Sex, Not Love(77)

I’d like to say I let her blow by me to help her confidence. But I didn’t have to let her do anything. She didn’t break a sweat to pass me. And I found out all too quickly that my three-point shot was beginner’s luck. We played for a while, the game growing more intense with each basket we made. By the time we were done, my shirt was untucked, sleeves rolled up, and I was sweating like an out-of-shape old man. Izzy was barely winded.

“Need a break?” she asked.

I was bent over with my hands on my knees, trying to catch my breath. “What gave you that idea?”

She laughed, and we sat on the curb to cool off.

“How are things going? Is Yakass being good to you, or do I have to fly out to New York to kick his ass?”

“Yakshit, not Yakass. And everything’s good, I guess.”

“You guess?”

“Let me ask you something? Would you really fly across the country to kick a boy’s ass if he was mean to me?”

I’m sure she thought I was kidding, but I wasn’t. “Absolutely.”

“Then I should return the favor. Oh, wait…I just kicked your ass.” She smirked.

I deserved that. Picking a few pieces of grass from the lawn, I asked, “How is she?”

“Not so great...” Izzy turned to look me square in the face, “…thanks to you.”

“I’m sorry, Izzy.”

“I don’t get it. I thought you liked her.”

“I did. I do.”

“So, what’s the problem? Is it because you live out here, and we live in New York?”

“It’s complicated.”

She shook her head. “It’s actually not. Adults just make things more complicated than they need to be. You like her. She likes you. You work it out.”

“It’s not that simple. There’re a lot of other things that factor in as you get older.”

“Are you going to jail?”

Sadly, she was asking a serious question. “No, I’m not going to jail.”

“Did you cheat on her?”

“I don’t think this is an appropriate conversation to be having. But no, I didn’t cheat on her.”

She ignored my comment. “Do you still think about her?”

I nodded. It was impossible to not think about her all day long, even though I’d tried my hardest.

Izzy was quiet for a long time, and I knew she was pondering how to put together the puzzle of our conversation. Although without all the pieces, she’d never be able to see the full picture. At least that’s what I thought, until she proved kids could see a lot more than adults thought they could.

“My dad messed up in so many ways. He’s not the guy I thought he was. Over the last few years, I’ve sat around and thought about all of things he said to me. Because I’d never suspected he could be a liar, it made me question if I even knew how to tell the truth from his lies. So I doubted everything—did he love me? Did he want to be with me, be with us, or were we part of the act he put on for people? I didn’t realize it until recently, but Nat was feeling the same way. That’s why it was hard for her to move on, for both of us to move on. My dad claimed he didn’t tell Nat the truth because he didn’t want to hurt her. And of course, everyone thinks I’m too young to understand anything.” She shrugged. “Maybe I am too young to understand a lot of things. But what I’ve learned over the last two years is Nat doesn’t need protecting. She’s the strongest woman I know. So if you want to protect her—really allow her to move on without it dragging out for years like things with my dad did—don’t leave her questioning. Because while the truth hurts, it’s like a Band-Aid when you rip it off. The pain goes away. It’s the lies and questioning that keep you aching for a long time.”

My mouth hung open. Not only had I had my ass handed to me in a game of one-on-one, I’d just been schooled on life and love by a sixteen year old.





Chapter 35


Hunter

One week later




Holy shit.

I’d always suspected it was her.

I came to visit Jayce a few times a year—but every year on his birthday, his grave always had flowers on it before I arrived. They were such an odd combination—a violet, a lily, a carnation, maybe two roses, and some Hawaiian birds of paradise. It wasn’t an arrangement a florist would ever put together. And they weren’t wrapped in the traditional way; only a string of jute bound the disorganized bundle together. It made me think someone had walked into a florist and just started picking out flowers they liked—or ones they thought the recipient would like—without regard to matching or making a bouquet of any sort.

Which was why I’d always suspected it was her. It was classic Summer—bold and beautiful, as seen through her eyes.

Her back was to me, but I knew it was her from two rows away. Out of habit, I stopped and watched from a distance. I’d done that for a few months after things ended—not wanting to see her, but not being able to keep the hell away.

She paced back and forth in front of Jayce’s headstone, and I thought maybe she was talking to him. That seemed about right. I smiled when I saw her wag her finger at the stone. After watching longer than I should have, I turned to walk away. I’d come back later for my visit. But I’d only made it a half a dozen steps when her familiar voice called to me.