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bsp; Dad chuckled. “Heck, there are some days even I feel like giving up on research and starting a patisserie on Main Street. We change as we grow older, Katrina. You’re not stuck to a choice you made years ago. This is your life. There’s no plan. You’ve got to figure it out for yourself.”
I could’ve started crying again with relief right there, but as I reached for Dad’s hand and held tight to Mom’s, we all just started laughing. We giggled as we threw out silly names for Dad’s patisserie shops. Scientific Sweets. Failed ExperiMINTs. The Nutty Researcher.
That spiraled into listing off the most ridiculous career plans we could think of for my future — including backup dancer for Miley Cyrus and the circus. We laughed and laughed until we cried. And when we were finally done, both of my parents wrapped me up in a hug so tight I could’ve died of happiness.
“So now that that’s done.” Mom brushed my curls off my shoulder and kissed my cheek. “What’s this thing about a boy? Because I was equally shocked to hear my daughter has a thing for a boy and neglected to tell me.”
The lump in my throat was back. Mason. The last few minutes of joy had managed to dull the ache in my heart, but now it was throbbing again.
I made a face and waved it off. “It doesn’t matter anymore. He’s getting back together with another girl. A better girl. But I couldn’t go on without letting him know how I feel.”
“A better girl? That’s nonsense.” Dad scowled so harshly it almost looked comical. “There’s no one better than my daughters. There must be something wrong with him.”
There was nothing wrong with him. Absolutely nothing wrong with Mason Finnick.
“He can’t help it. It’s fate,” I said, trying to shrug it off. “They met at a special summer camp for kids who dealt with cancer. They were long distance for years and then his mom got a job at the hospital here and they could finally be at the same school together. Fate.”
Mom’s lips pursed. “But then they broke up?”
“Yeah, for a bit.”
“Doesn’t sound like fate to me. Sometimes, you don’t realize you’re not meant to be with someone until you’re faced with them every day. That’s why I broke up with my ex-fiance after residencies. Turned out, when we weren’t running around chasing after our dreams, we weren’t good together.”
I chewed on my tongue as Mom gave me a peek inside her past. She didn’t talk about it much. She preferred to focus on the future. But I had to admit it was nice to know that even my confident and assured mother could make mistakes and change them for the better.
“And soon after that, she met me,” Dad said with a grin. “And she couldn’t imagine her life with anyone else.”
Mom scrunched her nose at him and kissed him softly, before turning back to me. “It’s true. So just remember, life doesn’t always follow fate or a plan. Sometimes, we just have to make our own path.”
“Whether that’s Pre-Med or pre-circus,” Dad added, jabbing me lightly with his elbow. “I happen to think you’d make a beautiful clown, bug. If that’s what you want.”
I laughed and shoved him playfully. “The only thing I want to do right now is work on my sculpture and cheer on my school at the big basketball game against Silver Lake tonight. Is that okay with you?”
“That’s good enough for now, bug.” He tried to ruffle my curls, but I ducked him. “We’ll see you at home after work. Love you.”
“Love you, both!”
My heart sang as my parents left. Who could’ve known that they’d been on my side this whole time? I only wished that I’d been honest with them ages ago. All of this pressure I’d been feeling was finally lifted. I felt free to be whatever I wanted. And free to have time to figure that out. Artist? Surgeon? Or both? The possibilities were endless.
And as I turned back to my sculpture, I was hit with a sudden rush of inspiration. That old familiar itch in my fingertips was back. All of my work this afternoon to cleanse myself of everything that was weighing me down seemed to have relit the artistic fire in my soul. With the help of an extra pair of work boots from the supply closet and a heated torch, I was ready to get back to work. And as I tackled the twisted metal with a renewed energy, there was only one lingering regret in the back of my head.
If only Mason could see me finding my own happiness.
I knew he’d approve.
Chapter Twenty-Four
The cheers from the gymnasium were deafening. I held my mom’s power suit jacket over my arm, the residual heat from the welding torch fading on my skin, and peered inside the doorway. After hours spent tucked away working on my statue and avoiding the rest of the world, I’d finally poked my head out to find I’d almost missed the entire day. I carried a little bit of guilt about missing my classes, but that didn’t compare to how I felt about nearly missing the big game!
The score was incredibly close. Silver Lake led by three points, with a minute left on the clock. Our side of the bleachers looked more like an angry mob than a group of sports fans. They booed and jeered as Silver Lake took possession of the ball and cheered like mad when Mason stole it back.
My heart lurched inside my chest when I first spotted him. Gone were the fancy clothes from earlier today. Mason seemed to be much more at home in his white sleeveless jersey and matching shorts with the number twenty-three sewn on his back. As he dribbled the ball down the court, his forehead shone with sweat. The hard muscles of his arms gleamed beneath the glow of the florescent gym lighting. He wore a dark, focused expression like the fiercest of warriors.
And as he crossed half court, he yelled out a play to his teammates. They moved in quick succession, almost like a dance, and sank a two point shot — leaving us trailing Silver Lake by only one point as they called a time out.
I leaned my head against the door frame, feeling the weight of the emotions I’d stuffed down and managed to ignore for most of this afternoon. There was no point in denying it. Mason was as beautiful as ever. He owned the court, just like he owned my heart. I stared at him in awe for a good ten seconds before the cheerleaders doing a routine on the other side caught my eye.
There was Audrey, in her raccoon suit that I’d altered for her into the perfect high school mascot outfit. Audrey had decided tonight was special enough that Rascal the Raccoon needed to make an appearance. The new costume was a million times cuter than the old stuffy raccoon head Savannah had forced her to wear. It smelled better, too.
