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“Hear me out.” I unfolded my legs and leaned toward him. “Dr. Yvonne told me once that it’s not unusual for people to have what she called misplaced anger.”

“Trust me, my anger for Lance is not misplaced. He’s the one who ruined my knee.” He put up one finger. “He’s the one who stole my position on the team.” Another finger. “And he’s the one who got the scholarship that was supposed to be mine.” The third and final finger.

I nodded, remembering all of that clearly, but as torn up as Lance was, I didn’t believe that Lance hurt Quinton on purpose.

In fact, what Quinton didn’t know was that Lance was going to turn down the scholarship, but I convinced him to take it.

So many times, I’d come close to telling him, but the fear of losing him or him hating me always stopped me.

And now, years later, that still hadn’t changed.

It wasn’t like Quinton would get it if Lance didn’t.

Quinton’s knee was too damaged. He needed therapy for a while before anyone would even think of putting him back on the field.

The fact that he hated Lance and not me told me that Lance was true to his word and didn’t tell Quinton about our talk.

Not that Quinton would’ve listened to anything Lance had to say.

“I know you think that all your anger is about Lance, and maybe some of it is, but I believe a big part of it is for your mom, not Lance.”

“What? You think I’m angry at Renee?” he asked.

“Yes. You call her Renee. You can’t even call her Mom or Mama,” I pointed out.

“Because she’s never been a mom or a mama. That doesn’t mean I’m angry with her. Renee and I have a very good relationship.”

Maybe he believed his words, but I didn’t.

Not for a second. I moved from the recliner and sat next to him on the sofa.

“There was a time when we used to share everything. We admitted our deepest feelings to each other, knowing that that’s where they would always stay. Between us. Remember that?” I asked.

“Of course I do.”

“I know you hated that your mom was never there for you. And you hated that she always chose her boyfriends over you.”

He squirmed uncomfortably. “What does any of this have to do with Lance?”

“I also know that getting that scholarship and playing college ball was your way of proving to her that you were special too. All you could talk about back then was her seeing you play on TV. You wanted her to see you as successful. Then, when Lance accidentally ran into your knee, you were angry because that chance of her seeing you as this big-time football player was gone. You blamed Lance, but you and I know that Lance would never hurt you on purpose.”

Quinton stared straight ahead. His tense and rigid shoulders slumped. He lowered his head. And that was when I knew he heard me, and he knew I was right.

“You have to find a way to let go of whatever you’ve been holding against Lance all these years and deal with the real issue. You need to fix things with your mom before it’s too late.”

Sitting with Quinton reminded me of the deep connection we once shared.

The familiarity tugged at my heart and stirred a sweet feeling of comfort.

It reminded me of all the times we’d sat and had deep, and sometimes not so deep, conversations that lasted well into the night.

Our relationship may have changed, but what could never change was the history and love we once shared.

Car lights shined through the window, and I figured Mama was back early.

There was a knock on the door. Quinton and I glanced at each other.

His brow furrowed slightly before he went to the door.

I walked behind him. I didn’t know what to expect when I saw Lance.

I hoped his presence didn’t undo the breakthrough I’d hoped I’d made with Quinton.

Lance looked around Quinton at me. “Hey,” he said. “Can I come in?”

Quinton’s posture was rigid, which wasn’t a good sign. There was a moment of hesitation before he moved aside so Lance could step inside.

As Lance walked over to me. I caught Quinton’s gaze.

His light-brown eyes were filled with questions, and his downturned lips hinted at the discomfort he still had when Lance was around.

Quinton crossed his arms over his chest. His T-shirt pulled tight across his shoulders while his eyes stayed on Lance.

“I guess your mom thought you were here alone.” He looked back at Quinton.

“She asked if I’d come by and check on you.

While she was at the game, she got a call that Ms. Cora was rushed to the hospital.

It doesn’t look good. Your mom and Ms. Pearl are on their way there.

The sheriff’s out of town, so they didn’t want Ms. Cora to be alone. ”

“Oh my God. Poor Ms. Cora. Poor Mama.” I put my hands over my mouth, hoping with everything in me that Ms. Cora would be okay. She and Mama were closer than friends. They were like sisters, and it would break Mama’s heart to lose her longest and dearest friend.

“I can stay here with you until she gets back if you want,” Lance said, keeping his gaze on me.

I nodded, then looked over at Quinton. I wasn’t sure what his reaction would be to me being alone with Lance, but I hoped he didn’t make a big deal of it because after the night I had, and now being worried about Ms. Cora and Mama, I didn’t need any more stress.

Lance’s presence brought a sense of calm that I desperately needed.

I hadn’t realized, until that moment, as I stood between Quinton and Lance, just how different I felt around Lance in comparison to Quinton.

Despite how upset I was with him earlier, I still wanted him there with me.

Lance had a way, without saying a word, of making me feel like everything would be okay.

Quinton stepped closer to me and put a hand on my shoulder. “I’m gonna head out.” He leaned down and kissed my forehead. “Thanks for the talk.”

I smiled. “Anytime.”

“That was easier than I expected,” Lance said once Quinton left.

“Yeah,” I agreed, while my mind was still on Mama.

“Listen.” Lance clasped his hands together. “I’m sorry about earlier. I overstepped.”

It wasn’t always easy to forgive someone who hurt you, but I never found it hard to forgive Lance. His words and actions always came from a place of love and concern. They were never meant to hurt me.

I walked closer to him and then leaned my head on his chest.

Lance held me tight. “I got you,” he whispered.

And I believed him because he always did.