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“You don’t get it, Cutter. I am willing to go anywhere. Boston, Miami, Newport, Chicago, Vancouver. I don’t care where I get my opportunity to play professionally. If Finland wants me topick up and move there to play, I’m going. I worked too hard. I want it too much to quit on it.”
“You don’t have to quit, Laney. This is absurd!”
I don’t understand where this is coming from at all.
She pulls her bag up to the foot of the bed then zips it closed. She gathers the handles in her palm but pauses, staring at her grip.
“Where do you want to play, Cutter? If you go pro, which let’s be honest, you’re good.You’re so good.”
I suck my lips into a hard line because her compliment feels more like a curse the way she’s saying it.
“I don’t know yet. The Boilers have sent scouts, and it would be cool to play close to home, but?—”
“Right there. That’s it,” she cuts in.
“What’s it?” I shake my head and lean into the door jamb while she jerks her bag’s shoulder strap up and over her head then turns to face me.
“I want to go anywhere. And you, you want to be home. Your home is here, Cutter. And there is nothing wrong with that. You have an amazing family, and your mom and your relationship . . .gah!I can’t even describe the envy I have. I love that you love your mom so much.”
I push from the wall and take a step closer to her.
“I don’t have to stay close to home, Laney. But that’s in the future. We aren’t even there yet. We’re here right now, and I love you right here. And if this blooms into ride-or-die then yeah, I’ll go wherever you want. I’d do that for you.”
I would, and now that I’ve said it, it feels so easy. The easiest thing ever. I know it in my gut.
“But I don’t want to make you do anything for me, Cutter. And that’s the problem. It hit me watching you with your mom. Hearing her talk about how selfless you are. I’m not like you,Cutter. I’m selfish, just like my dad. And I will pick me and what I want, even if that means leaving you behind.”
Her eyes blink away tears and she chews at her lip. She’s holding everything in. Not the negatives or her anxieties, but she’s holding back the desires and the conflict. She’s giving up.
“You aren’t your dad, Laney,” I say.
She shakes with a quick laugh.
“I’m more like him than I care to admit, I’m afraid.”
We stare at one another for what feels like a full minute, though I know only a few seconds go by. It’s quiet. The house feels as if the oxygen is being sucked away.
“I guess that’s a risk I’m willing to take Laney. I’m not going to predict all theifs.I want the ride and will deal with ifs whenever. We would deal with them together. Because I fell for you.”
She blinks through more long silence.
“Then I guess you lose.”
She shifts her weight and crosses her arms, and even though the red in her eyes betrays her, she holds firm.
“Fine,” I finally say, moving past her to my side of what was our bed. I bend down and pull my empty travel bag out from under the bed. I flop it on the mattress and pull the zipper open wide before moving to the closest drawer and fishing out an armful of sweatpants and shorts. I dump them in the bag then put my hands on my hips as I stare her in the eyes. Daring.
“I’ll move out then, Laney. Because you’re right. I lose. I lost. I fell for you. I fell fucking hard. So the room is yours. You can sleep here all alone and have all the room you want.”
Her hands grab at the sides of her jersey as she hugs herself, her teeth gnawing at her bottom lip. Her gaze darts from my face to the bag as her body sways in a tiny motion. She’s so close. So damn close.
“Good,” she finally utters, turning her back to me and marching out the door. I follow behind for a few steps, just enough to watch her basically sprint down our short hallway. The front door slams shut a few seconds later, and I’m left alone staring at my travel bag and the quiet, cozy space that was hers and mine for the best month of my life.
I start filling my bag with clothes until I’ve cleared out most of the drawers then zip my bag up and flop face first and sideways on the bed with my arms hanging off. I lay like that long enough for my hands to get tingly from the blood pooling in them. When I finally roll to my back and let my head hang upside down I’m struck by Ivy staring at me from the doorway.
“It was pretty hard not to hear all of that,” she says.
I run my hand over my face then roll over one more time to sit up. My head hurts, but I think only partially from my stint upside down. I think it’s taking over for my heart, which hurts like hell. It needs a break.
