“Now, Callie tells me that you gave up soccer for her. To get her freedom. That correct?”
Reed’s bruised jaw tics for a moment or two before he replies, “Soccer was just a means to an end. And yeah, I gave that up. I’d do it again though.”
I have to part my lips at that, along with digging my nails in my palms and curling my toes.
I have to breathe through my mouth as I watch Reed standing up to Conrad like this.
For me.
“Means to an end,” Con murmurs. “Something to do with your father, I presume.”
“Yes.”
“Your father is an asshole.”
Reed throws Conrad a short nod. “Something we agree on.”
Conrad nods too. “But I don’t care about that, you understand?”
“I wouldn’t expect you to.”
“Good. Because I care about my sister.”
Another short nod. “I know.”
“Are you aware,” Conrad says and shifts on his feet, “that she’s going to quit school and get a job. An apartment. She’s also thinking of quitting ballet. So apparently, you’ve ruined her life. You’ve broken her dream, a dream she’s had since she was five.”
“Not yet.”
Conrad wasn’t expecting this answer. I wasn’t either.
“Care to explain that?”
I see Reed’s chest undulating, his nostrils flaring as he shifts on his feet. “I know you hate me. I get that. I respect that. I respect how protective you are of your siblings. How you’ve always been protective of them. I’d watch you, you know. Back then. Back when I was a kid. I’d watch how you always walked a step behind them. How you’d always keep an eye on them when you were around town. How you sometimes rode the bus with them to drop them off at school. I watched you. And then you became my coach and I saw how protective you were of your players. Of the game. The integrity of the game, of the players. I both liked and hated that about you. Especially when itinterfered with my agenda. When I wanted to do things my way. When I wanted to win. Not the game. I mean, yeah the game but it was more about sticking it to my asshole father than anything else.
“So if you want to take a swing at me right now, break my bones, rearrange my face for being selfish and reckless and exactly what you always thought I was, then you’re welcome to it. But I want you to know one thing. I want you to know that I’m going to make sure her dreams are safe. I broke her heart once. But I’m not going to break her dreams too. I haven’t done much in life for other people. I’ve always been too wrapped up in my own shit. Besides, the world can go to hell, I don’t care. It’s full of crap anyway. But you and I, we can both agree on one thing at least: Your sister is one good thing in this world and I screwed her over. But I’m not going to do that anymore. I’m not going to fuck her up more than I already have.”
When I go to draw a breath, I taste salt on my lips.
I taste water. My tears. I taste my broken heart.
It doesn’t taste broken though, not really. A broken heart tastes sour and bitter. This tastes sweet, like sugar.
Like cupcakes.
Like him.
And I would’ve analyzed it more, what this means, how my broken heart can change in taste, but the guy who’s responsible for all of this isn’t done yet.
He has more declarations to make. He has more ways to make me ache for him.
“And she’s not quitting school. Not on my watch.”
Chapter Eighteen
It’s Monday and I’m at St. Mary’s.
It’s notthatMonday though.
