Holden
She didn’t come.Her girl played tonight, and she didn’t come. Bella was a fucking rockstar, so were all of them, but no matter how much I searched, I never saw her mom. Her friends? For sure. Even Vero, but no Natalie in sight.
She really meant it, didn’t she? That she wanted space, that she didn’t need me. I don’t know what hurts worse—knowing it’s bullshit, or that she thinks I’m going to run just because she’s hurting or scared. Because in the end, that’s what it boils down to: she’s scared.
But too fucking bad, Natalie Bradshaw. I’m all in.
“Hey,” Bella whispers, walking up to me right outside the locker room. I thought they were all gone.
“Hey, kiddo. I didn’t know you were still here. How are you holding up?”
She smiles softly, but it doesn’t reach her eyes. “I’m okay. Um, can we talk?” We haven’t really talked since the fallout onTuesday, only briefly when she told me she wanted me to go back to her house after the water fiasco. I don’t really know where we stand.
“Always.”
She moves her feet, nervously scuffing the tip of her shoe on top of the other. “We never talked after I accused you of knowing about my dad.”
I was right. We never cleared the air. “It’s okay. Your mom told me about it.”
“But it’s not okay. I shut you out instead of talking to you, and um, that’s not what friends do.”
Friends? I’m her friend?
“I mean, I know you’re not a kid, and technically, I’m not supposed to be friends with adults and stuff, but calling you just my coach feels weird. Plus, I don’t know if there’s a word for step-boyfriend, you know?”
I gasp, and she covers her mouth. “You see? I got Mom’s lack of filter. Please ignore that.”
A chuckle escapes me. “It’s fine. I’m honored you count me as a friend. And Bella, you’re fifteen years old. You’re allowed to be consumed and overwhelmed with emotions. It’s normal, and I understand, especially if you know all of that was news to me.”
“I do know.”
“I would never keep something like that from you. None of us knew.”
“Mom told me. Pretty crazy, huh?”
“Tell me about it.” We lean against the wall, crossing our feet at the ankles almost in sync.
“Jinx!” we shout, laughing at the absurdity. Damn, I love this kid.
“When Dad died, we got a book calledThe Invisible String. Have you read it?” she asks, keeping her eyes locked on the wall across from us.
“I can’t say I have.”
“It talks about this theory we’re connected to the people we love by an invisible string that is impossible to break. Mom and I made bracelets to remind us we’ll always be tied to him, no matter where he is. But lately, I’ve been thinking: what if you two share an invisible string? You and mom, or you and us? It would make sense. So many things had to align for you to meet, and it’s almost as if all of them did.”
“What do you mean?”
“You walked into her store that day you were sad.” She raises her hands in defeat. “I overheard her talking to her friends. Sue me.”
I chuckle again. This kid.
“You walked into the one place where the woman who can recognize pain a mile away works, who has made it her entire life’s work trying to fix others.”
She’s not wrong. Natalie takes care of everyone around her, but she’s stubborn as hell when it’s her turn.
“You’re my coach in the sport I decided to try out for the first time. Mom needed some things fixed, you like fixing things. And then, Josh and Cody. Tell me you don’t think all these are coincidences?”
Once you put them all together like that, it definitely doesn’t seem like a coincidence at all. She doesn’t even know about our parents' graves near each other.
