Chapter 6

Chapter Six

ELIJAH

Tapping the touchpad at the end of my lane, I pop up from the water and rip the swim goggles from my eyes. Jayson's smug smile is the first thing I see.

"Took you long enough."

After a quick glance at the digital board that displays the times, I groan when I see he was over two seconds faster. Infuriating ass.

Hooking my arms over the lane rope, I use it like a buoy to give my rubbery legs a rest while I catch my breath.

"Bite me. You didn't run ten miles this morning."

Jayson pulls in faster times in freestyle, no matter the distance, than anyone else on the CU swim team. And that's without him training. God knows how fast he'd be if he did. Olympic worthy for sure.

I've broached the subject—several times—of why he doesn't take Director Winters's offer to come back. A golden-ticket opportunity like that only happens with Willy Wonka. The only caveat is that it wouldn't include the scholarship Jayson was originally offered.

Jayson joins me at the rope, propping his chin to his crossed arms. "Are you going to watch Jules's practice later?"

"Hadn't planned to. Why?"

I go from time to time to watch from the bleachers, usually when they have something planned afterward because Julien wants me there. Last Thursday, we went to Belly's for their karaoke night. Nothing more hilarious than watching a bunch of tipsy guys trying to sing Gloria Gaynor's "I Will Survive." I hadn't been back there since… nope. Not going there.

"Want to do something?" Small eruptions of water burst up as Jayson kicks his feet.

"I thought you'd be spending time with Liz."

He scowls. "So did I. I drove by her apartment this morning. She didn't answer, and her car wasn't there. Stupid fucking Hellcat," he mumbles.

"Have you tried texting her?" Not the most helpful suggestion because that would've been one of the first things he'd do.

Jayson flips over onto his back in a supine position, frowning at the high ceiling. "She won't return my texts. Has no fucking problem replying to Ry or Jules."

Now my brow furrows. Julien has been texting her? When? He didn't mention it.

Stop it. Of course he's been talking to her, idiot.

Hoping to offer sage advice, I say, "One thing I read that helps trauma-induced amnesia patients is spending time with others. Give her time to get to know you again. Hell, that applies to all of us."

Getting out of the pool, I grab our towels and hand him his before using mine to scrub my hair dry.

"I miss her, man. I just want my girlfriend back. I don't understand any of it. It's fucked up."

"It is," I commiserate.

What else can I really say? Jayson is dealing with something unimaginable. I would be an absolute mess if I was in his shoes.

I pull him in for a hug, one he reciprocates.

"Enough of my depressing shit. Let's focus on something happier. When do you want to go ring shopping?"

It's as if every cell in my body short circuits. I blink. Blink again.

I had wanted to propose on Julien's birthday next month, but with everything going on, it's been the last thing on my mind.

"I don't think now is the time," I quickly reply.

The hot, disappointed look Jayson gives me makes me almost reconsider.

"When then?" he presses.

"I don't know," is what I want to say. Instead, I say nothing at all.

The echo of footsteps stops our conversation as Director Winters walks toward us, wearing his usual polo shirt with the CU logo on it.

"Elijah, come see me before you leave."

Wondering what it's about, I reply, "Sure."

Without stopping to chat, he comments to Jayson as he passes, "You keep dropping your hips every third stroke."

Jayson waits a beat before whispering, "I swear that man hates me."

I think the passive-aggressive comments Director Winters makes whenever he sees him are his version of tough love. He knows what an incredible athlete Jayson is. All that potential wasted. What's the saying? You can lead a stubborn mule to water, but you can't make it drink? Or is it a horse? I'm sticking with the jackass analogy.

I nudge Jayson's shoulder. "Come on. I'm starving and in desperate need of a mushroom and bacon burger."

As soon as I pick up my phone from the chair where I dropped my stuff, "Single Ladies" starts playing just as my stepsister's name flashes on the display.

"It's April."

"I'm going to rinse off and get changed. Tell her I said hi." Jayson walks off toward the men's locker room.

Sometimes, I feel like I'm a person of two worlds who straddles some weird boundary where Julien and the guys are on one side and April, Ash, David, and the rest of my CU friends are on the other. Fallon exists in a universe of his own.

"What's up, little A?"

April's voice comes through stilted and breathless. "… stupid… car… flat…"

I can barely hear her through the background noise. It sounds like she's stuck in a wind tunnel.

"What?"

There's a loud slam , then blissful quiet. "The freaking car has a flat tire. Talk to me while I wait for Triple A."

Thinking she's broken down on the side of a road in the middle of nowhere, I'm immediately worried for her safety. She's not supposed to drive up from South Carolina until this weekend.

"Where are you?"

"Target. I came out to find the back tire flat and a nail sticking out of it. I didn't know nails were that big. The thing is huge. Like a freaking javelin spear."

Phone to my ear, I pace back and forth along the edge of the pool. "Can your dad come get you?"

"Hold on. It's flipping hot, and I'm sweating in some uncomfortable places. Thank god for ventilated seats."

She must be driving Brad's Tesla.

"Okay, I'm back. Can't call Dad because he's out of town on business, and I'd rather skinny dip in a lake of fire ants than call Beverly."

Just hearing Mom's name has my jaw clenching. I haven't seen nor spoken to her since the hotel parking lot confrontation in Charleston when she walked away for good. April doesn't bring her up at all. Mom is persona non grata , her name never spoken in my presence. Also, April can't stand her.

"Speaking of Beverly…" she says.

The first thought that flies to the tip of my tongue comes out. "Are they getting a divorce?"

I'm honestly surprised their marriage has lasted this long seeing as Mom is Brad's fourth wife. Maybe third. I can't recall. April says he goes through wives as fast as the seasons change. It's why she doesn't bother forming any kind of relationship with her new stepmoms. They're gone just as quickly as they arrived, so why make the effort? Her words, not mine.

April's humorless scoff erupts from the speaker. "I wish, but no. I hate to drop this on you, but Dad said Beverly insists on coming with us this weekend. I told him no thank you. His reply was, ‘Tough shit, so suck it up and be nice.'" She releases a long groan. "Why do adults suck?"

"You're an adult now."

She mock gasps. "Don't be mean. I'm a fledgling adult, which means I'm still cool."

I chuckle even though my stomach has violently plummeted to my feet. But I can't let seeing Mom for the first time in almost a year prevent me from being there for my stepsister. Mom's opinion of me—who I choose to love and how I choose to live my life—doesn't matter. The cruel words she said that have haunted me almost every day since I told her and Dad that I was gay no longer have any hold over me. Fuck her. Harsh, but an accurate sentiment. She may not want a gay son, but I don't want a mother who's a bigoted, homophobic bitch.

Determined to still go, I reply, "You wanted me there, so I'm coming."

April sighs. "I knew you would say that, and I love you for it, but I'm not going to put you through that. I'd tell Dad to go fuck himself, then tell her the same thing, but until I have my own source of income and can pay my own way, I'm kinda stuck between a rock and a pile of shit. Neither option is good."

"I want to be there for you. Who cares about her? I sure as hell don't."

Not anymore. I closed that door for good. No more little boy pining and hoping for the day his mother would love him.

"I'd throw her out the dorm window if she said one condescending, mean thing to you. I don't think Duke would look too fondly on murder before classes even started. I can't go to jail, justified as it would be, if I want to become a doctor. Hippocratic oath and all."

My stepsister is crazy loyal and has the protective streak of a pit bull.

"I don't want to argue with you about it?—"

"We're discussing, not arguing. And I still want to see you because I miss you like crazy."

Completely bummed, I reply, "Miss you, too."

I hate that I won't be able to help her move into her dorm. It's kind of a rite of passage for every freshman. Their first real experience with college. A new beginning. One I got to share with Dad, like the passing of a ceremonial torch from father to son. Doesn't matter if he never went to college. It's the symbolism of it, when parents cut that invisible cord and let their kid go off into the great unknown called adulthood.

"How about in two weeks, I come see you. We can go to the beach, hang out for the weekend. Maybe Fallon can come with us." She makes a dirty hum.

I'm not even going to ask what she's thinking because it's more than likely pornographic. April has a huge crush on Fallon. Something about every time she sees him, her ovaries explode. Makes me cringe.

"I'd love that."

There's a low rumble of an engine and the faint squeal of old brakes.

"Triple A just showed up. Talk later?"

"Of course. Be safe. Love you."

She smacks a kiss. "Love you back."

I tap the corner of my phone to my chin. Dammit. I'm pissed. How can a woman who wants nothing to do with me still disrupt my life? I should show up unannounced just to stick it to her.

"Elijah."

I jump when Director Winters says my name.

Shaking off thoughts of my mother, I tie a towel around my waist and tuck my phone underneath to free up my hands.

"I was about to come to your office."

His head tilts slightly as his gaze peruses my face. Ever since the Justin incident last year when I got the crap beat out of me in the men's restroom, Director Winters has become like a quasi-surrogate father figure, a role my real dad appreciates. If Dad could bubble wrap me for all eternity, he would. I'll probably be the same with my kids, wanting to shield them from all the ugliness in the world.

He twirls a plastic wrist coil laden with keys around one finger. "Can you come in on Saturday to help Matt do inventory? Patti will be out for the rest of the week."

Considering I'm no longer driving to Durham, I may as well make some extra money.

"You're in luck because my weekend plans just got canceled. What time do you need me here?"

He hands me the keys. "Around lunchtime. Matt can do it on his own, but it'll be quicker with two people."

I snake my hand through the stretchy ring, wearing it like a bracelet. "No problem. I'll be here."

Jayson comes out of the locker room, slowing his gait when he sees Director Winters.

The man must have eyes in the back of his head because he looks over his shoulder and says, "You're gapping your fingers on your left hand. If you correct it, you could shave another three-tenths off your time."

Jayson's torso hunches as he scrapes the toe of his flip-flop across the concrete floor. "Yes, Coach."

Coach? I can't stop the grin from forming. There may be hope for him yet.