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“No, I don’t want that. You know me. I don’t take handouts.”
“Righteous fuck,” he mutters, and I scoff. “I mean, all you can do is trust her and hope Davenport doesn’t kick you off the team and ruin your career.”
I groan, leaning my head back. “God, I’m glad I called you.”
“Right? I’m basically your Dr. Phil,” he says, and I roll my eyes. “I think it’ll be fine. Do you trust her?”
“I do,” I admit, breathing in deeply. “I kind of want to contact him myself, though.”
“Not surprised. But you might want to ask her how she feels about that.”
“True,” I agree, sighing heavily. “And what about Mikayla?”
He scoffs. “Hire a hit man?”
“My mom would do it, probably.”
“Probably, but I like her and don’t want her in jail.”
“Yeah, she’s a cool chick.”
We laugh in agreement before he says, “I think you need to stop being a crybaby bitch and call the chick who belongs in a padded room. You have too much shit going on to deal with her psycho ass.”
As much as I don’t want to agree, I know he’s right. “How would you go about it?”
I’m met with Cruz’s laughter. “Bro, I’d tell her to go fuck herself—and her momma—and to never contact you again. Short and simple.”
I exhale the breath I was holding. “I feel like if I call her, I’m going to go off and unload.”
I can practically hear him thinking. After taking a deep breath, he asks, “Would that be so bad? Maybe you need to. Maybe that’s your closure.”
“I don’t know,” I admit, considering his question. “I don’t want to talk to her. I hate her.”
“I know,” he says slowly. “But I think you may need to tell her your truth, get it off your chest, and then nothing will be holding you back.”
I like the sound of that and how it makes me feel. We hang up after I thank him, and the store owner comes to my car to give me the food. I place the bags on my passenger seat and then send a quick text to Lou. She answers when I’m turning out of the parking lot.
Louisa: Can’t wait to see you. I’m hungry. For you. And, I guess, some lo mein.
I grin from ear to ear as I head toward the shop. Cruz is right. I can’t truly fall for this girl and give her my heart until I let go of what broke it. I feel my heart start beating harder the closer I get to the shop. When I pull up beside Louisa’s Nissan Rogue, I put my truck in park and reach for my phone. I find Mikayla’s number, and I stare at it for a few before hitting it.
I feel my body going into panic mode. My skin tingles, my heart is racing, and I feel like I’m going to puke. My chest tightens when her voice fills the line.
“Hello?”
Instantly, I’m taken back to the moment she told me her daughter wasn’t mine, but her neighbor Wyatt’s instead. She was wearing a USA tank top and short shorts that showed off her thin legs. Her bright-blond hair was in a slicked-back ponytail. She was beautiful, America’s girl, and I mean that in every sense of the word. She slept with all of Michigan, while convincing me she loved me.
“Mikayla, it’s Ciaran.”
She gasps. “CC! Hey!” Her nickname for me makes me cringe. I wasn’t a fan back then, but I loved her, so I went with it. Now, though, I never want to hear it again. “It’s so good to hear your voice!”
“Let me be clear. This isn’t a call to reconcile. I’m calling to tell you to leave my mom alone,” I demand, my hand shaking against the wheel. “Don’t go to her house. Don’t call her. Leave her alone.”
“I mean, I only contacted her to get to you.”
“Stop,” is all I can get out before I clear my throat. “I have nothing to say to you. I don’t want you, I don’t want to see you, hear your voice, or even be in the same room as you. You broke me, Mikayla. Into pieces.”
“I was young. Like, come on, we were good together.”
