Total pages in book: 75
Estimated words: 71915 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 360(@200wpm)___ 288(@250wpm)___ 240(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 71915 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 360(@200wpm)___ 288(@250wpm)___ 240(@300wpm)
Things seemed different between us since the sleepover a couple of weeks ago, but I couldn’t put my finger on why. We’d hung out a few additional nights, surprisingly with more snuggling and laughter than sex. It was messing with my head how much I looked for ways to make those opportunities happen, even under the pretense of studying together or feeding him, which he never refused. It also felt like there was something heavier there, crackling in the air between us, waiting to be said. But it felt too overwhelming, my chest aching with the idea of finally admitting it.
When Alex grinned, I responded in kind, even as Bailey scowled in my direction, probably disappointed I wasn’t Dad.
Mom nudged me with her shoulder. “Is Alex the reason you’re here?”
“What? No. Well, yes. But I’m here to see you and Bailey too.”
Mom gave me a pointed look that made my stomach drop. “I heard through the grapevine that you and Alex have grown…closer.”
“And what grapevine is this?” I deadpanned.
She motioned with her hand. “Bailey told Dad, and Dad mentioned it to me.”
I rolled my eyes. “Complained to Dad, more like it.”
“Something like that,” she mused. “But it’s not hard to miss. Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Because it’s only casual. We like hanging out. End of story.”
How much longer could I tell myself that?
“Mm-hmm, you sure it’s not more than that?” she asked, but I couldn’t look her in the eye. “I’m certainly not twisting your arm to drive an hour away to attend a swim meet.”
When I didn’t reply, she sighed, then changed the subject. Sort of.
“I told Bailey he could invite Danica for Thanksgiving,” she said, reminding me that the holidays were right around the corner. “But he admitted something similar—that they were taking it slow. Apparently, she lives out of state and is heading home.”
“Yeah?” I watched the coach give the team a pep talk. “Well, good for him.”
“Honey, you’ve always been skeptical about…well, everything. But especially since the divorce. And I don’t want that to cloud this friendship with Alex.” I opened my mouth to protest, but she held up her hand. “Let me finish. It’s obvious you care about him. That’s why you’ve been showing up. I think it’s super sweet. You deserve some happiness.”
I made a frustrated sound. “Bailey certainly doesn’t think so. He was so pissed when he found out.”
She squeezed my hand. “He needs to keep being mad at you so he doesn’t fall apart.”
My gut churned. Damn, when she put it that way…
“But it still makes me angry, how he’s been treating his own brother. I tried to talk to him about it, but he brushed me off.”
“Mom, you don’t have to—”
“Of course I do. You’re my boys, and I’m concerned. Alex is probably the best person to help bridge that gap. He was that way when you were kids too.”
With his own family as well…
Right then, Mrs. Larsen rushed up the stairs, apparently running late, and Mom waved to her to come sit beside us.
“There was construction on the freeway,” she said, her cheeks flushed. “What did I miss?”
“Not too much,” Mom said. “The first heats are underway.”
It was nice that they’d remained friendly all these years.
“Nice to see you, Remy.” Mrs. Larsen smiled at me, then explained that Mr. Larsen was attending another activity with Zoey this weekend.
Maybe Dad had run into traffic as well. But lately, I wondered if other things—other people—were taking more of his time and attention. And likely, Bailey would only view that as another type of competition. Great. He’d be even funner to be around.
Alex waved to his mom from the bench before turning his gaze on me. We grinned at each other until Jordan whispered something in his ear and Alex playfully elbowed him.
Mrs. Larsen threw me a sidelong glance. “I can see how much Alex likes having you here. Thanks for being a good friend.”
My face felt hot as she and Mom shared a knowing glance. Had they talked about us? Christ, how embarrassing.
Mrs. Larsen’s expression grew serious. “Do you think the boys are managing their schedule? I mean, with classes and practice?”
“I think they’re probably superhuman,” I replied. “Not only do they get up at the crack of dawn to practice, but somehow fit in classes and homework too.”
“Sounds like someone admires them,” Mom teased.
“Suppose I’ve come to appreciate their dedication. How very adult of me,” I replied, and they both grinned.
We briefly stood with the other parents to cheer one of the seniors for finishing first in his heat.
“Alex has always been like that, super responsible,” Mrs. Larsen said once we sat back down. “I hope he makes room for some fun too.” She glanced away guiltily, no doubt because of his childhood and Zoey’s medical condition. I felt for her. She was a good person.