day she’s hanging out with her friend? No, thanks. “No, that’s ok
ay. Go have fun with Chelsea.”
“I thought you wanted to do something with me? Why are you saying no? Chelsea wouldn’t mind. In fact, she’ll be thrilled at the opportunity to embarrass me and get to know you better.”
“Does she like me?” Do I care whether or not her best friend likes me? If she approves of me?
“Yeah, so far, she does. Are you coming?”
“I guess,” I sigh.
Olivia smiles, giving me a quick kiss before standing up. “Good. I’ll drive. We leave in five minutes. I have to run to my apartment first.”
It isn’t until she’s almost to my door that what she said clicks. “Wait a damn second, Olivia. You aren’t driving,” I object, turning to face her.
“You always drive.”
“Because you can’t without almost killing us.”
I should’ve known her grin was evil. “Live a little, Corey,” she replies before leaving me.
“I’M WALKING HOME,” I declare as we walk through the bleachers towards Chelsea. Olivia laughs. I almost died. Three times. First, she pulled out in front of an eighteen-wheeler. I saw my brief, sad life pass before my eyes as she gunned the gas. Then, she came within inches of rear-ending someone. Let’s not forget she almost hit a pedestrian in the parking lot.
“You’re overreacting, Corey.”
I am not. I don’t have time to tell her so before we’re sitting next to Chelsea. She smiles and we exchange greetings.
“I didn’t know you were coming, Corey. It’s good to see you again.”
“You too.” Why am I here again? I’m not a conversationalist. How am I supposed to survive an entire baseball game with two girls? Clearing my throat, I tack on, “Which position does he play?”
“Shortstop. What have you two lovebirds been doing today?”
Lovebirds? Olivia saves me from answering as she takes my hand. “I’ve been doing homework all day. Corey’s being a baby about my driving.”
Chelsea laughs. “How many near-death experiences did you have on the way here?” she asks me.
“Three.” The corners of my mouth lift a little. I’m not the only one who thinks Olivia is a hazard on the road.
Nepenthe (Bracing for Love #2) Page 13