“I’m being serious.”
“I’ve had year-round, round-the-clock professional help,” I said, pressing the side of my face into my pillow. “This is the best they could do.”
I felt River turn on his side to face me and scoot closer. The warmth of him grew stronger. His head lay close to mine. All I’d have to do was turn over and…
We’d make the same mistake all over again.
“Holden…?”
“Stop worrying,” I said. “I’ll be fine, and our brief affair will become a distant memory. You’ll see me from across the quad at school one day and think to yourself, ‘There goes Holden Parish. Nice fellow. Once put my dick in his mouth.’”
River pressed his forehead between my shoulder blades. “Christ.”
I chuckled and then wanted to cry as he wrapped his arms around me, pulling my back tight to his chest. I held his arms that held me.
“You sure?” he asked hoarsely.
“It’s better this way,” I whispered, my eyes falling shut.
“Then why does it feel like shit?”
“That’s a catch-22. The solution to our dilemma is inherent in the problem itself.”
&nb
sp; “Which is?”
“We both want something we can never have,” I said as sleep dragged me down on vodka fumes. “A normal life.”
Part III
Chapter Fourteen
March
“They’re here,” Dad said, a grin splitting his face. He held up four large envelopes. “Texas, Auburn, Alabama, and Michigan. Call me crazy, but rejection slips are never this heavy.”
He dropped them on the dining room table like a conquering hero bringing home the spoils. Mom was just finishing dessert—a tiny wedge of apple pie—while Amelia and I cleaned up the dinner plates.
“That’s quite a haul,” Mom said to me when I returned from the kitchen. “I’m so proud of you, sweetheart.”
Her voice was tired, as if she’d just woken up. Since Christmas, she’d been coasting on relatively good health, though she still had good days and bad. Today was bad. She had a check-up with her oncologist in a few days. The dread of what he might say hung over the house like a cloud that Dad tried to keep from choking us with his enthusiasm.
“We need all the good news we can get,” he’d told me that afternoon as I helped him at the auto shop. “Your mom wants to know, more than anything, that your future is secure.”
Mom wants us to be happy, I’d thought then and again as he fanned out my future on the table in front of us.
“Well?” Dad said. “Which do you want to open first? I say we save Alabama for last.”
“Sure,” I said, smiling weakly.
During our college application process, we’d discussed which school would be the best fit for my career prospects and the University of Alabama came out on top. Because of course it did. It was Dad’s alma mater. He was getting a second chance at the life he wanted, through me. His excitement broke my heart a little.
“I hope, gentleman,” Mom said, “you spare some thought for River’s actual education when it comes to the final decision.”
“Of course,” Dad said, tearing into an envelope like a kid on Christmas day. “Alabama has a distinguished academic program.”
“Good. Our son is too smart to leave everything on the football field.” She turned to me. “What do you think you’ll major in, honey?”