He isn’t wearing a shirt. I don’t know why I’m hung up on that but there he is, standing in the kitchen barefoot, wearing gray sweatpants without a shirt on.
I somehow manage to step farther into the room. He’s at the stove, spatula in hand and he’s making … I peer around him … pancakes. Dominique is making pancakes. What twilight zone did I just walk out of?
“You’re up,” he says without turning around.
I clear my throat. “Yeah.”
“Have a seat. I’m almost done.”
I nod, not that he sees it, and take a seat at the kitchen island, watching the muscles in his back flex as he moves around the kitchen, grabbing syrup and peanut butter before plating the pancakes and setting everything down in front of me.
“You hungry?”
I shake my head.
“When’s the last time you ate?”
I think about it, but I don’t really remember. “How long has it been since …” I can’t say it, but he knows what I mean and curses.
“You need to eat. I brought food to your room. Why didn’t you eat any of it?”
“I’m not hungry.”
“I don’t care.” He tosses two pancakes onto a new plate, spreads peanut butter on both and then drizzles them with syrup before sliding it across the counter to me. “Eat.”
I stare down at the food. My stomach twists into a knot and my eyes fill with moisture.
“Dammit.” He walks around the counter until he’s right beside me. “You’re wasting away. You need to eat something. Just a few bites, okay?”
I nod, forcing back the tears. I pick up the fork and knife and cut into the pancakes.
Dominique grabs his own plate and fills it with bacon, eggs, and a single piece of toast. But no pancakes. I frown down at my plate. “Why aren’t you having any pancakes?”
“Not on my meal plan.”
“Then why did you make pancakes if you knew you weren’t going to eat any?”
He grunts. “You order pancakes every time we go to Sun Valley Station. Figured if I was going to get you to eat something, this was my best bet. You mentioned before that pancakes were your favorite food group.”
“You remembered that?”
He nods.
I smile at that. Pancakes are my favorite food group. Mom used to make them on Sundays. Always with peanut butter and syrup, how her mom used to make them when she was growing up.
A fresh wave of grief sweeps over me and I blink back the tears, eyes locked on my plate.
Dominique either doesn’t notice or chooses not to mention it, which I’m grateful for. “I have practice today. I missed earlier this week, which was fine. Coach wanted me to take it easy because of my shoulder anyway, but we have a game tomorrow and I have to show up. Will you—”
“I’ll be fine.”
He frowns. “That’s not what I was going to ask.”
Oh. “What were you going to ask?”
He looks at me, looks at my plate, then waits. I sigh and take a bite.
He grunts. “I was going to ask if you’d come to campus with me. Aaron had to fly out to Florida to take care of a few things and I don’t like the idea of leaving you here alone.”
“I—”
He cuts me off. “There’s a lounge area just off the locker rooms where you can hang out. Maybe catch up on homework or watch some brainless T.V. on the television inside. We usually watch game tapes but I think Coach has it hooked up to cable.”
I worry my lower lip. “I’d rather stay here.”
His muscles flex and he takes a bite of his food, chewing while he thinks. “Practice is less than two hours. I can leave early if I need to. You won’t have to be there long.”
I shake my head. “I don’t want to go. I never should have gotten up. I’ll just go back to the room and—”
“Kasey, I’m not leaving you here alone. Right now isn’t the time for you to be difficult. Change your clothes if you want.”
I look down at myself. I’m still wearing his shirt. It’s been several days. Almost a week and I’m still in the same shirt. The same pair of underwear. Oh God. I probably smell.
“If it’s quick, you have time for a shower.”
I swallow hard and nod. “Fine.”
“Really?”
“Yeah. But I want a shower first.”
He exhales a harsh breath. “Okay. Good. Eat some more first. We’ll leave in an hour.”
I take another bite, barely tasting it, but it seems to make him happy. My stomach growls, so I must be hungry. I just don’t feel hungry. I’m numb. Empty.
I force myself to eat one whole pancake before pushing my plate aside. “I need to go back to my place. I don’t have any clothes or—“
“Your uh, big sister, what’s her name?”
“Quinn.”
“Right. She packed up some of your things. Clothes. Toiletries. They’re in the bag on the bathroom counter. If you’re missing anything we can stop by and grab it on the way.”
Oh. That was nice. “Okay. I’ll go see what I’ve got.” I hesitate. “After practice, are you taking me home?”
Some emotion flashes in his eyes, too fast for me to catch before he shakes his head. “No. You’re going to stay here.” Something like relief settles in me, but that’s strange. Why would I be relieved about staying here? I don’t like Dominique. We were literally fighting just a few days ago.
“For how long?”
He shrugs and goes back to his plate. “Until I decide you’re okay.”
My mouth tightens, and I consider arguing before my shoulders sag and I turn away. “Fine.” I head for the bathroom to shower. I’ll fight with him another day.
Dominique parks the Escalade near the athletic building, and before I even unbuckle, he has my door open and is helping me out of the car.
Why is he being so nice? Nice and Dominique Price don’t go together. I mean, I know my mom just… the word stalls in my brain and I take a moment to breathe through it. Whatever the reason, I don’t want him to be nice to me. I need things to be normal. I don’t want his or anyone else’s pity.
I tug my hand out of his as soon as I’m out of the car. He grabs a gym bag from the back and then we’re cutting across the parking lot to the main doors. Inside, I ignore the students in the halls and follow Dominique to the locker room. He opens the door and loud voices can be heard. Blocking my sight, he takes me down a row of lockers before stopping at a closed door. He pushes it open and checks inside before backing up and holding it open for me.
“Yo, Price!” someone calls.
“Give me a minute,” he shouts back. To me he says, “You can hang out here. No one will bother you.”
We step into a medium-sized room. There are a few sofas scattered around the room and a large flat screen T.V. mounted on one of the walls. “There’s a bathroom through that door.” He points to the left. “And I’ll have Coach hang on to my phone. If you need anything, call me. I’ll be done in an hour and a half. Two, tops.”
I nod and take a seat on the nearest sofa.
“You’re not going to wander off, right?”
“I’ll be here.”
He stares at me as if gauging my intent. “Good. If any of the guys come in here, tell them to get the fuck out. Got it?”
“Yep.”
He closes the door behind him and I take a steadying breath. I find a remote between the cushions and flick on the T.V., stopping on a Disney movie. I don’t have it in me to watch anything heavier than that. My phone rings. Aaron’s name flashes across the screen. Shit. I haven’t even talked to my brother yet. I should have. But I haven’t.
I’m not sure what to say to him, and I’m almost certain he hasn’t known what to say to me, but he’s in Florida handling things I know I’m not in the right headspace to handle, so I need to answer.
I hit accept and bring the phone to my ear. “Hey.”
He’s quiet on the other end before I hear him release a breath. “Hey.”
That one word, hearing his voice, has emotions clogging my throat. “You good?” I ask.
He forces a laugh. “I should be asking you that.”
Yeah. Maybe. “I’m okay.”
Another heavy breath. “That’s good. Dom’s not being an asshole is he?”
A small laugh. “No. He’s being nice, which is … weird. I kinda wish he’d be an asshole.”
I curl my legs beneath me and sink into the sofa. “Are you calling because…” I swallow hard. “Did you need…” I don’t know how to get the words out.
“Yeah. Sorry. I wanted to ask if you were okay with Mom being cremated. It’s a lot easier to get her back if we do but if you don’t want that—“
“It’s fine,” I choke on the words.
“Are you sure?”
“MmHmm.” My heart squeezes in my chest. We weren’t very religious, but I know Mom is—was—Catholic. She’d have wanted a proper burial, but I don’t think either Aaron or I can go through with one. This, this is better. “Maybe we can sprinkle her ashes in the ocean or something. Mom might have liked that.”
“You think so?” His voice is thick.
I have to blink back my tears before I can answer. “Yeah. I think she would. Remember when we were kids and we went to Myrtle Bay? You got stung by a jellyfish and freaked out trying to pee on your own leg.”
He groans, but manages a laugh too. “You promised never to bring it up again.”
I snicker. “I know, but we should go there. We used to go every summer growing up. Mom loved that place.”
“Yeah, she did, didn’t she?”
I sit still, holding the phone tight as we both listen to the other breathe. “I miss her,” I tell him, hating how my voice quivers.
“I miss her, too.”
This is hard. My eyes fill with tears again, and no matter how hard I fight to hold them in, they still spill down my face. “Will you be home soon?” I ask, needing to say something to fill the silence.
He coughs, clears his throat. “Yeah. I’ll be back in a few days. We can figure out what to do after that. There’s no rush, okay. We can take however long we want.”
I bob my head up and down. “Okay.”
“I gotta go, but I’ll try and check in later. You’ll be okay with Dominique?”
I swallow past a lump. “Yeah. I’ll be okay.”
“I love you, sis.”
“Love you, too.” Aaron hangs up and I just sit there, unmoving. I don’t know for how long or what time it is when all of a sudden the door opens and Deacon steps in the room.
I look up at him, tears still running down my face and he drops down in front of me. “Hey, are you okay? Are you hurt?” He checks me over as I sit there, frozen in place.
“Kasey.” He cups the sides of my face. “What’s wrong? Why are you crying.”
I look down at my phone. It’s still in my hand, fingers gripping it tightly. Deacon sees it and gently pries it from my fingers, setting it beside me. “You’re kinda freaking me out here,” he says. “I saw you come in with Dominique, figured I’d check in on you. I can’t believe he left you in here like this.”
I shake my head. “He didn’t. I—” Come on Kasey, pull it together. “I’m sorry.” I blink. “I was just talking to my brother. I…”
His gold-colored eyes stare into me, seeing more than he should. I want to curl into a ball and hide. Turn off the lights and just pretend today isn’t here. “Come on.” He pulls me to my feet.
“Where are we going?”
“You need chocolate. Or cake. Or both. We’re going to get some of that.”
I side-eye him as he steers me out of the room. “Why do I need chocolate? And don’t you have practice?”
He shrugs, his hand on my lower back as he leads me outside. “I have sisters. When they cry, I give them chocolate. It’s the one thing I never get wrong and it works every time, so that’s what we’re going to do. Come one, there’s a vending machine just down the hallway.”
I nod but… “What about practice?”
“Dominique is running plays today, so it’s fine. No one will miss me.”
“Oh. Alright then.” We find the vending machine and he shoves a few dollar bills in getting a Reeses, Snickers, Hershey bar, Milky Way, and a Fast Break. Arms full, we find a few lounge chairs to sit in and he drops the candy in my lap.
When I don’t move to open any, he grabs one of the bars, a Snickers, and peels the wrapper back before handing it to me. “Try it. I swear it works.”
I give him a disbelieving look, but take a bite anyway, letting the chocolate melt on my tongue. I chew and swallow before taking another bite, and the next thing I know, the Snickers is gone and I’m moving onto the Peanut Butter Cups.
Three candy bars in and I feel more like myself. I’ve wiped the tears from my face, and Deacon catches me up on some of what I’ve missed in our English class. Twenty minutes goes by, and for the first time in nearly a week I feel like I can breathe. This distraction, it’s exactly what I need.
I look down at the last candy bar in my lap and know I’ll regret it later, but I peel back the wrapper and take a bite anyway. I moan. Fast Breaks are my favorite, so I saved the best for last.
“You cannot make sounds like that,” Deacon says, a small smile on his face.
I roll my eyes. “You’d moan if you had this in your mouth.”
He chokes, but covers it with a cough. “You can’t say things like that to me either.”
I grin. “Want a bite?” I ask him, but a commotion down the hallway catches my attention and I turn. “Shit,” I whisper. Dominique is storming toward us, shirt drenched in sweat and a pissed-off expression on his face.
He’s already yelling before he’s even next to me. “What the hell were you thinking?” he shouts, coming to a stop beside us. “Do you have any idea how worried I was when I opened the door and you weren’t there? Fuck.” He turns around, hands on his waist and takes a few steps away before turning back to me. “You said you’d stay put. Why did you—” It’s then that he notices Deacon. His eyes darken and I jump to my feet.
“Look, I’m sorry. I should have left a note or something.”
He scoffs. “Right. A note would have helped.”
My anger spikes. I’m not a child. I don’t need to be coddled and looked after. “You know what, fine. I’m not sorry.” I turn to Deacon. “Thanks for the chocolate and for helping with,” I wave to my face, “all of this. It was nice to feel like me for a little bit.”
He stands. “Anytime you need a good laugh and some chocolate, give me a call. You don’t have to tell me your personal shit, but if you wanna hang, I’m around.”
“Thanks. I appreciate that.”
He pulls me in for a hug, releasing me just as quickly when Dominique makes a sound in the back of his throat, low and threatening. “I’ll catch you later, beautiful,” Deacon calls over his shoulder, and then it’s just Dom and I.
I sigh and pick up the candy wrappers that fell when I stood up. I shove them in the trash bin and wait for Dominique to yell at me some more, but he doesn’t. Instead, he has this pensive look on his face and he refuses to look at me. Somehow, it’s worse than the yelling.
When we get outside he opens the door for me, closing it once I’m safe inside the Escalade. I put on my seat belt as he gets inside and I fiddle with the music knob as he pulls out of the parking lot. Five minutes into the drive and he still hasn’t said anything.
I hate it.
“Look, I’m sorry. Okay? Can you stop giving me the silent treatment already?”
“I’m not giving you the silent treatment.”
I huff. “Then why are you so silent?”
He glares at me. “Do you all of a sudden want to talk? You’ve barely said a word in five fucking days, but I leave you alone for an hour and suddenly you’re chatting with Deacon. My bad. Figured I must be the one guy you refuse to talk to.”
I lean my head against the window, the cool glass chilling my skin. “I’m not refusing to talk to you,” I tell him.
He grunts. “But you’d rather talk to Deacon?”
“No. I…” I try to put my thoughts into words, but it all sounds so stupid. “Deacon isn’t treating me differently.”
Dominique scowls. “What the hell does that mean?”
“You’re being nice. Like really nice. You check on me all the time. You made me pancakes. You open my door for me.”
“So what, I’m supposed to be a dick even though your mom just died?”
My breath hitches and Dominique mutters a curse. “I didn’t mean—”
“That,” I yell at him. “That, right there. You keep doing things like that. You’re apologizing to me when before, you never would have said ‘I’m sorry.’ That isn’t you. That’s not us. Not how we communicate.”
“You’re not making any sense.”
“I don’t want you to treat me any different. I need things to go back to how they were. The bickering. You being an insensitive jerk.”
“I’m not insensitive.”
“Yeah, you are. You kissed me when we were in high school and pretended like it never happened. You told me I was shallow. That I couldn’t keep a guy’s attention. And then gave me the best orgasm of my life, and after, pretended like it never happened. You humiliated me at the Kappa Mu party, made me get out of the pool, basically said I looked like a slut and when I stripped naked in front of you, you left, and big surprise, you pretend it never happened. I’m sorry, how is none of that insensitive? Did you actually consider my feelings even once before doing any of those things?”
He’s quiet.
“No. You didn’t. And it’s fine.”
He bangs his head back on the headrest. “It’s not fine.”
“Yes, it is. It’s fine because it’s you. It’s what I expect. You’re a jerk to me. I’m a bitch to you. But this, whatever this version of you is that’s nice to me, I can’t deal with it right now. I need you to be the same guy you were a week ago. Don’t coddle me. I’m not a piece of glass. I won’t break.”
We pull into his driveway and he turns off the car, neither of us getting out. “You want me to be a jerk.”
“Yes.”
“Fine. Your mom died almost a week ago, and you’re being a baby. You’ve been hiding in your room for too fucking long and you’re wasting away. You’ve lost weight. You look like shit. And your brother has enough on his plate that he has to deal with, but instead of handling what he needs to, he’s calling me five times a day to check on you when he shouldn’t have to. Pull yourself together, figure out what you need to do to grieve, and get on with it.”
I suck in a shuddering breath and squeeze my hands into fists on my lap.
“Shit. I went too far.”
I press my lips together, blinking back the tears and shaking my head. “I’m fine.” I tell him, but it’s a lie. There’s this hole inside of me and his words, hearing about Aaron, it punches the hole wide open. I’m so fucking selfish. My brother shouldn’t have to check in on me.
I fight to keep it together. I told Dom to be mean. He did what I asked, so why does it hurt?
He opens his door and the next thing I know he’s right beside me, reaching over my lap to unbuckle me. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean any of it. I thought … I thought this is what you wanted. I thought it would help.”
Like a dam breaking, my tears fall down my cheeks.
“Fuck.”
I was falling apart. Again. I had an hour where I kept it together and now I was crumbling.
Dom slides his arms beneath me and carries me out of the car. Cradled in his arms, he manages to get us inside and into the living room. My arms are wrapped around his neck, as though holding onto him will somehow hold me together.
He sits on the sofa, still cradling me in his arms. It’s intimate and comforting and even knowing I’ll hate myself for it tomorrow, I cling to him and cry into his chest.
I feel like pieces of me are breaking one by one, the pain growing more and more with each breath until it’s too much. I want to scream, but nothing can get out past the tears. My shoulders shake and I wheeze, unable to catch my breath. Why does it hurt so fucking much.
“Kasey, please.” He presses his lips to my temple. “You’re killing me here, baby girl. What can I do?”
