“What the hell is that, Mom? I don’t want anything from her.”
“Please, Slade. You need to read it.” I heard her pacing in the hallway. She did that when she was stressed. “I would never read your mail, but this was addressed to me by accident. I only read the first few lines then I put it back in the envelope. She mixed up the envelopes, Slade. She meant to send the checks to me and this letter to you.” I heard her sigh. “It was mixed in with some junk mail. I just now found it.”
I tossed a Hacky Sack at my ceiling, caught it, then tossed it back up. “Not interested.”
She was still in the hallway; I could sense her presence.
“Go away, Mom.”
“Just read it, Slade. Give her another chance. She never wanted the deal. Mrs. Gonzales and I practically forced her into it.”
I snorted. “Nobody forces her to do anything.”
Mom wrenched open the door and stalked into my room, hands on her hips. “Slade Edmunds, I know you’re angry at me, and you have every right to be. But don’t tell me you don’t still care about Trina. I don’t believe it.”
“Oh, I care. The same way I care about serial killers.”
She bent over to retrieve the envelope, threw it at me, and left the room, slamming the door behind her.
The envelope landed on my chest. It felt like it weighed a hundred pounds, pressing down on my already broken heart.
I picked it up and looked at her familiar writing. Something inside me softened a tiny bit, but I reminded myself for the millionth time how she’d betrayed me. Deceived me. Stolen my heart then crushed it into a thousand pieces. I shredded the envelope and threw it in my trash can.
That was the final communication I’d ever have with Trina.
Chapter Forty-Six
Slade
Monday, July 22
“Way to go, asshole.” Alex threw a basketball at me, hitting me square on the chest. I flung it back at him, but he dodged it. It was late and we were in the basement gym of the club. The pool had closed and hardly anyone was around.
He stalked toward me. “You really aren’t going to talk to Trina? Not even give her a chance to tell you whatever it is Desi says she needs to tell you?”
“Desi’s full of it,” I said, grabbing another basketball and hurling it at Alex. He batted it away and closed the gap between us. “She’s just sticking up for her best friend. Why’d you even bother talking to her?”
“Don’t talk that way about Desi.” He glared at me. “What the hell is wrong with you? If Trina’s driving you this crazy, don’t you think maybe you should talk to her?”
“She is not driving me crazy. I’m done with her.” Even as I said the words, they cut me deep inside, pissing me off. I’d been doing my best to numb all my feelings since Mom had told me about her bullshit deal.
I hated how I couldn’t stop thinking about Trina. I wanted her out of my mind, and out of my heart.
Alex shoved me, bringing me back to the present. “Really? This is you, done with Trina? Great.” He snorted. “I can hardly wait to see you when you’re done with the next girl you fall in—”
I shoved him back. “There’s not going to be a ‘next girl.’”
His lip curled in a sneer. “Good. Since you totally suck at being a decent boyfriend.”
I didn’t realize I had him in a headlock until he’d wiggled out of it and flipped me to the ground. We rolled around on the floor, clawing and tearing at each other, grunting like wild animals. All the anger and frustration of the past two weeks boiled up and out of me. My anger with Alex for telling Trina about the bet. My anger at Trina and my mom.
For every punch and kick I threw, Alex gave it right back to me. We reeked of sweat and whatever rage smelled like. But we didn’t stop. We called each other the worst names we could think of, and the names we thought of were pretty foul.
After what seemed like hours, Alex finally rolled away from me, panting and exhausted.
“Okay,” He lay on his back, breathing heavily and staring at the ceiling. “Now we can have a conversation.”
“Fuck you,” I gasped, kneeling on the ground with my head between my arms.
He dug into in his backpack then threw something that bounced off my head.
I picked it up, staring in shock. “What the hell? Is this your cup? You threw your fucking jockstrap at me?”
His laughter echoed off the walls, and I let myself join him, as the knot in my stomach finally loosened.
“I’m starving,” he said.
“You’re buying, asshole.”
“Deal.”
After we showered and ate enormous burritos at Chipotle, Alex and I stood in the parking lot saying good-bye. He had spent our whole meal trying to convince me to forgive Trina, or at least listen to her.