Page 14 of Good Graces

I shrug. “Would be.”

He considers me for a second, the way he always does when he’s about to say something that he thinks I won’t like. “And after that?”

I grab my water, taking a slow sip, buying time. “What do you mean?”

He leans forward, resting his forearms on the table. “After the season. After graduation. You’ve been putting off your grad school applications, haven’t you?”

Mom presses her lips together like she wants to intervene but doesn’t.

I set my water down, shifting my weight. “I’ve still got time.”

Daniel doesn’t call me out on the lie, but he doesn’t let it slide, either. “Warren, we’ve talked about this.”

Yeah, we have. Countless times. He thinks he’s helping, but if I’m not self-motivated, then a pep talk from my stepdad isn’t going to flip a switch in me overnight.

I glance out the window, watching a pair of golfers lazily tee off, trying not to feel cornered. Daniel and I don’t fight. We don’t argue. But I know this is his way of pushing me—nudging me toward a decision, a plan, a path forward.

I know he’s right. I should’ve sent in my applications already. I should be lining up my future instead of waffling between the safe option—grad school—and the unknown of a swimming future.

I exhale through my nose, keeping my expression blank. “I’ll figure it out in time.”

Daniel holds my gaze, then dismisses it. “Alright.”

That’s another thing I like about him: he knows when to let things drop.

The server returns, setting my plate in front of me. I ordered eggs, toast, turkey sausage, nothing special. I stab my fork into the yolk, watching it bleed across the plate.

Mom switches gears. “I ran into your manager, Robbie, last week. He had very good things to say.”

I snort. “Yeah, I haven’t disappointed anyone yet. Or pissed them off, I guess.”

Daniel chuckles. “Sounds about right.”

I glance at him, then back down at my plate. He’s joking, but it still stings. Maybe because once upon a time, he had a real reason not to trust me. A reason I gave him.

I push my food around, keeping my voice casual. “Yeah, well, not much trouble to get into as a lifeguard.”

Mom doesn’t react, but I can feel the shift in the air. The weight of what we’re not saying. Because three summers ago, I wasn’t just the kid whose new stepdad pulled some strings to get him a cushy job at the club. I was the kid who got caught stealing from him afterward.

Daniel clears his throat. “I’m glad it’s working out.”

Mom smiles, reaching across the table to squeeze my wrist. “I’m proud of you, sweetheart.”

Daniel nods, lifting his mug. “Same.”

And I believe them. I do. Even if they’ve got a million things to worry about—bigger things, heavier things—it still feels good to be seen. To be told I’m doing okay, even if I’m not sure I believe it myself most days.

We finish eating, conversations shifting to lighter things. Gossip about the club members, some story about a guy who got caught cheating at poker last week, Mom reminiscing about a trip she wants to take after I graduate.

And for a moment, everything feels easy. Almost normal. Like there isn’t this quiet pressure building beneath the surface. But then I check the time, and I realize I only have fifteen minutes until my shift.

The second I stand up, stretching, adjusting my uniform, I know what’s coming. Like fucking clockwork, that low-grade sense of dread creeps up again. The kind that tightens in my chest and coils low in my gut.

I exhale sharply, shake it off. It doesn’t matter.Shedoesn’t matter.

I drop a few bills on the table. It’s enough to cover my meal, even though I know Daniel would pay for me without a thought. Put it on the Sycamore tab and call it a day. But it’s the principle. I always earn my keep.

Mom stands, pressing a kiss to my cheek. “Don’t work too hard.”

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