I sighed, not wanting to go there. Just the thought of what Dallin had said made me shudder. “Nothing.”
“You’re not going to tell me?”
I held up a fist. “I’ll play you for it.”
“Play me for it?”
“Rock, paper, scissors. Winner gets a secret.” I was willing to risk that for the chance at asking him a question. I had a couple I really wanted answered.
He smiled. “Okay.”
“Best two out of three?” I asked.
“Sure.”
He won the first hand with a rock that crushed my scissors. I growled, then got ready again. The second hand I went with paper, and he did a rock again. Now it was a tie. I looked at him. He’d done two rocks in a row. Would he do it a third time? He gave me a calm stare, not giving anything away. Dax was unpredictable, so he’d go with something different. Although, more unpredictable would be if he did the same for a third time.
“One, two, three,” I said and held out a paper. He was holding a rock again. “Ha! I won.”
“You did,” he said, seeming impressed.
“Who knew you were so bad at this game?”
“Have you been practicing smack talk?”
“Only because you keep losing. I’m getting plenty of practice.”
He smirked and grabbed hold of the rail over his head again. “What’s your question?”
My eyes went to his left arm. His tattoo. Tattoo or Susanna? Tattoo or Susanna? “Why haven’t you sent that letter in your book to Susanna?” I asked.
His smile fell. “Because . . .” He put his hands through his hair. “Ugh. You’re a horrible person, you know that?” He said it with a smile so I just nodded.
“Yes, I am.”
He held his hand forward, palm up. “You see this?”
My eyes went to his tattoo. “Yes.”
“This was our very last court date. My mom had had months to change. Went through three different drug rehab programs, six court dates, two hospitalizations. And as we sat there in court, me on one side, her on the other, the judge asked her if she was choosing meth over her son. She was. It’s the last time I ever spoke to her.”
“She lost her rights to you that day?”
He gave a short nod.
“I’m sorry, Dax.”
“I already told you, it was the day I finally let go. I’m free.”
I didn’t believe him any more today than I had the first time he’d said it. Everyone needs someone they can count on. “And the letter?”
“Is everything I still need her to answer.”
“Susanna is your mother?”
“Yes.”
“So why can’t you send it?”
“Because she’ll think I’m trying to reconnect, and I’m not.”
“What are you trying to do?”
“Get basic information that kids with parents have about themselves.”
“Why do you care what she’ll think, then?”
“I don’t.”
“Then send it.”
“I will.” He looked up at me through his lashes. “And you just got way too much information for that win.”
I had so many follow-up questions, but I let them go for now. Despite the fact that he looked completely calm, I understood how emotionally draining talking about things like that could be. “I totally did.”
“Are you going to make me win my question now?”
I fake sighed. “I guess not. Since technically you answered two. What was your question again?”
“This morning . . . ?”
“Oh right. This morning . . .” Spit it out, Autumn. He just told you what happened on the worst day of his life; you can tell him this. “Dallin told me that I was the reason Jeff was in the hospital.”
“Who’s Dallin?” he asked, his eyes hardening.
“Jeff’s best friend.”
“And why would he think something so idiotic?”
“Because I’m always leaving or finding a place to hide or going into a corner at parties, and he said that Jeff always felt the need to go running after me. And he was doing that again when he crashed into the river—running after me. Dallin basically hates me now.”
“Then you told him about your anxiety?”
“No. I didn’t want to use it as a defense. To make it seem like I was making excuses. And I really don’t want them to treat me differently.”
“That’s a stupid argument.”
“Thanks.”
“You told me.”
“But my friends aren’t you.”
“What does that mean?”
“You’ve . . . you’ve seen things they haven’t. I’m worried they won’t understand.”
“Maybe you should trust them.”
“But I have no idea how they’ll react.”
He nodded slowly.
“What?”
“You mean you can’t control how they’ll react. You’re worried they won’t like you.”
I picked a flaky piece of paint off the rail by my head. “Yeah.”
“You need to tell them.”
“I will when you send your letter.”
He gave a short nod. “Well played.”
The breeze coming in from the still-open door picked up and I shivered.
“My ears are cold,” I said.
One side of his mouth lifted into a half smile, but he didn’t move.