Total pages in book: 50
Estimated words: 51243 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 256(@200wpm)___ 205(@250wpm)___ 171(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 51243 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 256(@200wpm)___ 205(@250wpm)___ 171(@300wpm)
So, she’s still using drugs… “I’m dating someone else.”
“Good for you.” He patted my back. “Never get stuck on any of these sluts.”
“She’s not a slut.”
“Ease up, man.” He eyed me. “Lighten up. Is she here tonight?”
I shook my head.
“Why not?”
“I didn’t think to ask if she wanted to come,” I said. “Besides, she’s busy.”
“No offense, but if she’s too busy to come see you on your big day, you’re already on the wrong track.” He crossed his arms. “You’re juggling a writing program and being a pro. I doubt she’s doing anything more important.”
“Yeah…” I didn’t feel like getting into this with him, and I couldn’t believe I didn’t ask Audrey to come.
The stadium lights always hit differently from down here. I’d dreamed of this moment my whole life, but somehow, the only face I wanted in the stands was hers.
“Excuse me for a second, Mike.”
“Sure thing.”
With two hours left until kickoff, I figured I could send a driver to get her if she was interested. I pulled out my phone and called her.
“Hey, Taylor.”
“Hey. What are you doing?”
“Thinking that it’s probably a good time for me to take out the expired stuff in your fridge.”
“Yeah, that would probably be a good idea.” I smiled. “I know you’re stressing over Weiss’s new poetry essay, but… if you feel like killing a couple of hours and watching the Bears play tonight, I can send a car for you.”
“You want me to watch you walk up and down the sidelines?”
“I can get you a seat in a suite, if you like.”
“That would probably be better than where I am now.” She lowered her voice. “The guys next to me are half-naked and drunk already, so who knows how bad they’ll be by kickoff.”
“You’re here?”
“Of course I’m here.” There was a smile in her voice. “I wouldn’t miss your first game—injured or not. Well, I would’ve missed it if I still hated you, but…”
Something loosened in my chest I hadn’t realized was tight.
“What section?”
“F. Seat 221.”
I walked out of the tunnel and onto the sidelines, scanning the crowd until I saw her face.
She waved at me, and I signaled for a security guard to go get her.
“You’re sitting in the season-ticket area,” I said to her. “When did you buy that?”
“A few days after I found out you were my roommate.” A blush crept across her cheeks. “I was planning to boo the fuck out of you whenever you did play—to get my aggression out.”
“How lovely.”
“It’s past tense.” She stood as the guard approached. “Now, I’ll cheer while watching your bandage.”
I laughed and ended the call.
When she met me on the field, I pressed a kiss against her lips.
The crowd noise blurred. For a second, it was just her—salt on her skin, rain in her hair, and every reason I’d stopped believing in luck standing right in front of me.
Then I held her against my side and led her up to a box.
“Hey, I— Audrey?” Michael’s eyes widened when he saw her.
“Hey, Michael.” She extended her hand. “Long time, no see.”
He glanced between the two of us, blinking several times.
“Shit, I gotta go,” he said. “I’ll be back soon.”
“Where are you going?”
“I need to make a phone call. Mom owes me some serious money over this.”
Audrey laughed under her breath, still tucked against my side. For the first time in months, the field didn’t feel like pressure—it felt like home.
TRACK 29. SOON IT GETS BETTER (1:49)
AUDREY
A Couple Weeks Later
No, no, no…
Please not today…
It took me two years to process the fact that I’d never hear my mother’s laughter again. Three years to fully accept that my father’s Saturday pancakes would never grace the family table.
I avoided the months of May and June like the plague, never wanting to feel the agony or the painful twist in my gut at the sight of Happy Mother’s Day and Happy Father’s Day sales.
I worked double overtime at whatever job I had, volunteering myself as tribute for regular pay if I had to. For so long, I simply woke up, worked, and slept. It was existing, not living.
This morning, I woke up drowning under a wave of grief and felt the sudden need to get away.
The metal seat was cold beneath my palms; the air smelled like rain and subway dust. My chest felt too small for the kind of hurt still living there.
I rode the subway outside of town on Sunday, needing to cry somewhere alone. No matter how many years passed, the memory of losing my parents still hit me like it was yesterday.
The memories were still as vivid, and time hadn’t done me the courtesy of making it hurt any less.
My phone buzzed with a call.
Taylor.
I didn’t answer.
I sat and watched the sun fall down the sky as my phone kept vibrating against my lap.