I omit the awful other half to that statement. Yeah, I’m scared of what’ll happen to her if I leave. She deserves a break after the deal life’s cut her. But I’m just as scared that no matter how far I go, even if I run to New England, I’ll do the same thing she did. Find something that feels real, watch it all crumble before my eyes, and then get stuck in an endless cycle of pain and slog.
Like I said. I don’t do family gatherings. I refuse to let myself start now.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Declan Effect
Rod
Canoe Battleship seems to have worked its magic, because with three weeks until the big game, the kids are already doing a lot better. We have them running a completed pass drill – they’re in two lines, each passing to a partner, then taking a step further apart, and if they drop the ball, they have to start over from the first point. It makes for both good healthy competition and good healthy teamwork.
‘This is so nice!’ Jordan chirps, buffeted by a swig of her huge chai tumbler. She’s as peppy as always, but I notice some restraint to her smile, a wary look my way before throwing her sunglasses on.
I do the same. ‘Yeah, this looks way better than last week already.’
She just shoots me that same tight smile. Maybe we’re notthat kind of close, but I practically spill the words. ‘Are you okay?’
‘Oh?’ Her practised expression falters. So she’s definitely not okay. What she tells me is otherwise, though. ‘I’m fine,’ she says, voice clipped. ‘Just some stuff with the ranch back home. Mom’s doin’ way too much.’
‘That’s totally not concerning.’
Jordan chokes out a laugh but doesn’t say anything else by way of explanation.
I clear my throat awkwardly. What do I even say? A tacky, painful,We’re still friends, you know, you can talk to me, starts to burble up in my throat, except I swallow it right away. Friends don’t look at one another like I’m drowning and she’s dry land. Even if Bia was right and the best is, in fact, yet to come, that’s unlikely. Jordan will leave in three weeks, and this summer will be a mirage, a memory of ‘did something crazy’ that can be brought up at the bar for the sole purpose of oohing and aahing.
I don’t get the chance to say anything. As the kids are drilling, someone else’s voice cuts into our conversation.
‘Rodney Wilson. Didn’t realize you had help this summer!’
Jordan and I both turn to our right. From across the field, Benny looks so shocked I swear I can see the whites of his eyes from here.
‘Declan Harris.’ I beam, trying not to let it turn into a grimace. ‘Why in the – ’ I glance back at the kids – ‘worldare you in Whittaker?’
‘Come on.’ He gives me the kind of megawatt grin that must have been curated by a cosmetic dentist as he swaggers up to us. ‘You hired a Major League lax player to coach and you thought Iwouldn’tcome see?’
My jaw threatens to go slack. He really knows how to get you where it hurts. I am literally standing right here.
Then he turns his flashbulb smile to Jordan. ‘Rhode Island Reapers, huh?’
Jordan looks him up and down, unimpressed, with a stink eye I’m immediately grateful for. ‘Yeah.’
Declan, for the record, tends to be pretty impressive in any room he enters. He is shredded, six feet tall, and has perfect features, an as-yet-unbroken nose, and basically golden hair. He played college lax at Cal State, and looks the part. However, one thing I silently gloat about having on him is my pro status, something Declan never quite made it to. This is probably why the sting of defeat feels extra potent every time we lose to him in the Cross Camp – because we definitely shouldn’t be losing to him.
‘Maybe that’ll finally help you.’ He claps an unwelcome hand on my shoulder, and then bursts out laughing extraordinarily loudly. ‘Help you lose again! That is funny.’
‘Do you see me laughing?’ I deadpan.
Declan’s amusement morphs into a seething glare in a millisecond. Yep, that’s Declan. Your typical two-faced snake. ‘Get your kids ready to eat it in a few weeks, Rodney. You’ll need to prepare them for the tears.’
‘Oh, forGod’ssake.’ Jordan looks like she’s about to slug the guy, but she just throws her hands up in exasperation instead. ‘They’rekids. Grow a pair. The gate – ’ she points to the exit – ‘is that way. Please.’
Despite her piercing stare, Declan just rips out another synthetic smile and slaps a card in Jordan’s raised hand. ‘My business card. You know, in case you decide you want to be on the right side of this game before it goes down.’
‘You’re on my wrong freaking side right now, chucklehead.’ She holds up the card and tears it in half with a click of her tongue. ‘I’m not goin’ anywhere.’
‘She’s got bite,’ Declan chortles, nodding my way. ‘Watch out.’ Then, to Jordan, ‘You realize Rod here breeds a losing team, don’t you? A team that’ll be down a couple thousand in funding at the end of this whole situation? If they keep losing, this is a sinking ship, and you’re going down with it.’
Jordan rolls her eyes. ‘God. You must have been a theatre kid in high school. Don’t let the gate hit you on the way out, Declan.’
