“Then why is he such an ass to you? I had to bite my tongue so many times.”
“Don’t. You don’t need to defend me. It’s all in the past. He’s no longer here, so let’s just pretend he never was.”
Cory offers a half-assed smile and changes the subject, knowing I’m done with this conversation.
“Are you up for a greasy breakfast, instead of that crap?” She points to my pathetic bowl of extremely unhealthy cereal.
“Absolutely; let’s go.”
When the night rolls around and the dreaded first day of the semester nerves kick in, I suddenly regret signing up for summer classes. I’m in my sophomore year, and I’d love to say it was because I had grand plans to graduate early or because I was interested in extra learning, but the truth is, I couldn’t bear to stay home, and I didn’t want to get a job in town. Doing that increased the chances of running into my family.
I know it’s strange that a girl who wants nothing to do with her family stays in her hometown and attends the same college as her brother, but I had a good reason. From the moment we met, Cory and I had plans to attend college together. We applied to NYU and Columbia with the dream of moving to New York. When we were both accepted to NYU, we celebrated for days, high on excitement. Nothing could bring us down. Until something did. It brought us so far down, we almost didn’t get back up.
Cory’s mom was diagnosed with breast cancer. Stage three. She needed a lot of treatment and care, and Cory stayed home to be with her. Actually, that’s not right. We both stayed home to be with her. When I’d moved out of my parents’ house at sixteen, I’d moved straight into Cory’s. I loved her mom. Iloveher mom. Her diagnosis devastated me. No matter how uncomfortable staying in this town made me, I wanted to be here for them. Now, as we head into our second year of college, Cory’s mom is thankfully on the mend. Treatments are working and she’s currently in remission. We could have moved to New York this year, but neither of us wanted to. We’d settled in, had a comfortable apartment, and now, it looks like Cory may have a new boyfriend. Things were good—as long as I avoided run-ins with other members of the Kelly family. So, that’s why I’m here, getting ready for my summer classes. Bring it on.
Chapter Four
Dylan
IspentSundayina hangover haze, and come Monday, I’m still recovering from the weekend when my alarm goes off. I fight the tiredness and haul my ass out of bed at some ridiculous hour to go for a run.
Today, it all starts again. More classes, more homework, more training. So much less time. I get why Coach expects us to take classes over summer. Doesn’t mean I enjoy it. Having said that, it’s nice to have a quieter campus, and if I’m here anyway for practice, I may as well get ahead. The hardest thing about it is that Gemma isn’t taking any classes and is already complaining about how little time we’ll have for each other. I completely understand why she’s upset, and I feel the same, but there’s nothing I can do about it, so it’s a pointless argument.
As soon as my feet hit the pavement and the fresh air hits my lungs, I feel somewhat normal again. Some might think it’s crazy to run on days I have practice, but I need it to clear my mind and get my head back in the game. As I hit the three-mile mark on my extended route, I can’t help but frown. I hadn’t even realized I’d come this way. It’s been a while since I’ve run in this direction. It’s a beautiful area and a very popular run route, with tall tree-lined streets that lead toward a river trail with mountain views in the distance. But for me, the reminders ofhimcause the views to fade away.
We traveled along these exact roads, took in the same unchanging sights every weekend that he was home. Mostly, it’s getting easier to think about the good memories, but there are also times when it still feels raw, no matter how much time has passed.
I’m constantly reminded of how lucky I am to have grown up here in Heartwood Falls, California, in such a picturesque and welcoming town with great schools,a college—Heartwood University—and access to different sporting clubs, theaters, and shops. I know it’s true. But sometimes I wonder if I should have left or if I should consider leaving straight after college. As much as I love it here, it’s hard to live up to the legend that was my father—Dean Mathers.
In my younger years, I was a quarterback and loved it. But after…when I changed to wide receiver, I’d made it clear that it was the position I wanted, even though deep down that was a lie. Don’t get me wrong, I’m a pretty decent WR. My speed is one of my strongest qualities, and I love what I do, but I would have also loved to have been a quarterback like Dad.
I just couldn’t live in his shadow. I didn’t want to be compared to him. And make no mistake, that’s exactly what would have happened because they do it now, even though I’m not the quarterback. It would be ten times worse if I were. So, I made the change after he died and never looked back. Everyone believes I’m happy, and I am, mostly.
I pass by parents with strollers on their morning walk, looking like they’ve been up for hours, PJ-wearing kids and adults as they take their dogs out for a quick bathroom break, while others rush to their cars, some with breakfast in hand to begin their morning commute to work. Every one of them waves or acknowledges my existence. By the time I knock out seven miles in my tired state, I’m wrecked.
As soon as I walk in the door, the smell of fresh coffee permeates the air, but I bypass the kitchen and instead head toward the living room and flop down on the couch next to Joel.Much better.He has a textbook open in front of him and his headphones in. I can clearly hear the music he’s blasting, so I don’t know how he can study, or why he’s studying for that matter considering today’s the first day, but the concentration on his face and the rapid note writing would suggest that he is.
Joel’s smart—insanely smart—so he probably doesn’t even need to study, although I guess some might argue that he’s smartbecausehe studies so much. Either way, it’s not my concern. In my worn-out state, I stare at his pen drifting across the page. The way it moves and the slight scratching sound it makes almost feels therapeutic. When Joel looks up from his page and notices me staring, he pulls the earpiece from his ear.
“How is it we live together and yet I didn’t see you at all yesterday?” he asks, ignoring my blank expression.
“Probably because you slept all day.”
“That’s almost true. I slept sixty percent of the day away.” He pauses, then adds, “You were home much later than I was. How did you recover?”
“Slept for ninety percent of the day.” I snort, still not quite believing my antics.
“Nice one.” Joel laughs because he also knows it’s not like me. I am not the guy that gets blind drunk. I’m also not sure Irecoveredat all yesterday; it was a total blur. Leaning my head on the backrest of the couch, I close my eyes. If only I could sleep today away too.
“Did Gemma come over?” he questions, and I hate that I have to saynoagain. “I still can’t believe she showed up at the party,” he adds, and I open my eyes without lifting my head.
Do we really have to go there?I ask with my look. On top of never coming out with me, Saturday night being the exception, Gemma also never spends the night at my place. Says she doesn’t like the thought of someone else being there, and since she rooms alone on campus, it makes sense to stay at her place. I guess she’s right, but I love living and sleeping here. Our place isn’t much, but it’s ours.
We have everything we need—a big, comfortable, grey couch, a huge-ass TV, a fridge big enough for foodandbeer, and two bedrooms. I’d given the en suite to Joel to secure the room with direct access to the back porch. Despite my previous complaints about waking up early, I’m actually a morning person and love a quick stretch and fresh air the moment I wake up.
My room itself is also slightly bigger than Joel’s, so that’s a bonus, and I have the main bathroom to myself, unless we have visitors, which is rare. What more could we want? Oh, I know! A decent-sized bed, somethingI havethat Gemma does not. But alas, we spend nights together at her place because, and I quote, “I’m not a sock on the door kind of girl.” And I wouldn’t want her to be…Wait. Sock on the door?Why does that ring a bell?
I can feel Joel’s eyes on me, but I’m lost in my thoughts. When I don’t respond out loud, he moves back to his studying. I sit silently for a bit longer until I suddenly remember.Shit! I texted Summer.I’d completely forgotten. I remember asking Nate to get me Summer’s number but had blanked on the rest. I’ll need to go back through my messages later. Anyway, the sock is a running joke we have because it’s actually pointless. We’d never barge into each other’s rooms. It’s more of a heads-up that we’ll have company in the morning.