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I wait until he’s out of earshot before speaking. “Are you okay?”
“Tired,” she whispers.
“You didn’t sleep well?”
She sighs and finally looks up. She starts to speak but my phone rings—cutting her off. She raises her hand in a wave and slowly closes the door in my face.
“Fuck,” I whisper, reaching into my pocket. Chloe’s name flashes on my screen and for a moment I panic. I hit answer. “Everything okay?”
“Jesus Christ, Shitstain, I’m in remission, not on my deathbed. You don’t need to panic every time I call.”
I chuckle under my breath. “You’re bright and chipper this morning. I’d call you names, but it’s not nice to tease girls. Besides, your life sucks enough. You’re married to Hunter.”
She cries out in pain.
“What? What happened? Chloe!”
She cackles with laughter. “Sorry, I was just reacting to your epically shitty burn.”
I shake my head and make my way over to Tommy. “What do you want?”
“Well… I’m here visiting my parents.”
“Oh yeah? Hunter’s playing away this week, right?”
“Yup.”
“So what’s up?”
“Tommy.”
I laugh. “What about him?”
“Can I come and play?”
A half hour later she shows up with gifts from her and Hunter—mainly Duke merchandise and a little Duke jersey with Hunter’s name on the back. We’ve been to his games a few times and Hunter always manages to get us all access tickets, locker rooms and all. I don’t think Tommy fully understands how much of a big deal his Uncle Hunt really is. “You didn’t have to get him all that,” I tell her, walking her from her car to the back yard. I glance up at Becca’s window for the tenth time this morning. She’s not there. She never is.
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“So what’s been going on?” Chloe asks, catching me distracted by my phone.
“Same old, C-Lo. You know me.”
“No,” she says, standing up and walking over to me while wiping sand off on her jeans. “Something’s going on. I can tell.”
I figure fuck it. I have no one else to talk to about Becca, at least no one who’s not going to give me shit about it like Rob and Kim. So, I spend the next fifteen minutes talking while she listens and Tommy plays. I don’t tell her everything. I keep out the parts I know are too private or personal. She smirks at first and I know deep down she wants to tease, but she doesn’t. She just nods and tells me to go on. I tell her about last night, about Becca’s nightmare and how she hasn’t spoken to me since. And as each event, each word, leaves my mouth, I can see Chloe’s frown deepen.
“So that’s it,” I say. “And I don’t know what to do now.”
Chloe clears her throat, her eyes on Tommy. “You know, I get it. I mean, you were there from the very beginning with Blake and I. You saw me push him away, afraid I’d hurt him with the whole cancer thing. You remember what you said to me?”
I shrug. “Honestly, no. Did I call you a bitch?”
She punches my arm and laughs so loud it frightens Tommy.
I add, “Because I’m pretty sure that’s what I was thinking at the time.”
“Shut up!” she whines. “I’ve had cancer. Don’t be mean.”
“You can’t pull out the cancer card whenever you feel like it. It doesn’t work like that.”
“Bullshit, I can’t. I can do whatever I want.”
I laugh. “So what did I say?”
“You said that if he wanted to spend time with me—that it was his choice. But I had to let him make it.”
“I don’t see how that’s at all relevant.”
“Make your choice, Josh. You want to see her…” She points to the main house. “…go see her. But be ready to get turned down—because if she’s anything like me—she’ll keep pushing. Don’t give her the chance.”
“So what you’re saying is I should do what Hunter did and propose to your crazy ass.”
She laughs again and throws her arm around my shoulder… then gets me in a headlock and starts ruffling my hair. I wriggle out of her hold and stand in front of her. All joking aside, I say, “Thank you, Chloe.”
“You’re welcome.”
I tug a strand of her short hair. “And I’m kidding—about the bitch thing, kind of. You’re just lucky you’re beautiful.”
She pouts. “I have a feeling you’ll be fine, Warden.”
I nod and shove my hands in my pockets.
“What are you doing?” she asks.
“What?”
“Don’t just stand there! Go get your girl.”
“Now?”
“I got Tommy. You got time. What you don’t have is excuses. Go!”
11
-Becca-
secret
Ë?siËkrɪt/
adjective
not known or seen or not meant to be known or seen by others.
Josh’s voice filters from downstairs up to my room and I sit up slightly—afraid he’s going to be at my door at any moment. But it’s not him that comes. It’s Grams. She’s holding a box, smiling like the Cheshire cat. “Joshua just dropped this off for you,” she says, setting it on my bed by my feet. She slowly backs out of the room, her eyes shifting from me to the box and I can’t help but smile. I raise my hand and wave for her to sit down on the bed. Her smile widens as she picks up the box and hands it to me. “What could it be?” she says, rubbing her hands together.
