Playing the Player(46)

This. Sucked.

I closed my eyes and breathed in deep. I thought of Trina’s lavender oil and wished I could hold her hand again, and look into her beautiful, sad eyes. I wished I could erase yesterday, and last night. More than anything, I wished I’d kissed her that day under the tree.

At least I’d know how she felt about me, if I’d been willing to show her how I felt about her.

But life didn’t grant do-overs.



After the lesson, I tracked down Mark at the front desk.

“What’s up, Slade?”

“Uh, someone was missing from my lesson today. I wondered if maybe she’d called.”

Curiosity flickered in his eyes. “You’re showing a lot of concern, for a sub.”

I shrugged. “It’s just, um, someone I know. From school.”

“Ah,” he said.

I didn’t like the smirk on his face.

“Let me check.” He tapped the keyboard and frowned. “Looks like she switched classes. She dropped this one and is coming to the Sunday afternoon lesson instead.”

Shit.

If I needed any more proof about how much I’d hurt her, this was definitely it.

Alex was right; I was a dick.





Chapter Twenty-Five


Trina


Tuesday, June 18

“Report,” Desi demanded, when I answered her call. I lay on the couch, waiting for Mom to get home. She’d texted me that she had to work late and wouldn’t be home until around nine thirty, which just prolonged the agony of what we needed to do tonight.

“Nothing to report.” I picked at some loose threads on the blanket I’d tucked around me. It was ninety degrees outside, but I was shivering.

“Same old Slade?” she asked.

I didn’t want to talk about the * version of Slade who’d showed up at the park yesterday. Instead I focused on the slurping sound in my ear. “Are you on break?”

“Yeah. I’m addicted to the lemonade.” She slurped again. “I get off in an hour. Let’s do something.”

“Don’t you have a date with Trey?”

“Not really a date. A bunch of us are going to a movie. You should come.”

I sighed and picked at the loose threads again. “I can’t.” I took a deep breath. “Today’s the anniversary. I need to be here with Mom.”

“Oh, honey,” Desi said breathily. “I’m sorry. I forgot.”

“It’s okay.”

“Is your mom home?”

“Not yet.”

“I’ll come over as soon as I’m off work. I can stay with you until she gets home.”

“Desi, I’m fine. Besides, she’s the one who falls apart on the anniversary. Not me.”

Desi was quiet for a moment. “True. You never fall apart, do you?”

“Go to your movie,” I told her. “I’ll be fine. Mom and I will have dinner. Then she’ll light candles, say a rosary, and collapse. I’ll hold her until she cries herself to sleep. Then I’ll go to bed.”

Desi inhaled sharply. “God, Trina. That sounds awful.”

I sighed. “It’s what Mom needs to do, and I need to be here with her. Tomorrow we’ll eat Pop Tarts and drink lousy coffee and start a new day.”

“Okay, well, we’re still on for tomorrow night, right?”

“Um, tomorrow?”

“Pizza and The Voice, right? My house?”

“Uh, yeah. Sure. I, um, forgot.”

“Something has totally distracted you.” She snorted. “Maybe the other nanny is what’s messing with your memory.”

“Desi…” My voice was full of warning.

“Okay, okay. I’ll drop it.” She laughed in my ear. “Anyway. You know you can call me any time, right? Like tonight, after your mom goes to sleep, if you want to come spend the night at my house or whatever.”

I smiled into the phone. “Desi, did anyone ever tell you you’re the best friend ever?”

“Once or twice. Some shrimpy little girl who keeps stalking me.”

I laughed. “Bite me, supermodel.”

Desi slurped in my ear again. “I’ve gotta get back to work. I’ll see you tomorrow.” She paused. “I’ll be sending you positive vibes tonight. And your mom.”

“Thanks.” I pushed the blanket off my bare legs. I needed something to think about besides tonight’s impending gloom.

The shouts of little kids playing outside drew my attention. I moved to the window and watched them run on the small grassy area of our apartment complex. One of the girls reminded me of Gillian, fearlessly climbing to the top of the fence.

Slade’s cold indifference at the park loomed in my mind, and I shook my head, as if I could shatter the images into a million pieces. So he didn’t like me. So what? That was hardly a news flash. He was a good actor, though, I’d give him that. I’d actually been fooled a little bit, thinking we might end up friends by the end of summer. And for one delusional moment, I’d dared to hope for more than friendship.

My eyes shifted to the table in the corner. A new candle towered over the others, which had burned low over the years. Mom bought a new candle for each anniversary of my brother’s death. This one was red, slim, and tapered at the top.