Page 29 of Things I Wish I Said
Ryleigh scoffs. “Oh, I’m sorry. Has your booming social life gotten you down? Let me grab my tiny violin.”
I bite my lip to stifle a laugh. “Okay, you’re right. I wasn’t complaining.” Although I kind of was.
“It’s not your fault my idea of a wicked good time these days is spending the night in the hospital for chemo, then trying my best to hold the barf in.”
“I don’t know,” I say, leaning against my car, ignoring the way the ever-present fist in my gut tightens further. “That doesn’tsound so bad. Free food and cable. Someone waiting on you hand and foot.”
“Oh, yes, and don’t forget all that quality time with my mother who refuses to leave. Twenty-four seven, hovering and asking me if I need anything.”
“Fuck, that does sound bad.”
Truthfully, I don’t know when the last time I spent any length of time with my mother was, and maybe I should resent the fact that family hasn’t been a priority since Dad died, but I don’t. I prefer it this way. It’s easier somehow to go on ignoring what’s missing at home and in both our lives.
“Yep,” she says, popping thep. “So, what are you doing?”
I glance back at my friends who are still immersed in their grueling match of beach volleyball, then to Hannah, who’s sitting on her towel, waiting.
“Just hanging with some friends at the lake,” I say, sounding less than enthused.
“Yawn. Sounds boring. I’d hate that.”
I grunt. “Yeah, it’s not so bad, I’m just in a weird headspace tonight.”
And every other night.
I swallow as my gaze flickers back to Hannah, her arms hugging her legs to her chest, and I hesitate, knowing I need to broach the topic of fidelity or at the very least, the parameters of our deal, but the words stick in my throat.
How do I ask the sick girl I’m fake dating if hooking up with other chicks is on the table?
God, I’m an asshole.
“And why is that?” she asks, not unkindly.
“What?” I ask, distracted.
“The weird headspace. Why are you in it?”
“Oh, uh . . .” I turn back around, trying to buy some time. “I was just wondering when we were going to hang out next.” I wince.Way to sound overeager when you don’t even really want to do this in the first place, dumbass.“I mean, we left things yesterday without setting up a date and time.”
“De Leon, missing me already?” She snickers at the silence on my end, then adds, “Don’t worry, Slugger. I’m just messing with you. What’s your schedule look like? It’s best if we at least get comfortable around each other before you meet my mother, so it’s not obvious we’re full of shit.”
“Okay,” I say, scratching my jaw. “What do you have in mind?”
“Well, I’m unavailable for the next few days because of my booming social life, so that brings us to Thursday.”
“I have a game,” I say, assuming she’ll want to pick another day.
“Okay, that could work. I’ll be dying to get out of the house by then.”
I’m wondering if her words are intentional, if this is more of her dark humor, when she adds, “Send me the time and address, and maybe we could go out after?”
“You’re going to come watch me play?” I ask, unsure of why I’m so surprisedby this.
“Assuming my lungs hold out through the night, yes.”
I pinch the bridge of my nose. Her sense of humor is going to take some getting used to, especially since I know how fast you can lose someone to this fucking disease.
The sound of footsteps behind me draws my attention, and I turn to find Hannah approaching. “There you are,” she purrs before noting the phone in my hand. “Oh. Sorry.” She slaps a hand over her mouth and signals to me that she’ll wait.
