“Don’t ask,” Trystan says under his breath.
“He has a history with one of the players,” Brock explains. “They used to be friends and now they’re not.”
“It’s more complicated than that,” Braden says to me.
“Did you get in a fight with the guy?” I ask.
Braden glances at his dad. “I don’t want to get into it.”
A waiter brings our meals. The table gets quiet as we eat, Braden and Trystan both scarfing down their food.
“This isn’t a race, boys,” Brock says, seeming annoyed.
“I need to get home,” Braden says.
“And I need to get to the gym,” Trystan adds.
“We’re not leaving until everyone has finished their meals.”
Looking up from my plate, which I’ve barely touched, I see my cousins giving me the death stare. They want to leave, and I’m holding them back. Tough shit. I’m not hurrying because of them. This is the first real meal I’ve had since my mom died. And hurrying to finish it will just land me back in my room. Alone. I can’t even call Axl because he’s out with Senna.
“Take your time,” Brock says, patting my arm.
We continue to eat, the boys slowing down now that they know it’ll be a while.
“Brock,” a woman says, coming up to the table. She’s super skinny with a leathery tan, wearing a short, silky white dress and the highest heels I’ve ever seen.
He looks up and smiles. “Whitney.” He stands up, and they hug. “Good to see you. How have you been?”
Her bright red lips lift into a smile. “Busy. You know how it is, right before school. So much to do to get the kids ready.”
“I do.” He points to Braden and Trystan. “Although these two aren’t too willing to let their dad help out anymore.”
She laughs in a really high pitch. “If only my girls were that way. They’re still so dependent on me. It’s a mother-daughter thing, I suppose. Girls need their moms.”
I take a long, deep breath, trying to stop the flood of emotion caused by her words.Girls need their moms. And mine’s gone. Every day I tell myself I can go on without her, and I can. I just don’t want to. I’m not ready to.
Quickly standing up, I toss my napkin on the table. “Excuse me, I need to use the restroom.”
“Rumor?” Brock says as I race off.
I go to the bathroom and into a stall. Squeezing my eyes shut, I count to ten and try to think of something else. Anything that doesn’t remind me of my mom. But everything reminds me of her.
Moving to California was supposed to get me away from the memories. As much as I dreaded moving here, part of me was relieved to know I wouldn’t be surrounded by constant reminders of her. Up until now, I was doing okay. After the funeral, there was so much going on and so much to do before I moved here that it distracted me from the pain. But it all came back with that woman’s words.Girls need their moms.
Someone comes into the bathroom, her heels clicking on the floor. She stops right in front of my stall.
“Rumor?” the woman says. She sounds like the woman who was at the table.
“I’m using this one,” I tell her, clearing my throat.
“Honey, I’m sorry,” she says. “I didn’t know.”
What the hell? Brock told her? And sent her in here? I don’t even know this woman.
“Rumor, are you okay?”
“I’m fine.” I wipe the tears from my face. “You can go. I’ll be out in a minute.”
