Page 74 of High Hopes

“Bad things first,” James says, stealing a pen from Hayes and clicking it dramatically. “What makes her upset?”

“Loneliness,” I say immediately.

“Failure,” James adds, knowing exactly why we’re in this predicament in the first place.

“David fucking Donovan,” I mutter, earning a collective groan of agreement from the table.

“Okay, solid start,” James says, scribbling furiously. “Now for the glad things. What makes her happy?”

“Pottery,” I say, a small smile tugging at my lips. “She’s incredible at it. It’s her whole world. And even though it’s been tainted by losing the fellowship, I know she’ll find her way back.”

“What about family?” Jade asks. “Does she get along with them?”

“Yeah, she loves her dad,” I say, thinking back to how she lights up whenever she talks about him. “That’s where she is now.”

“What else?” James asks, tapping the pen against the table.

“Sour candy.” When I brought it to her in the studio, she practically salivated before ripping the bag open and devouring half of it in one sitting. It was kind of adorable.

“And Liam,” Emmy says with a smirk, nudging Hayes.

“Liam,” James repeats, adding it to the list with an exaggerated flourish. “Glad column, top of the list.”

I shake my head, but there’s a warmth in my chest I can’t ignore. It’s true—her smile changes when she’s with me. It’sfreer, like she doesn’t have to keep her guard up. I make her happy, and somehow, she makes me feel like I’m not so hard to figure out.

When James finishes, he slides the napkin across the table. “There you go. Your game plan. When she’s ready to talk, hit her with the glad things. All the glad things.”

I stare at the napkin, at the messy scrawl of words, and let out a slow breath. It’s silly, maybe even a little juvenile, but it feels like a step in the right direction.

“Thanks,” I say, pocketing the napkin.

“Don’t mention it,” James says, clapping me on the shoulder. “Seriously, don’t. I have a reputation to uphold.”

We all laugh, the tension breaking, and Jade grabs her ball for another turn. The game winds down not long after that, but the energy lingers as we pile into the cars and head back.

It feels good to have a plan. Like maybe I can help Birdie find her way back to herself. And when she does, I’ll be there, waiting to catch her the next time she falls.

Christmas dinner is justas unbearable as I expected. The table looks like it belongs in a magazine—polished silver, crystal glasses, and garlands running the length of it, all meticulously curated by my mom, who thrives on making sure every holiday appears perfect.

But sitting here, everything feels off.

James is across from me, throwing out the occasional sarcastic comment to lighten the mood. My mom keeps glancing at my dad like she’s bracing for impact, and my dad? He’s carving the turkey with the same precision he uses to sculpt clay, like even this is some kind of art piece he’s obligated to perfect.

“So,” I say, breaking the stifling silence. “Thought you might like to know that Chase got his Adidas contract. He’s leaving in January for whatever team picks him up.”

James perks up, clearly impressed. “That’s huge. Good for him.”

My dad doesn’t even look up from his plate as he mutters, “What about you, Liam? Any plans to get serious about what’s next?”

And just like that, something snaps. I’ve been holding my tongue since the fellowship dinner fiasco, but I’m done pretending everything is fine.

“What’s next?” I say, leaning back in my chair. “Maybe sabotaging more of my relationships. Seems like that’s the family tradition, right?”

My mom freezes mid-cut, her knife hovering over her plate.

“Excuse me?” my dad says, his voice sharp and measured.

“You heard me,” I snap. “Birdie worked her ass off for that fellowship, and you made sure she didn’t even stand a chance. All because what—she asked me for help? I thought that’s what you’re supposed to do for the people you care about.”

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