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“I want you to be happy, Cassia. Same with Holden. You guys give me hope of finding that person. All I’m trying to say is…I know I don’t have what you two have with Harrison. It wasn’t just the sex that was uncomfortable and awkward. None of it felt right or easy. And…” Her hand falls to her stomach, rubbing tiny circles. “That’ssad, more than scary. I was the kid born to two parents who didn’t love each other. I never wanted that for my own baby.”
I study her profile, deliberating how to respond. Not sure what I can say to make her feel better. “All you can do is make your own choices, Syd.”
She exhales, nodding.
“You and Holden grew up without a mom, and you both turned out pretty great.” I second-guess it as soon as I say it. Her mom is a topic Sydney and I don’t discuss. “You don’t need a perfect family. You’ll meet another guy, who itdoesfeel right and easy with. Harrison will be there, even if it’s not the exact way you wish it was between you. And you have me. Holden. If you think this kid will lack love…it won’t.”
She sniffles and nods. “Thank you.” Grabs a cookie. “Can we watch a comedy? So far, this has been the most depressing girls’ night we’ve ever had.”
I huff a laugh. Hand her the remote.
“We can watch whatever you want.”
Sink back against the cushions.
Wonder what Sydney would say, if I told her that I know of a couple who hadsix kidstogether, then decided to separate. Who went through all the steps you’re supposed to and still ended up walking on different paths at some point.
That what you’re aiming for—what you’re jealous of—is rarely as ideal as it looks.
That nothing is as solid as it seems.
It’s reassuring and discouraging.
There’s nothing to fall short of.
But if that’s the case, what’s the point of even trying?
CHAPTER NINETEEN
HOLDEN
Ispin, dodging the reach of an invisible opponent. The smack of rubber against varnished wood echoes around the cavernous space before I shoot, the orange ball arcing through the air to swish through the net.
My sneakers squeak against varnished wood as I pivot to grab another ball off the rack. I go in for a layup next, my fingers brushing the metal rim as I watch the ball fall through.
“I figured I’d find you here.”
I turn, watching Sydney walk across the empty court.
I’m alone in here, just a bunch of basketballs littering the ground that I’m putting off picking up.
Sydney has come up to Richmond for a few of my games over the past three years, but this is the first time she’s been in the gym when it’s like this—hallowed and silent.
It’s quieter than a church. Huge and empty. And while it’s not the same as being at the court back in Pembrooke, it’s the closest thing to it. It’s so huge in here, all my problems look small.
I could really use that perspective right now.
“You weren’t answering your phone,” she says, stopping a few feet away and shoving her hands into the pockets of her shorts.
I glance toward the bleachers, where my bag sits. “Sorry. I lost track of time.”
Sydney nods, chewing on her bottom lip.
“Did you guys have fun last night?”
“Yeah, it was great. Aside from the obvious. Felt like the old days when she’d sleep over on Friday nights.”
I smile, nostalgic for those nights too. I was always eager to get home and find out if Cassia would be in the kitchen. Should have figured out back then I was a total goner for the girl. That the feelings I thought were an adolescent crush wouldn’t go anywhere, no matter how hard I tried to ignore them. And God, did I try.
