Page 81

When I reach the giant old house Becca lives in, my heartbeat has stabilized. My vision has cleared. It’s nearly dinnertime and already semi-dark out. The big tree in the yard casts creepy shadows across the lawn, the shape of its bare branches stretching like gnarled fingers. They flit across my skin as I walk to the door.

I still don’t know which doorbell is for Becca’s unit, so I ring them all. I don’t think I could focus on the little letters on my phone screen enough to call her or send a text.

I wait almost a whole minute before I hear footsteps on the other side. The lock clicks, and then the big, old-fashioned handle turns. Becca is revealed inch by inch. Her face goes from surprised to elated to concerned in a couple of seconds.

“Hope.” She steps forward and reaches for me. I go rigid. “What’s wrong?”

“I—I—”

I try to summon up some deathly calm to put in my voice again, but none comes. There’s a lump in my throat I can’t swallow, and all I manage to do is stutter.

“Hope, hey. It’s okay. Whatever it is, it’s okay.”

She folds me into a hug but lets go when I keep standing there like a statue, my arms glued to my sides. When she pulls back, I can see the traces of panic in her face, the widening eyes and trembling lips that are starting to look more and more like guilt.

“Hope...”

“Did you date somebody on the team before me?” I wish I sounded stronger, less desperate. My voice is hoarse and uneven, almost squeaky. It’s pathetic.

Becca blinks—one, twice, and then she presses her lips into a tight line and closes her eyes for a second.

“Yes,” she whispers.

“And did you date Kala? In high school? She’s your ex?”

Her chin starts to shake. “Yes, but—”

Now it’s me squeezing my eyes shut. I just want to erase this moment. I want it all to fade like a dream.

“I really don’t want to hear the but right now, Becca,” I interrupt. “Just tell me it’s true. Tell me you’ve dated a teammate before and that Kala is your ex.”

I look at her again. Her already pale skin has turned a pasty white.

“Yes, that’s true,” she says, so low I almost have to read her lips.

“And you didn’t think I needed to know any of that?”

“Hope, I wanted to tell you. I’ve been figuring out how to tell you. I wanted to make everything okay first. I wanted to make sure it wasn’t going to be like last time. I wanted to make sure I didn’t lose—”

“The team,” I cut in. “Yeah, I get it. The team is important, I know, but what about me, Becca? Where exactly did I fit into all this for you?”

“I wasn’t going to say the team.”

Her eyes bore into mine, and my traitor heart skips a beat, but that look is not enough to change anything.

“If you were concerned about losing me, did it ever occur to you to just tell me the truth? To let me be part of figuring it out? Or did you just not think I was capable of that?”

“Hope, that is not it at all.”

I don’t give her a chance to continue. “How did you think this was going to go? Were you even going to tell me about Kala before I met her? Were you really just going to let me walk into that blind? Do you know how stupid it makes me feel that I had to hear all this from someone else? Everyone’s been talking about us. Everyone suspected something was going on, and somehow, I’m the last person to find out you’ve dated a teammate before, and that you’re the whole reason we can’t date teammates now. I don’t even care all that much about your history, Becca. I really don’t, but I do fucking care that you didn’t tell me about it, and I want to know why.”

When I finally stop, I’m panting. My shoulders are so tense they’re shaking from the strain. Becca isn’t moving at all. She doesn’t even blink as she watches me with the frozen horror of somebody staring at a ghost. I almost want to ask her if she’s okay. Almost.

“I—I—” She starts to stammer after a moment. Her voice is just a whisper. “I didn’t want it to happen again. I was s-scared.”

“And you thought hiding everything from me was the answer?” I’m not shouting anymore. Now I just sound cold.

Part of me wants to throw my arms around her and tell her it’s all going to be okay, but I don’t know that. I don’t know how we’re going to make any of this okay, especially when she can barely talk to me about it, even now.