As if he needs more of that.
I settle back in my seat outside our suite, watching Remi snap the ball to West who then launches the ball down the field. The crowd goes wild when it’s caught, and I don’t think I’ve ever been more distracted watching him play.
Scar settles in beside me, and I know she feels it—my frustration, the growing sense of hopelessness. We take two steps forward, and I swear we’re taking ten backward the next day.
“You okay?” Scar whispers, keeping her voice low so our friends and family don’t hear.
I nod. “Mostly.”
She squeezes my hand then holds it in hers. “I shouldn’t have brought up the Mom-thing the other day. You guys have enough going on right now. I—”
“You did the right thing,” I cut in, assuring her that none of this is her fault. “Mom made you the middleman. That’s not on you.”
She sighs then slumps against me, dropping her head to my shoulder. “Well, I took care of it. I reached out to one of the state-funded facilities and she’s already squared away. If she’s serious about getting sober, where she’s been admitted won’t matter. It’s up to her to show us if she actually means it this time.”
“Agreed.” Despite that being my response, I have zero hope that will ever happen.
I kiss the top of Scar’s hair, and it’s like old times. Just me and her getting through the hard shit our mother dumps on top of us.
I’m a bit more clearheaded now that I’ve got at leastonething settled, and I look around me. At the love and support West and I have here. No, things haven’t been easy, but this has been the best part.
Dad and Hannah came out to watch today, and Hunter too. He’s still notably keeping his distance from our father, but he had the day off from training and decided to show up.
Joss is here, of course, but so are Ricky, Dez, and Jules.
And then, there’s Tiffany.
She’s gone from being from at leastpretendingto be with us, to total abandonment, choosing instead to sit with the other wives. I don’t care one way or another, but due to the clear optics, I can already see the headlines that’ll come of this.
A whispered “I hate that bitch,” comes from my right, and I’m already laughing as I snap a look toward Joss.
“You’re not the only one,” Scar mumbles from my left, and it seems all three of us share the same opinion.
“Look at her. She’s just so fucking…”
“Smug?” I say, thinking that’s the word Joss is looking for.
“That fits.” She shrugs, then rolls her eyes back to the field.
“Sterling definitely deserves better,” Scar says.
“Yeah, but he has towantbetter. And until he decides to leave that one alone, we have to just grin and bear it.”
Joss’s tone is dark, and I like this side of her. Back in the day, she was quiet and innocent, the Golden boys’ closest friend, their voice of reason, and their moral compass. But as an adult, she’s found her voice. I like to think her confidence came from Dane helping her see her worth, but whatever the case, she’s found it and she’s not a woman you want to get fired up.
My thought is interrupted by a buzz in my pocket. Joss and Scar carry on the conversation without me as I open an email from the bank. The headline tells me all I need to know.
Your loan request has been approved.
I take a deep breath and a sense of relief hits. The feeling is unexpected, but it speaks to how badly I needed this.
For myself.
For the sake of my marriage.
After West’smy moneycomment the other night, I hardly slept. I tossed and turned, thinking about how dependent I am on him. Even the one thing I have for me was funded by him.
I hated the way it felt, knowing I couldn’t stand on my own two feet even if I wanted to.
