Chapter 22 #2
And yet, even though I saw what he did to Mallory, I don’t feel scared being next to him. I genuinely believe I’m safe. If he was going to hurt me, he would’ve done it already. He would’ve hit me back when I attacked him at school.
He didn’t.
Maybe I’m from an alternate timeline where he’s evil, because the version of him in front of me is going out of his way to be kind.
He hasn’t done anything wrong yet, so is it really fair to hold what I saw against him? Then again, I saw him steal the paper from Mrs. Humphrey’s room. My Myles would never have done that.
I know I’m only going to drive myself up a wall thinking about it, so before I can talk myself out of it, I ask him, “Why did you steal those test answers for Mallory?”
He chokes, hitting his chest with a closed fist. Then he takes another drink to clear his throat.
“Sorry,” I say. “That kind of came out of nowhere.”
“No, it’s fine.” He sets his cup down and clears his throat again. “It’s a fair question.”
“It doesn’t seem like something you’d do. I still can’t believe Mallory is cheating.”
“She uh—” He scratches his head. “She knows my secret.”
“What secret?”
He breaks eye contact. “I’m playing baseball.”
What kind of secret is that? Everyone at the school knows he’s playing baseball. I’d be more shocked if he wasn’t playing. “So?”
His gaze dips and his voice lowers. “I signed my mom’s name on the consent form. She doesn’t know I’m playing this year. She actually told me I wasn’t allowed to.”
“You lied to your mom?” My eyes widen, mouth dropping open.
He nods. “She’ll kill me if she finds out.”
“Yes. She will.”
His mom is so protective. I think it’s the reason he was so scared of everything when he was younger. She never wanted anything bad to happen to him so she kept him in a bubble. Even though she was excessive, I found myself jealous of how much she cared about him. I wish my mom was like that.
“Why aren’t you allowed to play?”
“Because I got hurt last year, and she’s afraid I’ll hurt myself again.”
I remember seeing his arm in a sling, and I hated it. I hated how unhappy he looked around the other players. “Is your arm healed?”
“Yeah. My doctor cleared me, but it didn’t matter.”
“So you just signed her name instead?”
He shrugs. “I have to play.”
“Because of your dad,” I say, understanding him immediately. I know what fuels his love for baseball. It isn’t an unfounded obsession. It’s his only connection to his dad, and I know it isn’t something he’s talked to other people about.
He nods, whispering, “Yeah.”
“Did you tell her why you wanted to play?”
“No. I don’t think it would make a difference. Besides, how am I supposed to tell her how much I miss him when she’s so happy?”
I still can’t wrap my head around his mom getting remarried. I remember being worried about Myles when it happened, but I kept my distance.
She seems happy now, but I know she wants him to be happy too. His mom might be overbearing at times, but I know if he opened up to her, she’d understand. Deep down she just wants what’s best for him.
“He’s your dad. You’re allowed to miss him.”
“I mean, we have a nice house, and I’m going to a private school. I should be grateful, not complaining about what I don’t have.”
“You said it hurt when I pushed you away. Isn’t that what you’re doing to her right now? She loves you, and maybe telling her the truth will bring you closer.”
I can’t tell if he agrees or not because he takes another bite of his food. He chews, leaving a gap in our conversation.
Then he says, “If you could go back and change things, would you have talked to me?”
I think about everything he’s told me today. How much I misunderstood about the situation. How much hurt I caused him because I thought I was making the right decision when I wasn’t. I did something truly awful and he was willing to forgive me.
I let myself picture my high school years with Myles by my side, and my eyes water at what I threw away.
“I would’ve,” I whisper.
He shakes his head. “I’ve already lied to her so much.”
“The longer you lie, the worse it’ll be when she finds out.”
He looks at me with a timid smile. “Since when do you give advice like this?”
I laugh. “What did you expect me to say?”
“I don’t know. I feel like the old you would’ve helped me come up with a plan to finish out the season instead of talking to her.”
He’s probably right. But after having my own mother treat me so badly, his relationship with his mom seems so precious now. Her love shouldn’t be taken for granted. “I grew up.”
“I guess so,” he says. He smiles again, and I find it impossible to look away.
Is it wrong that I like this? The way it feels to talk to him like old times, before we had secrets?
The ease of talking to him scares me. Why am I letting my guard down so much?
“I’ll be right back,” I say, standing up. “I’m going to run to the bathroom.”
“Okay,” he says, taking another bite. “Come back soon or I’ll eat your hash browns.”
“Don’t you dare.” I laugh softly as I leave.
The bathroom is at the back of the diner. My eyes bulge out the second I catch my reflection in the mirror. My hair is horrendous. It’s frizzy and standing on end in every direction. I try my best to wet it, patting it down.
I can’t believe we’ve been talking for hours while I looked like this. What does he think? Did he notice? If he did, why didn’t he say anything?
I’m mortified. There are butterflies in my stomach, and suddenly I feel like I’m a kid again, overthinking what he thinks of me.
I run my hands through my hair until I’ve done all I can. It’s not perfect, but it’ll have to do.
After using the bathroom, I take one more look at myself. I adjust my shirt, smoothing out the wrinkles, and walk out. I weave through the tables back to where we were sitting.
Myles is gone.