“Mira . . . she has a way of making me feel like I can’t breathe,” he says a few moments later, scratching the back of his neck.
It makes perfect sense.
“That sounds scary,” I say, and Henry laughs under his breath.
“Yeah. It is, but she also has a way of being the only person who can make me feel like I’m breathing as well. I’m not sure how that’s supposed to help you figure out what’s going on, because I don’t even know what’s going on.”
Is he being serious right now? He doesn’t know what’s going on?
Oh my god, I’m actually a little embarrassed to be relatedto him if he can’t connect these simple dots. I’m a teenager, and even I understand. I thought Henry was supposed to be smart?
Maybe I’ll get him some romance books to add to his book collection instead of the mysteries and thrillers he likes to read.
“You don’t know what’s going on?”
“Are you surprised?” he asks, lifting his shoulders in a shrug.
“You’re in love with her,” I say, and it’s impossible not to laugh at the way his jaw drops. Maybe I give guys too much credit. They’re more like brainless jellyfish floating through the ocean. “God, you are stupid.”
“I’m not in love with her,” Henry denies, shaking his head. “We’re supposed to be talking about Bailey, not me.”
It’s a lot easier to talk about someone else’s relationship than the current state of my love life. I might be giving Bailey too much credit by wondering if he’s thinking about the kiss.
“I don’t know anything else, so we might as well talk about you and Mirabelle.” I hug the pillow to my chest as Henry grimaces, moving his ice pack.
“I love you, but we’re not talking about my relationship with Mirabelle.”
“You also love her.” I’m holding back a laugh when he glances at the front door as if he can will Mirabelle to walk back through it and save him.
Maybe I shouldn’t wait for the perfect time to talk to Bailey. I can take matters into my own hands and hopefully find out if we’re meant to be more than friends.
CHAPTER TWENTY
Bailey
PAST
I keep goingto therapy because I don’t have a choice. Every time, she asks if today is the day I’m ready to talk. I usually plop onto the sofa and stare back at her as she watches me, still saying nothing.
I’m not sure how therapy works, but I’m sure it doesn’t normally go like this.
The further I sink into myself, the more everyone else in my family seems to thrive. It only reaffirms my dark thoughts—my family doesn’t need me here. I’m not even sure they want me here.Why would they?
Hunter is the definition of a rising star, and there are coaches coming from all over the country to watch him play every Friday. I’m happy for him, even if I’m jealous at the same time of how easy everything is for him. JJ is getting playing time as a freshman at Beaumont and seems to be thriving. Mirabelle made up with Mom and Dad after bringing Hunter and me home, so now they make one big happy family.
The brothers carrying on the family legacy of becoming football stars, the Olympian, and their doting parents.
Everyone except me.
Kaitlyn has been busy with the cheer squad, spending more time practicing their routines for postseason play, so I’ve barely seen her. I’ve been dying to talk to her about the kiss. It’s all I think about most days. Just kidding—I think about it all the time.
I know I’m a fucking wreck, but she’s the only one who makes me feel like I have a fighting chance. I want to ask her on a date. She’s always been the one paying attention, even when my silence is deafening. Kait’s my best friend, and I thought that was enough for me, but now it’s not. I want more with her.
Except, I have no idea how to go about any of this.
I know Hunter’s mad at me for refusing to tell him what’s going on, but I feel better going to him about what he thinks I should do rather than Carter. It just makes more sense since Hunter’s one of Kaitlyn’s best friends too. I feel bad about icing him out, but he’s thriving.
I knock on the door, relieved when Hunter calls back, letting me know I can come in. His eyes widen when he glances over his shoulder, and he pauses his video game. “Are you lost?” he asks, a coldness to his voice I’ve never had directed toward me.
