Total pages in book: 69
Estimated words: 66289 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 331(@200wpm)___ 265(@250wpm)___ 221(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 66289 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 331(@200wpm)___ 265(@250wpm)___ 221(@300wpm)
I should probably catch the bus back to Aunt Bette’s.
My stomach swirls, anxious at the thought of asking her if Talon stopped by today. Part of me hopes he did, the other part hopes he didn’t.
With my bag in tow, I trek to the nearest bus stop and wait for the blue line bus.
If I’m going to get through these next two months, I need to toughen up and stop feeling sorry for myself. It’s not the first time I’ve been floating on a breeze only to have life knock me down … and it won’t be the last.
Life has always, always been consistent like that.
I should be used to it by now.
Chapter 44
Talon
I return home expecting to walk into a quiet, empty apartment, only to find my living room couch occupied by three of the last people I want to see right now.
“Get out,” I say to Mark, Ira, and my mother.
They exchange looks, none of them trying to move. On the coffee table in front of them is a stack of white papers with Richmond’s logo along the masthead.
“What is this, a fucking contract intervention?” I ask.
“Sweetheart, we’re only trying to help.” Mom is the first to break their silence. She stands, gingerly making her way across the room to where I stand, but when she gets here, she keeps a careful distance, like she’s dealing with some kind of unstable basket case.
And maybe they are.
They took the one thing I loved, the first thing I ever truly loved, and ripped her out of my life without warning.
“All of your dreams are about to come true, Talon,” Mom says. “All you have to do is sign.”
I think about what Irie said last weekend, that I loved the game once, I can love it again. Deep down I know she’s right. I could sign the contract, I could love the game again. But standing here, in front of three people who couldn’t give a shit less about what I love and what I want, makes the idea of giving in a bitter pill to swallow.
“Don’t you mean all of Mark’s dreams?” I shoot him a look. Funny how quiet he’s being. I imagine the little bombshell I dropped on him earlier this week has got him feeling tongue-tied today. “Fuck football. And fuck you, Mark.”
“Talon.” Mom gasps, her hand splaying over her chest. “I don’t understand what’s going on. It’s like ever since you met that girl, you’ve become a different person.”
“Don’t put this on her.” My words slice through the small apartment. “Leave her out of this.”
“We get that you loved her,” she says.
“Love,” I correct her. “I love her.”
“Honey, I know you’re hurting right now and break ups are never easy, but—”
I knew it.
I fucking knew it.
“What did you say to her?” I ask. “Huh? What’d you say to get her to leave me?”
She turns back to Mark, who gives a subtle shake of his head. I’m sure whatever she said, whatever she did, Mark was the puppet master behind it all.
“What. Did. You. Do?” I ask again, teeth gritted.
“Talon …” Mom looks like she’s two seconds from turning on the waterworks, but I don’t have time for this shit.
So I leave.
I go.
I get in my car and I drive to Bette’s—again.
And if Irie’s still not home, I’ll sit and wait.
Fifteen minutes later, I’m trotting up Bette’s walkway and knocking on the door. The sound of footsteps on the other side is a relief, even if they don’t belong to Irie.
“Hello again,” Bette says when she answers.
“Irie isn’t back by chance, is she?” I ask, realizing how breathless and worked up I am.
“Oh. Um …” Bette presses her lips into a thin line. “I don’t know that this is such a good time for a visit, Talon. Maybe try again another—”
“Aunt Bette, it’s fine,” Irie interrupts, stepping out from behind her great aunt. “I’ve got this. It’s okay.”
“You sure?” she asks. I look past Bette to find her friend, Brynn, in the mix as well. It kills me to think about what she’s been going through today, all of it at the hands of Mom and Mark.
Irie nods as she makes her way out to the front stoop and Bette closes the door behind her.
“I don’t know what they said to you, Irie,” I begin. “But whatever it is, you don’t have to listen to them. This … us … it’s not their decision.”
Her arms are folded and her gaze is steady on her bare feet.
“You know the other night when I asked what you wanted in life? Everything you listed off … those are the things I want too,” I say. “And I want them with you.”
Her glassy eyes lift onto mine, but she doesn’t say a word.
“You know why this is so complicated?” I ask. “Because it’s real.”