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Speaking of Jace, he’s glaring at me again, which is dumb, because I’m not even laughing. “My grandma made her famous pecan pie, and oh my god,” Jonah moans, walking beside me toward the exit. “You’re going to die.”
It’s eight p.m. on a Wednesday, and we’ve just clocked out. “Like,actuallydie?”
“Probably,” Jonah laughs, giving Jace a curt nod goodbye as we pass him standing behind the counter.
I smile. Wave. He doesn’t react.
Typical.
“They’re letting Amber stay up late so we can sing happy birthday to her,” Jonah says. “It’ll be quick. We’ll do the song, have some cake, then I’ll take you home.”
I stop just before the door and turn to him. “Why are you acting as if I don’twantto go?”
“Please.” He rolls his eyes. “You met my family yesterday, by accident, and they invite you over for my sister’s birthday? It’s weird, Low.”
I stand taller, raise my chin. “Maybe they invited me because they like me.”
“They do.”
“So, what’s the problem?”
“Nothing,” he replies, pushing on the door and holding it open for me. “As long as you keep seeing it that way.”
* * *
An hour later, it’s pitch black out, and I’m back in Jonah’s truck, my belly filled with birthday cake and pecan pie, and I can’t recall the last time I felt this happy.
And sad.
And full.
And completely and utterly void.
Jonah has two little sisters, one a couple of years younger than us, and Amber, who’s fourth birthday we just celebrated. According to Jonah’s mom, after meeting me out in the parking lot of the rink yesterday, Amber had begged Jonah to ask me to her birthday because she thought I looked like Anna fromFrozen. And instead of being embarrassed by his little sister’s request, Jonah promised her he’d ask. So he did. And I accepted.
And I can’t tell yet whether I’m hurting or healing, because the moment I stepped foot in their house, I could tell that those kids were so truly and so deeply and so obviously loved, and while a part of me was incredibly jealous of the fact, I was also genuinely happy to know that a love like that existed and that someone else was able to live in that love.
I wait until Jonah pulls into my driveway before stating, “You have a beautiful family, Jonah.”
“I know,” he says, sighing. “I’m pretty lucky.”
I peer over at him and attempt a smile. I’m glad he knows it, because I didn’t. Not while I had it. And now it’s too late.
* * *
After Jonah helped get my bike down from the bed of his truck, we exchanged a quick goodbye, and I stood by the front of my house, waving at the back of his truck until his headlights disappeared completely.
I already have one foot on the porch steps when I freeze, my breath held tight to listen for the familiar sound—the same sound I’d heard every single night, for hours and hours on end, for years. I’d wake up to it most mornings. Fall asleep the same way. In my heart and in my mind, there’s no mistaking the sound of leather bouncing on concrete, over and over, again and again.
With my aching heart thumping hard against my rib cage, I bypass my house and walk around to the back, getting lost in the sounds as they get louder and louder.
After I spoke to Jace about the stupid bet, I spent the first couple of days looking out of my bedroom window, expecting him to be here. He never was. Some nights, I swear I’d hear the sounds of him dribbling or the ball hitting the backboard, the hoop. But then I’d check and there was no one there, because it was all in my head—these sounds, these ghosts, all coming to haunt me in my sleep.
After the third day, I’d given up hope that he’d ever show up. But he’s here now, and I don’t really understand why.
I don’t need to.
It’s almost like a repeat of the first time I saw him, only this time he’s in black shorts and a matching jersey. His van is here, too, parked so close to the concrete he may as well be playing against it.
