“This is my fault,” Mr. Bailey said. “I caused this. I was trying to look out for her, but all I did was hurt her more. Now I’ve hurt you, too.”
His voice lost power, ending on a ragged whisper, and I lifted my head to see him staring with glazed eyes at the shoebox. His thick eyebrows were drawn together, and his mouth was pressed in a tight slash.
For a girl who believed she was weak, Lily had the power to bring strong men to their knees.
Her dad exhaled heavily. “Lily takes after my wife more than she knows. That wild, passionate streak comes from her.” His lips lifted at the corners, and his face softened. “But with that stubbornness comes an incredible capacity to love.”
My heart gave a pained thump, and blue eyes, so much like his daughter’s, raised to meet mine. “She’s hurting now. Embarrassed and licking her wounds. She hates it that she lost control in front of a crowd. My daughter thinks it makes her look weak.” His face pinched, and his shoulders fell with a sigh. “That, she got from me. I’ve messed her up in many ways, it seems. She has no idea how strong she is, which is also on me. But if you’re willing to tough it out and fight for her, I think she’ll come around. Like I said, she’s a hell of a lot like her mother.”
A flame of hope kindled in my chest. Miniscule, really. Barely enough to roast a marshmallow. But I clung to it regardless.
Looking straight into her father’s eyes, I made a promise to them both. “I’m not giving up.”
In my pocket, my hand brushed against the necklace she’d thrown at me. Tugging it out, I asked, “Can you give this to her? You’re right. She is stronger than she gives herself credit for, and if nothing else, I want her to remember that.”
Stupidly, I’d assumed Mr. Bailey didn’t know Spanish. Not everyone did. But from the amused quirk of his lips, I’d been mistaken.
“Chingona, huh?” He chuckled under his breath, then closed his hand around the charm. “I’ll make sure she gets it.”
We exchanged a look, one where, oddly enough, I felt like we were on equal footing. It figured I’d win his approval the moment I stopped needing it. I shook my head at the irony and turned on my heel. Either way, it felt nice to have.
The walk to my truck strengthened my resolve. A text didn’t count as closure. Until Lily looked me in the eyes and told me we were over, I would keep fighting. Yanking open my door, I glanced at the second-story window almost as an afterthought and watched the curtain drop.
Chapter Thirty-One
Lily
“I can’t believe I let y’all talk me into this.”
Shades of pink and purple lit the bleachers of Brighton stadium, giving the air a rose-gold glow. Sydney snorted and looped her arm around my elbow. “Yeah. Because a night staring at your bedroom walls sounds so much more appealing.”
“No more hiding,” Angéla chimed in from my other side, resting her head on my shoulder. If Sydney was my protector, Angéla was my gooey center. “Staying home means she wins.”
There was no need to explain who she was.
It wasn’t often that people surprised me, but as of this morning, color me astonished. Dad had wanted me to stay home again, but I’d refused. I’d already missed one test, I didn’t want to fall further behind. I had relented on the anti-anxiety medicine, however; we were trying a different one this time, one that hopefully wouldn’t give me headaches or nausea, but even so, it’d take several weeks to have an effect. I’d promised to call if I felt off, but with the blindside over, I’d figured I could handle school politics. When Sydney had pulled into the student lot, I’d been prepared for the stares. For the snickers, the smirks, and maybe even a dash of sympathy.
What I’d gotten was support.
Before we’d even stepped into the building, two girls had met us on the breezeway to tell me Cameron sucked. In the hall near the stairs, another girl had stopped to say she was looking forward to seeing me dance. She’d appeared genuine, too. At my locker, a group of passing guys had given me a thumbs-up, and then in government, another had asked where he could get my “You’re Overreacting” tee with two science beakers on it. Not being snarky, either. Legit curious.
My world was in a state of flummox.
Cameron’s attempt to alienate me and somehow win back Stone had turned on her. Miraculously so. While she wasn’t suddenly persona non grata, her social standing had taken a severe hit. Evidently, while I’d been at the hospital getting pricked and prodded again, Stone had gotten to work. He’d spoken out, shot down rumors, and had set the record straight. If he’d come out swinging after Cameron had cheated in the spring, instead of hanging back and taking the blow, who knows what would’ve happened.
The fact he hadn’t when it had only been his reputation on the line, and he’d done so now when it wasn’t, wasn’t lost on me. What I didn’t know was what it meant. Or what I should do about it.
An icky feeling swam in my stomach, and I notched my head against Angéla’s. “How can you even stand to sit with me right now? I’m leaving the studio high and dry. You should hate me.”
“Pshaw,” she countered, blowing a raspberry, then sat up so fast I almost got whiplash. “First of all, I’ll always have your back, and secondly, we understand. I’m not gonna blow smoke up your butt and say it doesn’t suck, because it does. Totally. You and my brother kill that routine, Lil, and it’d be a giant middle finger to the bitch if you danced. From the sound of it, almost the entire school is coming out, thanks to her stunt. They want to see this showcase Ma was supposedly paid to put you in, even if they know it was just another of Cameron’s lies.”
At that, my small smile twisted.
One good thing had come out of this mess. In a roundabout way, I’d still helped the studio. Ilusiòn’s showcase should be packed, and with luck, those bodies would turn into paying students. Granted, half the expected crowd was coming for me, and they were going to be sadly disappointed, not to mention the fact that I was letting Mrs. Viktória down. I hated that more than anything. But there was no way I could handle the pressure. School was one thing, but being under a literal spotlight after yesterday’s spectacle? Performing with all those eyes focused on me, wondering if it would happen again? No way. I just had to have faith that everyone who did come for me would stay and be blown away by the rest of the show.
Admittedly, though…a big piece of me still wanted to be a part of it. Never mind the pressure, twenty-four hours ago, I’d been as integral to the event as anyone, and it felt wrong not being there. It was strange how fast things could change.
“But,” Angéla continued, pulling me from my downward spiral. “I get it. Ma gets it, too. More importantly, you dancing—or not dancing—has squat to do with our friendship. We’re solid, you and me. Becas unite!”
She lifted our linked hands high, and I couldn’t help grinning at her lovable enthusiasm.
Desperately needing further distraction, I surveyed the spirited stands. We were packed in, shoulder to shoulder, faces painted and signs waving. The cheer squad was out on the sidelines of the field, stretching in preparation for what should be a volatile matchup, and right at the center of the pile was Cameron. Her smile wasn’t quite as vibrant as usual, her hair somehow less bouncy. Clearly, whatever she’d set out to prove yesterday had failed, and she’d lost more than she could’ve ever hoped to gain. But watching her now, I got a glimpse of the vulnerable girl behind the balls-to-the-wall, go-getter mask. Not enough to feel sorry for her—she’d made her bed and tried and succeeded in hurting me. But enough of a glimpse to help me remember she was also just a girl.
Beyond our rivalry, beyond our very different approaches to life, Cameron and I were the same. We both worked hard, we both pushed ourselves, and we both expected a lot out of our futures. Yet she was here tonight, despite the backlash of yesterday and in spite of the fact that she was taking the ACT tomorrow. It was the last chance to score big before Early Action.
When she’d mentioned it at our NHS meeting earlier t
his week, before the drama and probably in an attempt to make me nervous about the test, it’d been a toss-up on what was funnier—her reaction to me telling her I was content with my current score, or that I was no longer applying early to Harvard, either.
The thing was, the stress leading up to those tests wasn’t worth it. Not when I’d already done well. In fact, nothing was worth making myself sick, especially not the future, a fact I’d only recently learned. Then again, maybe Cameron already knew that secret. She was here, after all, even with a test in the morning. Despite being a top contender for valedictorian, she’d never once stopped living her life. She was out enjoying it, not stuck in her room studying notecards and sharpening pencils.
It turned out, Stone was right. There was more to high school than grades. There was a whole lot to experience, too.
On the field, the cheer squad lifted a giant breakaway banner, and a pulse went through the stadium. Cypress Lake had turned out en masse to watch the biggest game of the season. According to Liam, Brighton and Morton took turns winning every other year, and technically, tonight should be Morton’s. Unfortunately for the Mustangs, we had Stone at QB. Regardless of what those idiot announcers had been implying the past few weeks, I had no doubt the Tigers would emerge victorious.
A surge of blue and white uniforms flooded the end zone, and the crowd shot to their feet. I jumped up right along with them, heart pounding, as our classmates screamed at the top of their lungs. The team, huddled behind the banner, started bouncing, and from our seats, it was impossible to make out what they were chanting—but the passion in their voices, the steady rise of the tempo, and the frenzy of their feet had the entire arena going nuts. And when they ripped through the banner…everyone lost their minds.
“And now, your champion Tigers!”
Number five streaked across the field, and a stabbing pain hit my stomach. Sydney squeezed my hand in solidarity, and Angéla gently knocked her shoulder against me. Regardless of the ache, I reached into the side pocket of my bag, searching for my phone to snap a picture of the chaos that outshone Homecoming, then realized it wasn’t there.
What the hell? Had it fallen out? Did I forget it at home?
Damn, talk about being in a head fog.
Three huge banners, emblazoned with B, H, and S, rippled in the air while guys in the cheer squad ran down the sideline. I followed their journey, the pain spreading to my chest, and a flash of blond hair caught my eye.
I gasped, which immediately brought Angéla’s attention. I shook my head, waving away her concern. How could I explain what this meant to someone who didn’t know him?
Liam’s cheeks were so bright he looked like he’d swallowed one of the huge floodlights lighting the field. He was standing on the sidelines, bracing himself on his tripod canes as he handed a water to one of our players. Only recently did he transition out of a walker, and already he was talking about forearm canes, though that was probably a year or two away. Regardless, looking at him now, the word “disability” would never come to mind. Liam’s energy, his incredible heart, were so big it was clear nothing kept him down.
So much of my life felt like a struggle. The race for valedictorian. My battle with anxiety. Missing my mom. Missing my dad. Watching Liam on a football field put everything in perspective. He’d have given anything to play the sport he loved, but he was equally thrilled serving water to his idols. Just being around them made him happy. Watching them play. Talking stats. Living vicariously. Liam understood what it meant to enjoy the moment.
The broken pieces of my heart clenched in unison, then sighed.
Stone had kept his promise.
God, I had to be a masochist. Why else would I willingly watch the guy I loved but could no longer touch? Seriously, being this close to Stone physically hurt. What made it worse was I wasn’t just grieving the death of our relationship; I was grieving who I’d started to become when I was with him, too.
With Stone, I’d been an updated version of myself. A version that lived for the moment and was even starting to find her place. A bit of the old, sprinkled in with the new. Now…now I didn’t know who I was. My old patterns didn’t fit. I wasn’t the fearless girl from junior high, but I also wasn’t the completely klutzy brainiac, either. I wasn’t Lily 1.0 or 2.0, and the two things that had given me any clarity and brought me back to life were gone—Stone, and through him, dance.
I couldn’t lie. A part of me wanted to forget yesterday. I wanted to get up, rush the sideline, and pick up where Stone and I had left off. But embarrassment wasn’t the only thing keeping me rooted in the stands. I was hurt, too.
The truth hadn’t been as bad as Cameron claimed. So what? Stone still hadn’t been honest with me. Lies of omission were as hurtful as direct deceit, maybe more so because he’d had six weeks to tell me about the agreement, and I’d practically begged him to let me in.
If he could hide something like that so easily, what else could he have hidden?
With my butt firmly planted on the bleacher, I watched Liam talk to the guys. His eyes went wide with enthusiasm at whatever they were saying, the team including him without question. Stone had given him this. The ache in my chest grew as Liam shuffled down the line and then stopped in front of number five.
Although he had his game face on, Stone bent to accept the water, turning sideways while he spoke with Liam. The boy tossed his head back in a laugh, and Stone ruffled his hair with a small smile—not the guarded QB grin I’d teased him about, but one that didn’t quite engage his eyes, either. The broad line of his shoulders, enormous with the bulk of the pads, rose and fell with a breath, and despite the longing and sadness pushing in, threatening to tug me under…or maybe because of it…I wondered what he was thinking about.
Then, without warning, Stone was watching me, too.
My breath caught as the moment dragged on. The stadium and the crazy cheers fell away into silence. My vision blurred, but in Stone’s dark eyes, I swore I saw love, along with regret. I so badly wanted to believe it but told myself it was probably a trick of the lights. However, whatever he saw shining in mine had his smile widening in degrees. His dimple flashed, and the barest hint of crinkle framed his chocolate eyes.
Overwhelmed, I grabbed for my necklace, needing the grounding of the charm to center me—only to remember I’d given it back.
A sensation like a cold wave washed over me, and I bowed my head. “I already miss him,” I admitted, hoping the sounds of the crowd had carried away my broken whisper.
Beside me, Angéla sighed and rested her head against my arm.
Chapter Thirty-Two
Lily
When I walked in the house, the first thing I noticed was the quiet. The grandfather clock Mom had gotten on a trip to North Carolina a few years ago ticked in the corner, and the cool air-conditioning hummed overhead. Other than that, our house was silent. Disturbingly so. The lack of noise had become our new norm, but tonight, it played havoc on my nerves.
Tiptoeing down the hall, I prayed Dad was asleep. For some unknown reason, Debbie was parked in the driveway, right next to his silver Audi. That hadn’t been the plan. Gabriel was supposed to run the diagnostic and then call with an estimate. If I couldn’t swing it, I was going to pick her up next week.
Why had he dropped her off early, and without calling?
More importantly, what were the chances Dad hadn’t noticed?
Holding my breath, I glanced inside his office, and when I found it empty, I exhaled in relief. “Thank you, Jesus,” I whispered to the void.
“Good game?”
“Oh, crap!”
Heart in my throat, I spun around, cutting my eyes toward the darkened living room. The lamp on the far end table cast just enough light that I could see my father seated in the large, overstuffed chair, but not make out the expression on his face.
I forced a smile. “Uh, yeah. Tigers won.”
Like an idiot, I wiggled awkward spirit fingers, but Dad didn’t crack a smi
le. His broad shoulders rose and fell with a breath, his feet firmly planted on the ground, and I shoved my hands in my pockets to hide their nervous tremble.
Shifting my feet toward the stairwell, I feigned a yawn. “I think I’m gonna head on up to bed. It’s been a long night.”
When Dad remained motionless, giving no real indication he’d heard me, I bit the inside of my cheek and turned to leave. What little ground we’d won back since his return had been eaten away by his and Stone’s agreement. While Dad had explained his reasoning, and I understood to an extent, I was still hurt and embarrassed. Not that I’d told him that. By this point, there was so much left unsaid between us, I didn’t know where to begin.
I’d made it two whole steps when he called quietly, “Don’t forget your phone.”
Crap. I knew that would’ve been too easy.
Licking my lips, I spun back and casually strolled toward him, noticing how small my iPhone looked in his ginormous hand. It reminded me of the trips we used to take and how I’d slide my hand in his and instantly feel safe, regardless of how unfamiliar the area felt. Dad had always seemed larger than life, and once upon a time, he’d been my rock.
I came to a stop in front of him. “Thanks. It must’ve fallen out of my bag in the rush. You know Syd—always needs to be the first to arrive. If she’s on time, she thinks she’s late.”
And now I was rambling. Never a good sign. Dad’s eyes sharpened on me, and I held out my hand for the phone, hoping the shadows hid how it shook.
He handed it over, and with a heavy swallow, I slid it into my pocket. “Night,” I offered weakly, and he nodded silently, not blinking once. Creepy.
Slowly, cautiously, I turned and managed to make it halfway through the doorway before he said, “I answered it for you while you were gone.”
My feet froze on the carpet.
“About twenty minutes after you left, I heard it ringing. Darn thing was tucked under a throw pillow. No wonder you forgot it.” When I looked over my shoulder, he had his hands steepled on his chin. My stomach clenched as sweat dotted my upper lip. “I don’t know why I answered it. When I heard it ringing, I looked for it, and after finding it, my finger swiped across the screen on instinct. I didn’t think you’d mind.”
Eyes on Me Page 28
