“No, she won’t,” he says slowly.
I’m too emotionally exhausted to push anymore, so I relent.
“Okay, yeah, I’ll go.”
It turns out Connor was wise to invite me. The drive with him, windows down, and then sweating my ass off doing sprints in the Florida heat—they help fortify my resolve despite my sadness and hurt.
Enough that later in the day, I take ownership of the situation.
I don’t need to put myself in a place that will rub the scab she just laid down.
Friends or not in the future, I owe it to myself to avoid more immediate hurt.
RAWLEY: Hey, I just want to say I’m not coming to your game this week.
A few minutes later, her response comes through.
AVERY: I understand.
AVERY: I really want to stay friends, Rawley. I’m here, whenever.
RAWLEY: Okay.
I swallow the tinge of pain from her “friends” comment and put my phone away.
I don’t writeher again after that. Not that night. Not the next day.
Instead, I let hanging with my little brother and playing catch with Johnson kill the time. Distract me from the pain that I know will stay around awhile.
You’ve been through this multiple times, Rawls.
First with Stef, and then the two more times at Texas.
Just more of the same. “Friend-zoned.”
Nothing I can’t handle, even if I don’t want to.
By the day Connor leaves—the day before training camp starts—I wake up without immediately reaching for the phone to see if she’s texted to change her mind.
Time and space. It heals everything.
Ihatethat I have to heal. But I will.
Shortly after I clean up in the bathroom, I hear the front door open and Grover giving little barks at the new arrival.
“Hello?” comes Grace’s voice.
She and Johnson are here for Connor’s goodbye breakfast with all of us.
Rori and Landon also arrived late last night. As is becoming their rhythm, Rori’s going to hold things down for Landon at the house during training camp, practicing out of her Orlando facility instead of the Tampa one.
“Hey, I’m here,” I say, coming out of my room.
“Me too,” says Connor as he stacks another piece of luggage in front of the main door. “Landon and Rori are in the kitchen fixing the food.”
Grace glances toward me. “Uh oh, we probably should have insisted on Rawley taking that duty.”
Landon and Rori are notoriously bad cooks. “It’s eggs and bagels, they can’t mess it up too bad,” I say with a chuckle.
