Chapter 32
Andy
The team's been off since Will left, like a kid learning to ride their bike, wobbly and unbalanced.
I know Ben feels it, too, with the way his eyes slide around the court, looking for his brother before he finally settles on me.
He gives me that smirk—his only tell. The ball comes at me like a bullet and I swipe it out of the air.
The one advantage of Will not being here: I can play harder, move faster.
Grant even slapped me on the back in the first half.
Maybe it isn’t Will’s absence that is upping my game, though. Maybe it’s the tall blonde in the stands holding the hand of a tiny eleven year old, my number boldly plastered on both their jerseys.
They jump up as soon as the ball is in my vicinity. I can hear Carm’s voice screaming, “C’mon sixteen!” and I let myself grin, let myself show the others that that little girl means something to me. Something I wouldn’t have dared to do just a couple weeks ago.
In fact, I don’t think she’s even been to a game this season.
Normally, I’ll get her and mom one ticket a season and hope that Mom’s working.
It’s not that I’m embarrassed of them—I’m embarrassed of me.
Who I become the moment I set foot on campus.
The unserious play boy without a care in the world, the complete opposite of how I was raised.
I sink a basket, turning toward where they're seated in the stands and let that warm feeling flow through me as I watch the two jump and scream, both of them throwing the pom poms I’m sure Sloane bought at concessions in the air.
I’m glad they’re here. It’s not something I’m used to if, I’m being honest, having two people who care about me cheer me on.
I sort of get it now—why Ben and Grant are always excited to see their girls front and center, the sappy gestures they make toward them mid game. I find myself wanting to do it, too.
The buzzer sounds, signaling the end of the fourth quarter.
I was too swept up in the sight of my girls to notice I just landed the final basket of the night, the winning basket.
I feel Grant’s giant chest pummel me in a congratulatory hug as Ben swings his arm around me, ruffling my hair.
The rest of the guys are celebrating our win, too, our ticket to playoffs and still I’m in this daze.
The stands are abuzz, the excitement vibrating through them as stomping fills the bleacher lined court, but all I see is her.
She’s still in the sea of movement, her dark ocean eyes locked with mine and for a second things feel perfect, a moment frozen in time. Just the upward tick of the corner of her mouth, the way her bubblegum pink tongue licks her bottom lip, letting me know she’s mine.
With a blink it’s over. The tidal wave of sound crashes into me as I feel dozens of guys slap me on the back, hollering congratulations, and when I look back she’s gone.
I shower and change as quickly as possible, doing my best to avoid Scott. It annoys him, I know, but now that Will’s gone I don’t really see the point in pretending to have any sort of a friendship with him.
“Spellman,” his waxy voice calls out as I throw the hoodie on that Mom snagged from her church swap last weekend.
“Sup,” I nod, quickly running my hands through my hair, eager to get out of here. Sloane texted me that her and Carm were waiting in the lot behind the locker room, the one for athletes and their loved ones. Something about Sloane parking there felt good. Better than good, it felt right.
“When the fuck are we going out dude? I heard Will’s downtown.”
My eyes narrow in Scott’s direction, because I know he’s bluffing. There’s no way in hell Will texted, much less gave his location, to this douche bag.
“I haven’t heard that. I haven’t heard from him at all, actually.” I slide my duffle over my shoulder slamming my locker shut.
“Just what I heard.” Scott shrugs, but his irritation is palpable.
“What are you nerds talking about?” Josiah slides in between us, opening his locker.
“Trying to convince Spellman to go out with us tonight.” Scott’s eyes are clouded with suspicion as he looks me over and Josiah seems confused by the newfound tension between us.
“Sorry boys. Can’t tonight.” I clasp a hand on Josiah’s shoulder and start moving toward the door.
“You hangin’ out with Ian again?” I hear Scott call out from behind me and I freeze. Turning around slowly I meet his eyes, and normally when I look at Scott I can feel my brain cells begin to waste away, but tonight, something's different.
He knows something.
“I don’t know what you're talking about.” It comes out like a growl.
“I think you do, Andy. I think you know exactly what I’m talking about.” His features form a sinister grin as he bumps me with his shoulder and strolls to the showers.
“That dude is a freak,” Josiah mutters, shutting his own locker and I let a small breath move through my nose.
“Definitely,” I nod, anxiety roiling in my stomach because somehow Scott knows I’ve been sneaking around with Ian. Whether or not he knows why remains to be seen.
It feels like the walk in freezer at the club when I open the door that leads outside and I wish I had something warmer than a hand me down hoodie as I approach the various cars sprawled throughout the lot.
I hear Carmen before I see her, loudly belting the words to some song from High School Musical.
I mistakenly allowed Sloane to show her; she hasn’t stopped singing it since.
Sloane leans against Delilah’s hood, her jeans hugging every curve as her head bobs along to the timber of Carmen's voice. She reaches her hands out, grabbing my sister and twirling her, and I can see that spark of happiness in Carmen that I feel in myself. Like this—Sloane—was the piece that’s been missing for so long.
“Andy!” Carmen practically screeches when they finally see me and Sloane lets out that soft throaty laugh that makes my stomach dip.
“If it ain’t the Lion’s most valuable player!” Her toothy smile has my stomach somersaulting.
“Ah, I don’t know about that,” I breathe out as Carmen slams her tiny body into me for a full blown bear hug.
“Sloane said we could get pizza,” she squeaks out.
“Oh did she?” I laugh and look at Sloane, her sheepish smile and the way her thick lashes brush her high cheekbones pulling a warmth up my neck that I wish my sweatshirt did a better job of hiding.
“I may have said somethin’ like that.” She kicks the toe of her red cowboy boots against the pavement.
“Then I think,” I ruffle Carmen's hair, “that can be arranged.”
“There. I took a bite,” Carm whines, mozzarella cheese making a bridge between her and the slice of pizza she just bit into.
I sigh, rolling my eyes and Sloane giggles, handing her at least ten dollars of quarters she just broke at the bar.
Carmen’s eyes widen like Sloane just handed her a small fortune and I guess to Carm, she kinda did.
“Have fun,” Sloane winks and I watch as Carmen skips over to the large arcade connected to the pizza restaurant.
Dozens of other kids surround the pinball and claw machines and the more I look, the more I feel that tug of youth slipping away, the ambient glow of the machines reminding me of the summers Luis would take me to play ski ball. ‘Boy’s night’ he’d call it.
I watch Sloane watching those same kids slot quarters into the arcade games, an almost haunted expression on her face.
“Hey—you good?” I use the spatula to push another large slice onto Sloane’s plate and she snaps out of it.
She grabs the canister of red pepper flakes shaking until her pizza is almost drowning in them before smiling down at it, satisfied.
“Sloane?” She looks up, her eyes glassy, face slightly flushed. “Oh shit. What happened?”
“Nothing, nothing. I’m fine.” Her smile is sad as she inhales a sharp breath, picking up her slice of pizza and taking a large bite.
I watch her, trying to see any sign in her face of what she might be feeling.
She must feel me watching because she wipes her eyes and then rolls them playfully, carefully chewing her pizza before taking a sip of her beer.
“Wish this place had something stronger,” she chuckles almost to herself before looking at me.
“Has anyone ever told you it’s rude to look at someone so hard?
” The glassiness is gone but that twinge of sadness is still there.
“You can talk to me, you know.” I nod toward the games, at the sheer joy painted across every child's face, trying to communicate that something about it makes me sad, too. She nods, chewing on another bite of pizza seeming to think something over.
“I think I’m just jealous,” she says, pressing her lips together in a shy smile.
“Of them?”
“Of you.” She bites her inner cheek and she must see my utter shock because she chuckles, that laugh I wish I could drown in.
“Why would you be jealous of me?” I pull my head back trying to see in her what she sees in me. Like maybe her expression will lead me to the thoughts in her head.
“You’re just…loved, Andy.” She looks at my sister, giggling with a boy about her age as they both clutch the wheels of the Nascar style game they're seated at. “Your family is warm. Is perfect.” She takes another long sip of her beer staring down into it, refusing to meet my eyes.
“It hasn’t always been like this Sloane…this easy.” I take a bite of the crust that I notice she hasn’t touched on her plate. “Most days, Carm and I would kill for what you have.”
She huffs out a laugh. “That’s crazy.”
Frustration creases my brow as I observe a girl who’s so starved for connection that she can’t even see how good she has it.
“Half of my wardrobe is from a donation bin.” I pour the pitcher of beer into my own glass until a pale white foam hits its edge.
“I’ve never been abroad, hadn’t tried sushi until I got to Astor…
” I laugh. “I ate reduced lunch at school, and was on every government assistance plan you could think of. Carm and I are close because I raised her when my parents worked overtime to make ends meet.” I basically sold my soul to get us to Boston I want to say, but instead I watch her, the way she’s picking at her sleeve, guilt washing over her features.
“We’re close because all we have is each other.
” I watch Carmen, feeling that glassy haze fall over my own vision.
“She’ll know, Andy.” I look over and Sloane's careful gaze focuses on me. “That you did what you could. That she might not have had everything but she had enough. She had you.” She swallows hard and I consider her mom, the things she’s told me about her adoption, that photo of her in that file.
“Did you have enough?” There’s a steady burn between us, the heat of two people who aren’t saying anything but also saying everything.
She doesn’t answer but I watch her eyes find my sister, full of sorrow, jealousy and hope and I know she feels the way I do.
Like if she couldn’t have this, at least Carm can.
“When I first met Luis he’d take me to an arcade in California, pretty similar to this one.
” I suck in a breath, feeling an urgent need to tell her the truth—a souvenir from my childhood that my dad can’t strip away.
I clear my throat, trying to disguise an emotion I’m sure is so clearly written across my face and keep my voice low, as if the memory will crack in half if I speak an octave higher.
“It was just for bad days. I’d lose a basketball game, fail a test, be stuck on why my dad left…
why he never came back.” I see understanding flood her expression and wish she didn't carry this exact same wound. The way it worms itself inside every inch of you, every thought, every action, infesting every memory until all you are is an amalgamation of the ways you couldn’t make them stay.
“He’d always remind me that even when someone leaves you behind it isn’t some omen for the rest of your life.
” Her breath hitches at the words and I let my hand graze hers, let the tips of our fingers touch across the table.
“I was so young. I just wanted to run from every connection at that point.” I let out a sad laugh.
“Luis helped me realize I was running because I was scared, that if I ran long enough I’d forget how to stay.
How to let someone find me.” The room feels heady, like we are both holding our breath and her hand urgently grasps mine in a plea to stay here—stay with her.
“How did you stop? Running?” Trembled air escapes her as she breathes the words.
The question hangs between us, the heaviness of it muting the laughter around us, until we are just a we and the rest of the world has faded away.
I let my eyes meet hers and I see it, all of what we could be together, both of our memories, the pain and the love rippling in the dark blue flecks of her gaze.
“Someone found me.” My voice is a ghost of all the things I still want for myself, the things I can see that she wants too. We sit there, the moment quiet and winding around us.
“Sloane! Look!” Carmen’s giddy voice pulls Sloane’s focus as she moves her attention to my sister who’s proudly pulling a large stuffed dog from a claw machine.
“Hell yeah, sister!” Sloane’s smile moves into that too perfect mask, but I see it there, raw hot pain, pain I wish I could wipe away, wish I could consume.
“Ski ball?” She juts her chin out, her voice too chirpy as she chugs the rest of her beer, but it’s there in her eyes—recognition that the moment we just had happened, that it existed and she can’t just wipe it away no matter how much she wants to.
I nod, registering that this is her shield, her performance, the one her parents, the tabloids, hell, even her brother believe.
But I’ve seen what’s underneath and I know she’s just afraid.
Scared I’ll name that thing out loud. Something real, something breakable, a connection that terrifies her.
So I let the pause stretch, hold her gaze just long enough to remind her I’m still here, still seeing her.
Then I grin, letting my own mask fall into place.
“Yeah. Ski ball.”