Page 115 of Let It Be Me

Cash looks mildly embarrassed. “Okay, so it’s corny as fuck, but you feel me.”

“Yeah, I feel you. She’s the butterfly. Whatever.”

“Right. And you stopped trying to protect her from everything and let her figure it out herself.”

“And that’s supposed to be the right thing?”

“Yes.”

Everything I trust is telling me that where I am now is the furthest from right I’ve ever been.

Ant: Hey. You around?

I stare at the text,its meaning confusing me more than any three words ever have. Anthony never texts me.

Lorenzo: Yeah

I put my phone in my pocket when it dawns on me that he meant to text someone else that message. I bury the little flare of hope that was just starting up inside me.

I head into my PT session and start on my warm-up exercises. My phone buzzes inside my pocket. Anthony again.

Ant: Can I come by in a little?

I wonder if he’s high. Sara is nowhere to be seen, so I take a break and text him back.

Lorenzo: Yeah, but I’m at an appt now. You know where I live?

I hear Sara’s voice from an adjoining room and she sounds a little pissy, so I do some halfhearted shoulder rolls while I wait for my cousin’s response.

Ant: Your mom gave me your address.

Okay, so he didn’t text me by accident. Which makes things even more confusing. I think back to the last time I saw him: my mom’s birthday party. I don’t think he spoke to me all day, but who knows. Breaking up with Ruby overshadows everything else that happened that day.

Lorenzo: I’ll be home in an hour.

I don’t knowwhat I expect when I park in front of my place an hour later, but it’s not my cousin sitting on the front stoop with two cans of orange soda resting between his sneakers. My stomach tenses with the thought he might have been sent to deliver me some kind of bad news. Someone’s sick, maybe even dead. Jesus. Who would it be?

“Ant,” I call. He looks up and I search his eyes for clues, but he looks normal. A little shady, but that’s his way.

He cracks open one can of soda and hands it to me when I reach the steps. Our grandpa used to give us orange sodas back when Ant and I were kids and would spend Saturdays at his house. I almost refuse the can because I don’t feel like drinking liquid sugar, but something makes me take it. “Thanks.” I sip from the can. “So what’s the occasion?”

He lifts a shoulder casually, like this isn’t the first time he’s reached out to me in years. “I was nearby. Thought I’d check up on you.”

“Nearby doing what?”

“Girlfriend doesn’t live too far away.”

“Girlfriend. That’s new.”

“Yeah.” He looks down as he pops open his own can of soda, trying not to smile.

I sit on the hot concrete steps, and we shoot the shit for a while. It’s awkward, but when I realize he’s not here to bring bad news, I relax. He tells me about his girl and his job.

“So how’s your season looking? You gonna play?”

“Looks like it. Knock on wood.”

“And then what? The Combine?”

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