Moment of Truth (Love, Life, and the List #3)(7)

The kitchen smelled of bacon, and my mom was dusting the glass box on the wall. She carefully hung Eric’s keys back inside the box, not to be touched again until next year.

In the house, that box framing the keys was the only thing of Eric’s we still had. It could’ve been a lot worse. His room could’ve still been set up just like he had it. Like he was going to walk back into the house at any moment. It wasn’t and I was grateful for that. His room was now my mom’s office. I was grateful for that too—that they hadn’t put me in his room. I already felt enough like the replacement child sometimes.

As these thoughts streamed through my head, I felt guilty for thinking them. My parents loved me. I forced the thoughts away and grabbed my plate of Eric’s favorites.

“I’m going to swim this afternoon. Is that okay or did we have something else planned for today?”

“Coach called for a practice on a Saturday?”

“No. This is just me. No official practice or anything.” My stiff shoulders let me know that I needed to work on conditioning them more. Swimming easy, like DJ had suggested, no pressure.

“You don’t have any homework?”

“I finished it yesterday during free period.”

Her eyes took in my wet hair. “But you just showered.”

“I know. I should’ve waited until after, but I didn’t shower last night.” I wasn’t sure why I didn’t tell her about my shoulders, that I had needed the heat and pounding water to help them feel better. Maybe because I was worried she’d tell me to take a break. I didn’t need a break. She wouldn’t understand that.

She looked at my hair again as if she was going to tell me no just because I’d showered too soon, but then she said, “That’s fine.”

“So I can borrow your car?”

“Sure.”

I checked my phone as I headed out the door. Amelia hadn’t responded to my text and fake Heath Hall hadn’t responded to my message. Guess I was playing the waiting game.





Four


A shadow fell across my face as I turned my head to breathe. I stopped midstroke and looked up. DJ stood over my lane, gave a small wave, then pushed his black-rimmed glasses up his nose. He often wore contacts, but his glasses made his brown eyes look even bigger.

I pulled out my waterproof earbuds and the music that had been blasting in my head became background noise.

“I thought we agreed you were supposed to take a break from this.” DJ said “this” as if swimming was just some sidenote and not my life. “Especially on the weekends. You know there’s an entire ocean with waves and sand and people just five minutes away.”

I glided to the wall, where I could support myself. “People? You want me to people?”

He smirked. “Is that asking too much?”

I smiled back. “That’s not at all what we agreed to. You told me to swim easy. I’m swimming easy.”

“I meant take a break occasionally.”

“Is that what you’re doing? Taking a break?” I gestured back toward his office.

He ducked his head. “I left my book in the office last night.”

“Reading. Is that how you people?”

He shrugged and blushed a little. “Um . . . no . . . Well, I just left off right in the middle of an important part.”

“Because you had to ice my shoulders?”

“How are they feeling?”

“Really good, actually.” And that wasn’t a lie. I was flushing out the lactic acid that had built up the night before.

“Good.” He lowered himself to the cement and his keys fell out of his pocket. He scooped them up and shoved them back in. “You think Coach is going to let you swim all four races?”

“How do you know about that?” That was my goal. Right now I was swimming three, but I wanted to add butterfly to my race schedule and Coach thought it was too much.

“Everyone who is ever around the pool knows about that, Hadley. You ask him on a weekly basis.”

I laughed. It was true. For a second there I thought maybe he and Coach had been talking, maybe he had some inside information.

“Have you had any college interest yet?” he asked.

“I’m scheduled to visit some, but I still have time to decide. I really want San Diego and I really want a swimming scholarship.” The coach there had been to several of my races. Adding the butterfly to my schedule might push him to make me an official offer.

“Is that all?”

“I know it’s a lot to hope for.” I put my arms up on the cement and rested my chin on them, inches away from his legs. My toes clung to the slanted portion of the wall under the water.

“If anyone can get it you can.”

“What about you? What are your plans next year?”

“Continue with my undergrad classes for sports medicine. Here in town.”

“You’re staying here?”

“I’m only eighteen, you know. I do have a lot more time to decide.”

I realized it must’ve sounded like I was judging him. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean for that to sound like . . . I’m just surprised you want to stay here is all.”

“I like it here. You don’t?”