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He hands me my ring. “Have dinner with me, Syn. Not a date.”

“Do you have a place in mind, or should I choose?”

“You pick.”

I slip on the ring. “The diner inside the bowling alley.”

“It’s noisy and there’ll be too many people.”

“Exactly.” I give him a satisfied smile.

He weaves his fingers in my hair, pulls me close, and says near my lips, “You win this round, but next time, I’ll wish for something lessnegotiable.”

“Like what?”

His gaze dips to my lips. “Too many to name off.”

“Don’t think I’ll give away my rings at the first sign of trouble. I refuse to be your crutch. It’s on you to control your temper.”

“Are you saying you want out of your position? I’ll be paying you a shit ton of money.”

“All I’m saying is when you play ball professionally, I won’t be on the sidelines handing you rings left and right.”

He starts the engine. “Who says I want to play ball professionally?”

“It’s all you’ve ever wanted,” I sputter. “That’s been your dream since I’ve known you.”

“My dad’s dream, Syn. I want something different.”

This is a change from four years ago. A horrible, miscalculated change of plans. The reason I kissed another guy, guaranteeing Taron would hate me, was so he could go to Stanford and not be tied down by a relationship.

Taron needed the chance to spread his wings and grow as a person. I would only hold him back from his potential.

“What’s this different?”

“Not ready to tell, Pixie Dust.”

I sigh, understanding the whole “not ready to tell.”

“You sure about the bowling alley?” he asks.

“Yep.”

“Your funeral.” He gets on the road.

The trip won’t take long, and I fill the time with small talk.

“How are your parents?” I miss my mom.

In a way, I miss Beau. When I lived with him, we would exchange snarky comments that bordered on mean and hurtful. Okay, the comments were mean and hurtful, and they came from me and not Beau. That first year living with him was rough. We fought a lot. I yelled. He became a stone wall with his silence and arms crossed over his chest.

Then he introduced me to Gunner, and my hate for Beau and for him leaving my mom for someone prettier slowly changed to mild dislike, and then our contentious father-daughter relationship became friendship.

I’m his only biological child other than Gunner, and seeing that he has more experience with the dating scene than the parenting one, he treats me more like I am one of the guys than his daughter. I don’t mind, seeing myself more as a tomboy.

After I started college, Beau and I kept in touch with texting and FaceTime. His texts and GIFs are so random, plus the fact he left me and my mom, that I have him listed in my contacts as “Bounce.” As for Gary, the man who raised me, I haven’t seen him since I ran away from home. I’m not sure if I want to see him. It’s an awkward conversation I would like to avoid at all costs.

Oh, hi, Dad, I mean my mom’s pimp. The thing is, I miss him too.