“Gwen, you just going to lie there, too?”
She flipped him off, her eyes closed. “Screw you guys for making me play again. I hate lacrosse so much.”
“Why did you play in high school?” I looked toward her.
“Her dad was the coach.” Roy grinned, standing up and putting a water bottle beside me. “You weren’t half bad, Eli.”
“Using my name now, I see.” I finally sat up.
“Don’t get all excited about it.” He frowned, walking away.
Guinevere sighed, turning onto her back and lifting her leg up, trying to stretch it. “I get stiff legs.”
“I know, give them to me,” I said, taking her leg and placing it in my lap.
“Eli—”
“Were you injured while you played?” I asked seriously, pressing on her calves.
Releasing a breath through her nose, she sat up beside me, eyes on her dad, who stood beside her mother, still rubbing in his victory.
“My dad loves lacrosse. He played with his dad, and he played with my brother. So when he passed, I made sure to play, too, no matter what. I got hurt my senior year. Remember Chloe Drake? The woman who was waiting and holding Taigi?”
I nodded.
“She tripped and stepped on my leg.”
I winced at the thought of it. “That’s Chloe with an extra 97 pounds?”
“Yep, and my leg broke. She felt so bad, and everyone teased her about it. It was practice, and I remember secretly telling her that I was kind of thankful because I didn’t have to play anymore.”
“But you still played after you healed, didn’t you?” She didn’t even have to answer, I just knew it. “Are you sure it’s not you who is the rock?” I asked, helping her off the ground, because from where I was looking, it looked like she was bearing a lot of weight on her shoulders.
She grinned. “Never in any of the stories I have ever heard from my father did a person beg for the rock to come.”
“You lost me.” I held her hand, walking back to her family and friends.
“The symbol for rain is the thunderbird, and if you beg hard enough, it sometimes comes. But the rock, no matter how much you beg, will stay in its place, bearing whatever weight is on its shoulders. My father needed some way to make a connection with me after my brother passed. And I came and gave him one. I don’t regret it. Every once in a while my legs get stiff, but I have so many memories of him running to me after a game, cheering at the top of his lungs, lifting me up and spinning me around. It’s not a burden for me.” She smiled, wrapping her hand around my arm. She reached up and kissed the side of my cheek. “You were great, my father just doesn’t like to lose.”
“Gwen.” Masoa held up a water bottle toward her.
She rolled her eyes, knowing he just wanted us to break apart, but went to him anyway.
I couldn't take my eyes off of her as she knocked shoulders with her father and he wrapped his arms around her, telling her something.
It was astonishing how every time I watched her now, it seemed to be in slow motion, my eye wanting to capture every one of her facial expressions, her voice, her movements, to save her in my memory forever. It made me wonder: How did I get here?
When did I start falling for her so badly?
Is that even what I am doing, falling?
And, most importantly, is she too?
Chapter Twenty-Three
Six Little Words
Eli
I was sitting on the porch when a beer materialized right beside my face.
“Thank you,” I said to Masoa.
He sat down beside me, not saying a word.
It was our last night there before heading back. They had prepared a dinner by the lake, and I had even managed to get the campfire going. Just like on the first night, the sky was coated with stars.
Guinevere played with Taigi, chasing him around the campfire. She had spent the day showing me all of Cypress. It had about one of everything: one movie theater, one grocery store, one mall, and in each one, I noticed how they all welcomed her back, either with a hug, a kiss, or free things. Each of them also thanked her for the money she had loaned them; she had even helped fund a new arts center for the high school.
“You do know I still don’t like you, right?” he said to me, opening his can and drawing my attention.
“Yes. Maybe when we come again next time, I’ll convince you more,” I replied, taking a drink.
“Never going to happen,” he muttered.
It took me some time, but I finally just asked him, “Do you mind if I ask you some things?”
“Are they about my daughter?”
“Yes. And you, too.”
“Only if you answer mine.”
Risky. “All right.”
“Ask, then.” He waited.
“How do you know when you’ve fallen in love with someone?”
He was silent for a long time.
“Sorry, I’m not sure who else to ask. My mother, as amazing as she is, doesn’t always help.”