Page 94 of Let It Be Me

I give an excited clap. I know those words—the Combine—have dominated a corner of his brain for years. We order and Lorenzo rattles on enthusiastically about the new workouts his doctor and trainers have approved for him. His head is already in February, when the Combine takes place. And beyond, I’m sure, even if he makes no mention of the NFL. Beyond college, beyond Lakeside and Shafer. Anxiety takes a brief hold of my insides, excitement and uncertainty and fear. What would Lorenzo’s dreams coming true mean for us? It’s the life he’s been chasing for years, but one where he has little say in where he lives. And if I want to be near him, I’m walking the wrong path.

Our food is set in front of us at the same time my phone buzzes with three quick texts in a row, but I focus on my plate, my mouth watering at the sight of the bright yellow eggs formed into perfect curds and the thick pat of butter melting into thicker toast.

“Who’s obsessed with you over there?”

I glance at my phone and pause when I see who it is. “My mom.”

He pierces his poached eggs with a stab of his fork. “What’s she want?”

I pick up my phone and read all five of her messages, my jaw tightening. “Unbelievable.” I look at him. “She said sorry.”

He swallows hard and thumps his fist against his chest like he’s trying not to choke. “Come again?”

“No, really.”

“Sorry? Wow. Never thought I’d hear that. What exactly did she apologize for?”

I look at my phone again. “She said they’re sorry for how things went at the restaurant.”

“Ah. Yeah. A non-apology.” He returns to his eggs.

“And she wants to know if we can meet up in town Sunday to talk. Apparently they’re passing through on the way back from a wedding.”

Lorenzo arches one brow. “Sketchy.”

I nod. My parents have been to Shafer exactly one time, and that was to drop me off freshman year.

“Guarantee they’re expecting an apology from you in return.”

I drop my phone into my purse. “Probably with tears.”

“Not going to answer?”

“Not now. I don’t need them in my head.” Now more than ever, with decisions to make and deadlines looming, I need a clear mind. I have what I need for my future, and I don’t need them to be part of it.

THIRTY-SEVEN

lorenzo

I knewit wouldn’t end with a simple apology text and an innocent request.

I walk faster down the sidewalk, fueled by the need to see Ruby. I have to fight the urge to break into a run—this isn’t an emergency, but something about it sure as hell feels like it. Ruby just called me with the news that, despite her never responding to them, her parents are about to ambush her with a visit, and I want to throttle them. They always do this to her, always try to take control and get their way. I’m not letting it happen again.

I push through her front door and she rushes to my arms.

“I’m gonna go,” she says before I can say anything.

I pull back to look at her. “Seriously?”

She swallows and nods. “I can’t stop wondering what they want to say.”

“It’s not going to be good, Ruby. History doesn’t lie.”

“They did apologize, though. That’s a first.”

“I’d barely call that an apology.” It’s odd trying to convince her this is a bad idea. If there’s one thing we’re usually in agreement on, it’s her parents.

She turns from me and silently gathers her purse and sunglasses.

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