Total pages in book: 94
Estimated words: 90795 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 454(@200wpm)___ 363(@250wpm)___ 303(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 90795 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 454(@200wpm)___ 363(@250wpm)___ 303(@300wpm)
“You’re used to being on your own. It makes sense that it’s an adjustment having someone interfering in your life. If my mom had ever remarried after my dad left, I’m sure I would have felt the same. I was the oldest. To me, I was the man of the house—and I hate using that saying.”
“Super fucking misogynistic,” he says.
“Right? But you know what I mean. I felt like I took care of my mom and Dakota—that’s my younger brother—and I’m not sure how I would have taken to someone else trying to do that. Is that how it feels with James?”
“I don’t need him. I don’t need anyone.”
“It’s okay to, though, to need someone or, hell, even if you don’t need them, it’s okay to want someone there.” Nash and James don’t realize how alike they are. James doesn’t want to need or want anyone either. They’re both so damn afraid of letting anyone in that they’re spending so much time hurting themselves.
“Your dad left?” he asks.
“He did. There one day, gone the next. I took some responsibility at first. I look back now, and I know that’s not true, but again, I was the oldest. I’m a caretaker by nature, and I felt like I did something wrong, or I should have been able to make him stay. That was just my brain playing tricks on me. Maybe yours is doing something similar with James. Not the responsibility part, but maybe telling yourself some things that aren’t true.”
He shrugs. He disagrees but doesn’t argue, so I’m taking that as a win. Not wanting to push, when I see the court down the block, I take a page from his book the last time we played and say, “Race you there.”
He turns my way and smiles, scoops up the ball, and says, “Go!” then takes off.
I laugh and run after him, enjoying the friendly competition. Nash is fast, and there’s zero chance I’ll beat him, but I don’t give up, skidding to a stop behind him, out of breath. “You’re not even breathing heavily, you little shit,” I tease, and he laughs.
“Sorry, old man.”
“Hey, who are you calling old? I’m only twenty-eight.”
“Oh. I thought you were closer to James’s age,” he replies, and I cringe. Not because I have a problem with the age gap or think James is old, but talking about our ages makes me feel one step closer to being his student, even if that’s not the case.
“He’s not old either,” I defend.
“He acts it.”
“That’s because he had to be responsible his whole life…maybe like you…”
Nash ignores that, saying, “Catch,” and throwing the ball to me.
I catch it, dribbling and jogging toward the basket, making a layup. “How do you want to do this?”
“Maybe we can go through some drills and stuff? I looked some up online. I can defend like a motherfucker, but I need to work on my shot.”
It always catches me off guard when he curses in front of me, but I have to remember he lived a different life than I did. “Okay. That’s what we’ll work on, then.”
“Bet.” He smiles.
And somehow that makes me feel invincible, like what I’m doing really matters, and I don’t want to fuck it up.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
James
It’s been a week.
Nash and Colton played basketball together every single day. Nash always meets him outside, the two of them heading off together, then Nash coming back to the apartment alone.
It’s been Nash’s choice to do it that way, but…I’ve been a little disappointed. I haven’t told Colton this, but part of me wants him to come up, to knock on my door and for me to answer it, tell him to come inside. Nash would be sitting at the counter, doing homework, and then the three of us would chat for a minute about what they’re working on, and how well Nash is doing, and laugh over a funny story or two. Then I’d tell them to have fun, and Nash would say thanks, and Colton would shoot me his mischievous smile, the one that says he has secret, wicked plans for me later that night. It’s a silly dream, absolutely ridiculous, and I don’t understand why I keep thinking about it.
Sadie and I had a good week, though. I found a program for her after school. The bus will bring her straight there. While technically I would feel safe with her home alone at her age—God knows I was alone much younger—I think it’ll be good for her. Hopefully, she’ll make friends who share her interests. The program is art based, and they focus on different mediums each week. She only has experience with drawing, but she’s told me she’s excited about trying painting and pottery. Our caseworker has been happy with how things have been going too. She said the activities are good for the kids, and I agree.