“He’s an asshole, but your experience with him taught you a lot about yourself and made you stronger than anyone I know.”
“Yeah, right,” I scoff, picking at a faded flower on the upholstery.
“Listen to me, Bo.” Lo’s firm voice gets my attention. “The struggle made you stronger. Lesson learned. Move on and show the world what a survivor looks like.”
“I just feel haunted by my mistakes,” I whisper, clenching my eyes closed. “And like everyone will see me as weak.”
“Weak?” Lo scoffs. “Fuck ’em. If they haven’t walked in your shoes, haven’t had to fight for their lives and for their kid’s life, haven’t had to survive what you survived, and lived to tell it, they have no room to judge.”
“Lo.” I can’t manage anything more.
“You have Sarai. You have August. You have me. You had MiMi,” she says vehemently. “One person in your life was an asshole, and you evicted him as soon as you could. I’m proud of you.”
The words spread over me like salve, and I can’t speak because of the emotion choking me—because of how much that means.
“I guess August is losing his mind,” Lo says after a few seconds of silence, shifting the subject.
“Pretty much.” I shove my fingers through my tangled hair and sniff. “He was trying really hard to stay calm for my sake, but ‘lose your shit’ was all in his voice.”
“He loves you.”
“Yeah, he does.” I smile wider. “I love him, too.”
“You sound a lot better than I thought you would.”
“I feel better.” I shrug. “It’s like, yes, I hate that people will know, and I don’t know what this will mean for Caleb—his career, endorsements, and all that stuff. He’s so insulated by his money and his father’s power. I don’t think this alone will take him down. I’m more concerned about him pursuing custody of Sarai at some point.”
My phone signals an incoming call.
“Hey, this is August,” I say hastily. “I’ll call you back.”
I click over and settle back on the ugly couch. “August, hey.”
“Hey.” He sounds tired. “I’m on my way.”
“You’re on the plane?” I ask, my voice and my heart lifting.
“Even better. Flight just landed, and I’m in the car. According to navigation, I should be there in like two hours.”
“Thank you, August.” Some of the tightness in my chest loosens knowing he’s coming.
“Babe, don’t thank me. There’s nowhere else I want to be.”
“Wait.” I sit up, frowning, mentally collating dates and information. “Don’t you have a game in San Diego tomorrow night? What time is your flight back out?”
“I’m not flying back tomorrow.” He blows out a weary breath. “I told Deck I needed to take a day, and he agreed. I’m skipping the game.”
“To be . . . to be here with me?”
“I told you if you were ever mine, I’d play you at the five.” The sound of a smile breaks through his voice. “You’re the center, Iris.”
I don’t answer but absorb his promise to me. His devotion to me.
“And we need to talk,” he continues before hesitating. “Maybe you need to talk to someone soon? A counselor or something.”
“I have a counselor,” I answer softly.
“You do? When do you see a counselor? How did I not know that?”
