“What about Kelly?”
“I’m not going to put her in a position like that.”
“Put me in what kind of position?” Kelly comes into the break room with Vik and West trailing behind her.
“What is this, Atlanta Thunder day at the library?” Bodi asks, laughing.
“I randomly stopped in to finally get my library card,” West says, laughing. “And Kelly told me there was lunch.”
“Sue and Virginia already ate,” Kelly says, “and I don’t want the food to go to waste. Now what did you want to ask me about?”
“I’ll tell you later,” I murmur.
“I dropped the ball on drinks,” Bodi says. “I’m sorry about that.”
“There’s bottled water and soda in here,” Kelly calls, rummaging through the refrigerator.
“Hey.” Bodi wraps his arms around me from behind and presses his lips close to my ear. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you.”
“I’m not upset with you,” I whisper. “Just frustrated with the whole situation.”
“We’ll figure something out, but we can talk about it later.” He kisses my cheek. “Don’t worry so much. Trust me.”
He has no idea how much I want to.
I’m just not sure how.
Chapter
Twenty-Three
Bodi
Dear Bodi,
I don’t know whether to laugh, cry, apologize, or some combination of all of them. The scene at the cookout today was a total clusterfuck—and I hate that you had to be part of it. For some reason, I always seem to make a fool of myself in front of my dad. Whether it’s at one of his games or throwing up on stage during the fourth grade spelling bee, I can’t seem to do anything right when he’s around.
It wasn’t quite this bad when Mom was alive. She seemed to be the Hugh Whisperer, always able to talk him off the ledge. With his temper, his bad moods, his lack of patience with ME… Once shewas gone, I started to notice all the little things she managed to mask for most of my childhood.
Now I mostly walk on eggshells, because Lourdes has a temper to match his. Except she usually takes it out on Lindy. That was why I ran to stop her from falling in the pool because even though she wouldn’t have drowned with all of you there, it was just something else for her—and maybe even me—to get yelled at about.
I was mortified that I essentially knocked you into the pool in front of the whole team. And my dad. That’s also the second time my awkward ass has bowled you over. I wish it could be different. Sometimes I wish I could be different. Someone cool and confident and sexy. The type of woman you’d date. But I completely understand why you wouldn’t want to risk it.
I just wish we could. You would. I wish you saw the me I want to be—the woman on the inside who’s trying so hard to get out.
But I want you to know how much I appreciate the date and the laughter and the attention, however short-lived it had to be.
Always,
Jayne
I fold the letter—that appears to have been ripped out of a notebook—and thoughtfully put it back into its envelope before closing my eyes. She must have slipped the letter into my backpack last night while I was indisposed or something. Before I took her home. I found it when I got on the plane and was pulling out my headphones. There was a little pink Post-it note that said, “The first letter I wrote you on the day of the cookout. Hope it’s not too sappy. Remember—you asked to read it.”
I did ask and now I’m glad, even though my heart breaks a little for the young woman she was in that moment and what she was feeling when she wrote it.
Insecure.
Invisible.
