“Kid,” I protest.
“It’s a bad habit,” he says. “But the sentiment stands.”
I hug him back, feeling lighter than I did a moment ago. “I love you too.”
“Now go clear your head. When you get back, I’m sure you’ll know exactly what to do.”
“Okay.”
It’s only a little awkward when Ian and I break apart, but there’s a warmth in his eyes that makes me feel even lighter, andfor maybe the first time, I feel like there’s a chance I’m not the burden to him that I’ve always believed myself to be. Maybe I can finally let myself lean on him, let myself believe I deserve to. If nothing else, I can take that away from all this.
I leave Ian at the apartment and take the elevator down to the lobby, my hands in the pockets of my jacket as I step out onto the sidewalk. It’s chilly today—cool enough that I feel my cheeks prickling with the cold—but I find I enjoy the crisp air, letting it clear my head, just like I wanted.
I know that there’s a good chance I’ll have to be the one to reach out to Jack if I want to reconcile this thing between us, and there’s a part of me that’s terrified he’ll realize that this isn’t worth the trouble, thatI’mnot worth the trouble. But for the first time, I feel the incredible urge to fight for it anyway. It’s freeing, realizing that. Realizing that there might be something in my life that I actually think I deserve.
And as if the universe has decided to remind me of where I stand, I feel my phone buzzing in my pocket as soon as I step up to the crosswalk button, fishing it out and frowning when I see my dad’s name there. I watch it ring for several seconds, feeling anger bubbling higher and higher in my chest as I think about all the things he likely wants to say to me. All the things he thinks Ideserve.
Maybe that’s the reason I swipe to answer, bringing the phone to my ear.
“It’s about time you picked up,” he says. Practically spits it, really. “Who the hell do you think you are ignoring my calls? First you go and ruin my entire life, and then you think you can just—”
“Stop,” I say forcefully.
“Excuse me?”
“Just…stop.” I take a deep breath, letting it out slowly. “Stop calling me. Stop texting me. I don’t want to hear from you ever again.”
“You think you can just—”
“Yes,” I snap. “I can. I’m going to hang up now, and then I’m going to block this number. If you ever contact me again, foranyreason—I’m going to file a restraining order. Do you understand? I think the mile-long list of calls and texts you’ve sent in the last few months will be more than enough grounds to do so.”
“Why, you little bi—”
“I’m hanging up,” I say again. “But I want you to know that you didn’t win. You don’t know anything about me, and you don’t deserve to. You’re just a sad, bitter old man who has alienated any family he has left. That’s whatyoudeserve, and I won’t be a part of it anymore.”
I hang up with shaking fingers, my heart hammering in my chest as my breath saws out of me, while I do exactly what I said and block my dad’s number. I feel a weight lifted from my shoulders with the finality of it all. I know there’s a good chance he will try to contact me some other way—it’s just how he is—but I feel the truth in my own words when I told him I’ll take action if he does. I finally feelfreeof him.
And maybe that’s whatIdeserve. Maybe I can finally believe that.
I’m smiling when I step off the curb, already pulling out my phone to call Jack, because suddenly it feels like Ineedto talk to him, to see him, hopefully. I’m scrolling through my calls to find his name, so engrossed in what I’m doing and feeling that I barely even hear the ringing sound and the shouts that follow after it.
I don’t even notice the bike coming until it hits me.
Thirty
Jack
Coach looks thoughtful as Irelay everything I’ve learned in the last twenty-four hours, never interrupting me as I tell him about what the doctor said: about the fracture, the possibility of making things worse—all of it. I tell him about everything that’s been on my mind, even going so far as to clue him in on my feelings for what we should do moving forward. He nods when I’m finished, leaning back into his chair and looking at me with concern in his eyes.
“That’s…an unfortunate development, son,” he says finally.
I nod back at him. “I know.”
“And you’re sure this is what you want?”
I consider that, trying to gather my courage for the decision I’ve come to. I finally nod back at him, straightening a little in my chair. “It is.”
“Well, I can’t stop you,” Coach says. “Truth be told, I don’t really want to.”
