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“Yes, but it sounds like you’ve been a great daughter to her, too.”
“I guess—”
“And you’ve thought through all the risks involved?” She lifts her eyebrows as she sips.
“Of course. No contact sports. That’s no loss. I sing as well as I play sports.” Violet freezes across from me, and I laugh at her. “Please. I’m well aware I stink. But I should be able to live a full and healthy life without my other kidney .”
She smiles at me. “You’re a really good person, June Harlow.”
I wave her off. “Anyone would do it for someone they love.”
“Maybe. But it’s just one example. Like Tabby. You’re talking about how you basically broke up with Duke, but you’re worried he won’t have someone to take care of Tabby.” She toasts me. “Trust me. After breakups, most girls aren’t worrying about what they can do for their exes.”
Is that what Duke and I are now, exes? That leaves an aching hole in my stomach, an empty space that feels wrong. “She needs my help. He does, too.”
“Maybe. But what do you need?” She tilts her head. Her gaze is assessing. Though Violet puts on the facade of serene beauty and fun, she’s much more discerning than people probably guess. “You’re worrying about everyone else. Like a goddamned saint. But what do you need?”
I shift, uncomfortable. Compliments and personal questions make me squirmy. I shrug. “I mean, what everyone needs, I guess. Food. A place to stay. Stuff like that.”
“Those are basic needs.” She scowls at me. “I mean, what is it you want, June? Out of your life, I mean?” She empties her wine glass. “You’ve spent your whole life reacting. To your mother, the foster system, even your own financial situation. Now, this situation with Duke. It sounds like you’re in constant triage. But if you could choose, what would you want?”
I open my mouth, but I don’t have a response. These aren’t things I’ve let myself think about. “I don’t know,” I finally say.
“Well,” she stands. “While you think about it, I think we need more wine.” She tips her glass at me and heads for the galley kitchen.
Unsettled, I follow. “Maybe I would like just a little more.”
Duke
It’sashortflightto Boston, but it does nothing to soothe the chaos in my head. I sit next to Huck, but he must read on my face that I’m not interested in talking.
I spent all afternoon thinking about how June and I left our conversation. With some distance, I admit she’s right about some of it. People are different in how they approach their finances. When she accused me of being blasé about mine, she was right. I’ve never had to worry about money. But I’m in the minority, and it was a dickhead move to forget that.
Do I wish she could have been more open about her financial problems? Yes. I can probably understand that, though. But the surgery… I still don’t understand why she didn’t tell me, and I’m struggling to let it go.
After I get checked in at the hotel and drop my bag in my room, I try to relax. We have a one-o’clock game tomorrow afternoon, so I need to get some sleep. But I can’t settle, so I head down to the lobby. I don’t know where I plan to go, but I know I need a walk.
Huck’s staring into a coffee cup at the bar. I join him, sliding onto the stool beside him. Exhaling, I wave to the bartender. “Angel’s Envy on the rocks.”
Huck hums in response. “Bourbon on a school night, huh?”
I accept the drink, turning it around in my hand. “I screwed up.”
He lifts his mug—which appears to be some kind of tea—and holds it out to me. I toast with him and take a gulp that burns on the way down. “What did you screw up?”
I tell him everything—about the article and my conversation with June. I spill the jumble of thoughts that have been spinning in my head since I found out about how she’s helping Lily. He listens quietly and then sips his drink.
“You did mess up,” he admits.
I glare at him. “That’s not helpful.”
“Oh, you wanted help?” He rolls his eyes. “That’s not what you said.”
I sigh. “Fuck...”
“Maybe it’s not that you screwed up. You overreacted, right after you flinched. That’s what you did.” He shrugs.
“Flinched? I don’t flinch.” I’m a professional hockey player.
