“We could send you both to couples therapy?”
“I think that’s too soon, mom,” I replied as I rolled my eyes.
“Quinn is extending the invitation to Ava,” Mom said as she stood.
“What invitation?” I asked in alarm. “Quinn is not exactlyfriendlytoward her.”
“She needs to talk to someone about this, a professional. We’re sending you to one, too.” Mom poured me a glass of water from the fridge. “Don’t bullshit me, you need to talk about this. Either together or separately, I don’t mind, but it is happening.”
“I’m not going,” I told her adamantly. “But I think it’s good if Ava does, thank you.”
“Your father can speak to you about it.”
I wisely said nothing. My mom was sweet and kind, but stubborn as an ox when she wanted something. I already knew Dad would agree with me, and then I would have an appointment anyway. Sable Santo was very protective of her children. Whether I went or not was a battle for another day.
“Should we check on them?” I said instead.
“No, your hand’s already a mess, you don’t need to hit anything else,” Mom scolded. “You will eat.”
“I’m not hungry.”
Dark blue eyes met mine. “You’ll eat the sandwich I made for you, and then you will complain to me that you shouldn’t havehad so many carbs the week of the Alabama game.” She tossed her black hair over her shoulder. “You will then proceed to tease me that I didn’t make the sandwich and that cook did, and you will then heckle me until I confess.”
I felt myself smile despite the horrible day. “Is that right?” I asked her.
“Yes, that, my dear boy, is right.” Her eyes twinkled as she took a plate out of the fridge, placing it down beside me and then putting a small dish of pasta salad beside it. I saw her bite her cheek thoughtfully as my fork dug into the pasta. “Ididmake that.”
My fork froze.
Mom looked at me and then the dish. “Yeah, don’t eat it. It’s horrible.” She patted my shoulder as she took it off me. “Eat your sandwich.”
Later, when Gray and my dad both looked like they’d gone ten rounds in the boxing ring, I had the same conversation with Dad about a therapist.
I was happy to let him fight that battle for me with my mom. Not tonight, though. We really weren’t masochists.
My phone was beside me, a heavy presence in the room, and giving up the pretense of ignoring it, I switched it on. I had several messages from Quinn, and I felt guilty all over again. I had two from Jamie, which surprised me, but he came through for me today. I had some other bullshit, but nothing from Ava.
Had such a short time away from me already made her hate me?
Me:Are you okay?
I waited. No reply.
Gray came into the room, his eyes dark with concern.
“You okay?” he asked as he lay down beside me.
“Yeah.” I hesitated. “No? I don’t know.”
“Shit sucks,” he said as we both stared at the ceiling.
“Yes, it does.”
“She’ll come around.” He sounded confident. “Or you will. You’ll realize you’re being a dick.”
Turning my head, I looked at my brother. “Wow.”
“You know what I mean, you’re spiting your nose for your face.” He frowned. “Or whatever they say.”
