Page 13 of Play For Me

But I don’t say any of that to my grandfather. What would be the point? I never had any chance with a girl like that.

She’s not what’s important right now anyway. The only things I should be focusing on are my classes, my clinicals, and graduating with my master’s in two years. Not some unattainable girl who probably forgot all about me the second I walked away from her.

Or, worse, judged the hell out of my rude behavior and decided I wasn’t someone she wanted to see again.

Stop, I tell myself, fighting back the exhaustion that has been threatening to take me down since the party.Just stop.

“I’ll get there,” I tell my grandpa, since I know it’s what he wants to hear. “Might be a few rough days at the beginning, but I can get through it.”

He’s quiet for a moment, long enough to make me nervous. “Maybe it would help to talk to someone?—”

“Red.”

He ignores the warning in my tone.

“It doesn’t have to be a big deal, Sol. I’m sure the university could recommend someone.”

“I don’t need a shrink.” Just thinking about it has cold sweat gathering on the back of my neck. Sitting in a little room with someone, knowing they were observing me, wondering if they could see through my attempts at keeping my shit together—absolutely not.

And what would be the point? I already know they’d recommend testing.

Diagnoses. A label.

I don’t want it. I don’tneedit. I’ve gotten this far without going through all that bullshit and I’ve done okay. I’m four semesters away from graduating at the top of my class in a highly competitive program. The last thing I want to do right now is rock the boat.

“There’s no shame in it,” Red presses. “Just because your parents didn’t think?—”

“Seriously,” I cut in, because I absolutely do not want to gothereright now. “I’m not interested. I have a good handle on things.”

I can feel his gaze on the side of my face but I refuse to look over. Finally, he sighs. “Okay, Sol. Whatever you’re comfortable with.” His hand lands on my shoulder once again, giving that firm pressure that usually helps to calm me. “But I want you to let me know if anything gets too difficult. Okay?”

“Sure,” I say, trying to keep my voice light, knowing there’s no way in hell I’m ever going to confess to him—or anyone—when things are too hard.

“And make sure you get your ass out here every few weeks,” he goes on, and I get the feeling he’s doing a little bullshitting of his own right now, trying to sound easier than he really feels. “Getting on a horse is good for your soul.”

At least we can agree on that, I think, as I nudge Solitaire with my knees and start to guide him back down the hills to the barn.

FIVE

CECELIA

“I can’t believe you’re already brawling at frat parties.” My brother Will looks like he can’t decide whether to laugh or be dismayed by us. “You’re only what, a week into the semester?”

“Oh, it’s worse than that,” Ash cuts in, reaching for a bowl of chips in the center of the table. “The brawl happenedbeforethe first day of class, so technically, the semester hadn’t even begun.”

“It wasn’t a brawl,” I mutter, but no one seems to be listening to me. Par for the course around here.

It’s not that my family is intentionally ignoring me. It’s just that there’s too damn many of us to make your voice heard most of the time. And this afternoon is about as chaotic as it gets.

A weekend lunch get-together is a long-standing tradition in our family. Our parents rotate hosting duties and everyone who happens to be in town gathers to eat a bunch of food, catch up, play with the babies, and, once the sun goes down, sit around a fire and play music.

I’d been tempted to skip this week, knowing we were going to hear endless shit about the party mishap, but my brother Will and his wife Eva are finally back in town after a publicity tour for Eva’s new album release, and I haven’t seen him in ages.

Which is why I’m now sitting at a crowded patio table in my parents’ back yard. And, just as I expected, everyone is giving us shit.

“What I want to know,” my Uncle Reed says, glaring at his youngest daughter across the patio table in our backyard. “Is what the hell you were doing at a frat party in the first place?”

Vega rolls her eyes. “Give me a break, Daddy. I’m twenty years old. I’m a junior in college.”