Page 69 of The Love Playbook

Wincing, I lower the volume and head back to my spot near the bench to find Chris working on the car again. “You know what I don’t understand?” I say, sinking back into my chair as I stare at his lower half. “I told you that my father is holding the car repairs over my head in the hopes I’ll cave and agree to be in the wedding, something you also want, yet you’re still helping me.”

“So?”

“So, aren’t you worried he’ll be mad? You’re taking away his only bargaining chip.”

“I don’t care about your father’s approval; I only care about yours, and it seems you need a car, and I just so happen to pride myself on being a damn good mechanic.”

My heart squeezes, surprised by his candor. “I mean, you’re notthataltruistic. You did extort a date out of me.”

“Only because you insisted on giving me something in return.”

I hum under my breath. He’s got me there.

“Anyway, you seemed stressed about not having a car and being unable to go home if and when you need to, and I can help, so . . .”

I sigh and play with the hem of his jacket. “You picked up on that, huh?”

“Hard not to.” His arm darts out from the vehicle, his hand coated in grease as he grabs another tool. “But I get it. Over the summer, I was always running home. Being unable to help out all the time and see my brothers whenever I want is tough now that football season has started.”

Guilt churns in my stomach like acid, because that’s not my problem.

“The truth is I don’t want to go home. In fact, the only time I went home last year was for the holidays. I don’t take summer classes because I have to. I take them because I want to, because being anywhere else is better than being at home.” I release a shaky breath at the confession, suddenly vulnerable. “Doesn’t that make me terrible?”

“Wanting to build your own life doesn’t make you terrible.”

I grunt, wishing I believed him.

Chris slides out from beneath my car and stands, his expression serious as he grabs some kind of large tool that looks like a jack on wheels and rolls it beneath the Rhonda’s frame.

“My mother is sick,” I blurt.

He pauses, sinking down onto the roller, his gaze narrowed in concern. “Like cancer or . . .”

I snort. “Honestly, that would probably be simpler.” I run my hands over my face before I glance down at them and commence examining my cuticles as a means to avoid meeting his gaze. “It’s all mental. Clinical depression is what the experts call it, and it controls every single aspect of her life from her motivation to work to her health and personal hygiene and social life.”

I swallow, afraid of how he’s probably judging her?judging us?when I glance back up at him and catch the sympathy in the watery depths of his eyes. “How long has she been like that?” he asks.

“As far back as I can remember,” I say, unsure of why I’m telling him this. “The truth is, I don’t remember a time when shewasn’tdepressed. There have just been varying degrees of it throughout the years, and sometimes there’s no rhyme or reason to it, either. Like things can be going swimmingly and everything is okay, and still, she’ll lock herself in her room for days and do nothing but weep. There was one year she could barely get outof bed in the morning. My father did everything. Dressed me for school and helped me on the bus. He went to work, then came home and made us dinner while my mother sobbed through all of it. And then there are times where I prepare for her to spiral and she doesn’t, like when I left for school. It makes zero sense to me. The whole of last year, she’d done amazingly well, better than I ever expected.”

I swallow over the lump forming in the back of my throat, remembering how much of my upbringing was like living on a rollercoaster.

“What happened . . .” he asks, his voice soft. “With your parents?”

My chin wobbles as I try to smile. “Eventually, my father’s patience wore out, and they started fighting. After that, any time Mom got bad, they’d bicker. Fights at the holidays or family outings because Dad just wanted us to have a good time, and he couldn’t figure outwhymy mother couldn’t just be happy. It’s not hard to see how he hit a breaking point.”

“So, is the real reason you don’t want my mother to marry your father because you’re afraid?”

“That my mom will spiral?” I clear my throat, sniffing as a bitter laugh tumbles from my lips. “No. I mean, my mother falling into an unreachable depression is an unfortunate side effect, but I was telling the truth when I said your mother and my father will never last. My dad has been serial dating since the day he left my mother, jumping from one woman to the next, barely pausing to take a breath in between. I’m not sure my father even knows how to have a serious relationship anymore, and the one he did have, he bailed on. My mother needed him.Ineed him.” I think that’s the part that hurts the most. “And even though a part of me gets it, he left us both.”

It’s an unfair statement if there ever was one. My mother was unbearable to be around at times, and though I do believe in thevows “in sickness and in health,” part of me is just so damn mad he got to escape her, and I didn’t. That he didn’t take me with him, but instead, left me inside that house, on the front lines of a war I had no part in starting.

“So, your emergency trip home to your mother the other day. Was that . . . ?”

“Because she was spiraling?” I nod. “Pretty much. She’s taking the news about their engagement as well as you’d expect, and I’m not sure I’ll be able to pull her out of it this time. My birthday weekend was spent picking up the pieces and trying to lift her spirits, but I’m in a losing battle, and I know it. So, I’m just trying my best to do damage control, and right now, her job is at stake. She hasn’t gone to work since finding out, and it’s not like I can make her. I can’t be here and at school. I can’t hold her hand and force her to be an adult.”

I fall silent, feeling the weight of my words settle between us like a stone that’s been dropped into still water, sending ripples through the air and lingering in the space between us.

“Damn, Lettie.” Chris shakes his head, rising to his feet.

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