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“I missed your voice. You’ve been quiet lately.”
Guilt gnawed at my heart. I should have been better at keeping in touch. “Sorry. Things have been crazy with school, my job, and lacrosse.”
“Are you overworking yourself, Tyson? Don’t do that. Don’t put pressure on yourself to get back at your father, not when it can hurt you.”
“I’m fine, Ma. I’m a badass. I can handle it.”
Brax huffed out a laugh.
“Well, you’ve definitely got your father worked up. He says you won’t answer his calls.”
“I don’t know why you do that. Why you talk to him after what he did to us. I hate him.” But a part of me still wanted to make him proud. How fucked up was that?
Brax looked at me, and then…then he reached over, pushed his hand beneath my shirt, and massaged my lower back, like he just wanted to touch me and for me to know I wasn’t alone.
“No,” Mom replied. “You don’t. That’s what makes it even harder. You love him.”
I swiped at a stray tear that leaked from my eye. I was not going to do this. I wouldn’t cry over him, and I sure as shit wasn’t going to do it in front of Brax. “It doesn’t matter if I love him. I still don’t want to talk about him.”
Mom sighed, and I could hear the wobble in it. She didn’t like my answer, but she would respect it. “What’s new with you? Tell me everything.” When Brax cocked a brow, it was obvious he heard her, and weirdly, I knew exactly what he was thinking. I shook my head. He rolled his eyes. “Hello? Ty?”
“Sorry, Ma. My friend Brax was talking to me.”
His mouth dropped open like he hadn’t been expecting me to tell her about him. I hadn’t expected to do it, but he was bugging me, so it served him right.
“Oh, is he one of your lacrosse friends? I don’t remember you mentioning him before.”
“No, we have a bunch of classes together, and we both work at the bar. He hates sports. He’s never even watched me play. Can you imagine?” Brax scowled, and I stuck my tongue out at him in retaliation.
“Why wouldn’t he want to watch you play?”
“I know, right? We went and saw his grandma this weekend, and she and I were teasing him about it. He doesn’t like jocks; well, except for me. He likes me.”
“Well, then, if he likes you, you tell him your mama said he needs to go watch you play.”
My smile grew at her response. “Did you hear that? My mom said you have to come and watch me so I can impress you with my mad skills.”
Mom laughed. “You might have embellished some.”
“I was planning on it,” Brax said, making my gaze snap to his.
“Wait. You were?” It was possible he was just saying that since I’d put him on the spot, but Brax wasn’t the type to do things he didn’t want to do.
Brax groaned and dropped his head. “Don’t make me say it again.”
I joked with him often about my games, but as far as I’d known, I’d been joking. Maybe that sounded weird, not knowing, but why should I care if he watched me play? And yet, hearing Brax say he planned on showing up made an unexpected burst of joy explode in my chest. I wanted him there. I wanted to impress him. I wanted Brax to see something I was good at.
Oh God. Kill me now.
“You know that’s really sweet of you, right? You’re sweet Braxton Walker. Admit it. He broods, Mom. Like seriously broods. I didn’t know that was really a thing.”
“You like this boy,” Mom said, which basically stopped my heart. I willed it to beat again because I hadn’t been serious about that whole kill-me-now thing. I had a lot of life left to live. “Why didn’t you tell me you’re seeing someone?”
The way Brax’s eyeballs fell out of his head, it was clear he’d heard her. Mayday! Mayday! Mayday! This was not going the direction I’d thought it would. “He’s not… We’re not…”
“I want to meet this boy. Put him on.”
“Wait, Mom. We’re not… He’s not… It was…”
“Brax?” Mom called through the phone. I was back to the whole kill-me-now thing.
“Yes, ma’am?” Brax replied.
“Oh, he’s polite. Hear how polite he is, Tyson. Let’s switch to video call. I want to see and talk to Brax.”
Brax looked a little dumbfounded, like he would bolt at any second and never be heard from again, but he cleared his throat and managed to push out another, “Yes, ma’am.”
Mom somehow accidentally ended the call, and I hardly got out an, “Oh shit. I’m sorry,” before the video call came in. “We can ignore.”
“Fuck that. She already thinks I’m a douchebag for not going to your games. This has backfired big-time. Answer the call.”
