Out of Play

Just then Mitch lets out a snore, his mouth still hanging open in sleep. And we both laugh—it’s sort of a nervous, need-to-break-tension laugh, but it works.

But then the weight of losing everything at once crashes into me again.

Rebecca’s face changes. “Have you eaten?” she whispers.

I shake my head and clutch my stomach. “Not for a while.” I’ve never not been able to eat. And then I gesture to the mess in my room. “Mitch hasn’t had a problem with his appetite.”

Becca smiles as she watches him drool on my pillow. Only someone crazy in love could see anything endearing about Mitch’s drool. “Of course he hasn’t had a problem with eating. He’s Mitch. At least he’s friend enough to stick around.” She gestures with her head to my door. “Come on.”

Humiliation burns its way to the surface, and I open my mouth twice before getting it out. “I need help to stand up.”

Becca says nothing, just comes to my side of the bed and puts her arm softly around me to help me to my feet. My head pounds, my shoulder throbs, and my hip feels like it’s not only frozen stiff but aching.

“We’ll get you some medicine as soon as you get food,” she whispers.

I’m about to ask where my mom is, because I’m still not in the mood to run into her, but Becca keeps talking.

“Your mom’s at work. She’d already taken some time off and is trying to give you space, so—”

“You guys are talking about me?” I frown as I baby-step out of my room. Hurts to stand, hurts to move.

As soon as I’m in the open area downstairs, I see Gramps’s freezers and then his trailer, and the panic and loss seize my chest again, wiping my brain clear of whatever we were just talking about. Becca’s hand rubs my back a few times.

“Breathe, Pe

I follow her up the stairs, one pathetic step at a time, and into the kitchen.

“This is so weird.” She shakes her head. “Never in a million years did I think I’d find myself wanting to help Pe

I’m sort of amazed I’m taking help from her, too. So much has changed. “Not like I have a choice. I can barely walk.” I lean on the counter, afraid that if I sit I won’t be able to get back up again. The pain of my hip and my shoulder and my ribs is making it hard to breathe, but not like the ache in my chest.

Becca stands in front of the windows, suddenly looking a little small and lost. “I know Mitch had the same clothes on, and I feel horrible for even asking, but…”

I don’t move my head but hold up my hand. “After kissing Bishop, I totally see I don’t feel that way about Mitch. Lying next to him was nothing like lying next to Bishop. And the stupid ass thinks I should be playing on a girls’ team for college anyway.”

A corner of her mouth pulls up. “Only you, Pe

I snort. “He did not fall in love with me, or he’d be here.” The last few words come out all shaky, and tears threaten my eyes again, but there’s no way in hell I’m crying again. Flashes of pictures I’ve found of him while stalking the Internet roll through my brain even though I wish I could erase them. Way too much of his cocky smirk and way too many girls who look like Victoria’s Secret models.

Becca pushes two pieces of bread in the toaster before folding her arms. “I sat sort of near Bishop when you practiced and watched that boy when you got hurt. Whether he fully knows it or not, he’s kicked-ass, insane-crazy in love with you. Trust me.”

Her words press into the anger I’m holding on to—it’s so much easier than hurt. “And that’s how Mitch is with you, so why are you worried about him?”

She fingers the clip in her hair for a moment. “Because I know he loves you, and he swears it’s not the way I’m thinking, but it can turn so easy. That’s why. Honestly, Pe

I shake my head, feeling both empty and weighted at the same time. “Trust me. I can’t… I don’t know what I want right now.”

“When you figure it out? Do it. You have to see that you have a knack for getting what you want because you work your butt off for it.”

So much of what she said echoes Bishop’s words. It’s too much to think about him right now, but maybe, maybe, Becca’s right on one count. Maybe I can just decide for me. Whatever I want. And make it happen. “Why did you come help me?”

She laughs as she moves to the fridge. “Two reasons. One, your mom asked, and before you get upset about that, it’s because she’s trying to be nice. Two, so I could watch you with Mitch.” She sets the OJ back in the fridge and doesn’t make eye contact. “If I’m being perfectly honest.”

I grin, feeling a little lighter since it looks like Becca and I can be straight with each other. “Fair enough. And…I think you’re good for him.” Crazy thing is that I mean it.

Becca slides the toast onto a plate, taking one for herself. “I’m scared because he wants me to follow him to Washington, but I’m staying up here. I just… I don’t want to spend the money, and I don’t want to be so far away from home. I think it’s got him nervous.”

I take a few nibbles of the toast Becca sets in front of me. “Mitch is crazy about you. You two will be fine.”

“And so will you, Pe

I stop chewing as I think about the amazing things this could mean. “Which team?”

She pauses and takes a huge bite of her toast with a smile. “The men’s coach. He’s pulling strings right now to take you, if you want to go.”

I’m stu

…

We climb in the car after Gramps’s funeral. It was nothing of what he would’ve wanted and everything that every single funeral is—crying people who didn’t know the deceased nearly as well as they thought they did. As soon as I figure out what I really need to do for him, I’ll do it. Until then, I’m going to do everything I can to erase this day from my memory.

Mom hits a bump in the road, and I flinch. My stupid brace isn’t much of a brace, and the pain meds just aren’t keeping up, especially on a day like today when I’m moving around so much.

Mom clears her throat and shifts in her seat. “I have things to say.”

Nervousness builds as the silence stretches, and mom re-grips the steering wheel like fifty more times. “Things to say?” I prompt.

She pulls in a long, slow breath. “I judged Bishop harshly, and I’m sorry. He tried to be next to you when you got hurt and were on the stretcher, and I lost it. I was angry because I felt like he was intruding and I was pushing you away when I didn’t mean to. I wasn’t fair to him when you got hurt, and I’m sorry.”

How would things be different if she hadn’t told him to stay away? Would they be? I’m so tired of being angry that I’m not sure what to do or say. If she didn’t sound so…sorry, it would be different.

“I know that I give you a lot of freedom, but the morning you walked out of his cabin… I could see you throwing away everything for him. Did you know a nurse I work with was two semesters away from being a doctor?”

“No.” I’m afraid to look at Mom, so I stare at the snow-filled trees flying by as she drives.

“Two semesters left, and she gave it up for a guy from Seldon.”