Page 128 of The Fall Classic

Is this what I want?

I want the love and attention, no question.

But do I want them involved with the truck? I shift from one foot to the other, my Chucks too tight on my toes, and then I glance around the room, not looking at Marlowe or my dad. If I look at their smiling, supportive faces, I won’t be able to say no.

My eyes land on my calendar. Next Friday is Ava’s quince.

“I’m sorry, I can’t. That’s the day of Alma’s granddaughter’s quinceañera. I’m helping set up.”

Marlowe’s smile drops for an instant, but it’s back up again before I can blink. “No problem. Why don’t we schedule it for that following Monday instead.”

Logan will already be in Chicago by then.

Somehow, remembering this makes me remember other things, too. Like how no matter how loving Dad and Marlowe are, this is my dream. And I want to be the one who gets to live it.

I hope they’ll want that for me, too, whenever I’m ready to have a hard discussion with them.

But they’re both smiling sweetly at me in my apartment, where they stopped by for no other reason than to say hi.

Yeah, today’s not that day.

“I’ll check my calendar. Send me the details, okay?” I smile, hoping this will suffice. Hoping it will buy me time.

“Of course, sweetie,” Marlowe says, meeting me around the counter and putting a hand on my cheek in a way that sends more fractures along my resolve. “We’ll get out of your hair.”

Dad reaches across the counter to give me a quick hug before turning and escorting Marlowe toward the door. He stops with his hand on the knob. “When did you get the bookshelves?”

“They’re new.”

“You and your books,” Dad says, rapping his knuckles on the door and staring at the shelves and then back at me. “You’re so much like your mother.” He smiles. “See you soon, Georgie Girl. Love you.”

I wave as they leave, wishing my heart weren’t so beat up. Too bad I was the one doing the beating. Dad and Marlowe were so nice. So complimentary. They wanted my input! They want me involved in their big venture! And I put my heart in a cage and just stood there while it threw itself at the bars, trying to break free.

I’m trying to protect you, I think, rubbing my palm over the center of my chest.

If you never want anything, you’ll never be disappointed.

My mind turns to Logan. But you’ll never be happy, either.

***

Logan texts sometime later, after I’ve wrapped up my classwork for the day.

Logan

Finishing up in ten. Don’t worry about picking me up—I’ll run to you.

Georgie

That might be the sweetest thing I’ve ever read.

Logan

Good, because it was definitely intentional on all levels. I’m suave like that. So well-spoken.

I mean well-written.

(Man, that was embarrassing.)