Page 71 of Play For Me

“Dealing with mental shit is hard.” I gesture to the bags she brought in. “Being vulnerable in front of someone else is hard.” I force myself to meet her eyes so she can see how serious I am. “But everyone needs to ask for help sometimes.”

She studies my face for a long moment before she finally nods. “Fine.” She lets out another sigh. “If you can accept my help to feel better after dealing with your bitch of a mother, I can tell the staff I need help too.” She fiddles with the string of her hoodie. “Will you go with me?”

“Of course I will.”

Our eyes meet again, and this time the emotion that passes between us feels heavier, more intense. I don’t realize that I’m leaning down towards her until she pulls herself back, giving herhead a little shake like she’s trying to clear it. “Okay, let’s get going on these Legos, yeah?”

I lean back into my own chair, running a hand through my hair as I try to settle my galloping heartbeat. “Yeah. Let’s do that.”

The kitshe bought is a mini baseball field. “They didn’t have anything soccer. Pathetic.”

“You know,” I tell her as I carefully arrange the numbered plastic bags in the right order, “baseball is pretty cool too.”

“Oh, that reminds me.” She reaches into one of her shopping bags and takes out a newspaper. “I pulled the sports section out of one of the papers in the lobby. Apparently, there was some big baseball game last night? That has all the stats.” She hands me the paper. “I remember you said you liked baseball stats.”

I stare down at the paper, feeling ridiculously touched. I don’t know why this in particular is hitting me so hard. Everything she’s done tonight has been proof of her going out of her way for me.

But the rest of it were things Jay told her. The food and the LEGO kit and the Sprite came from him. But the newspaper was all Cecelia, based on something I’d told her weeks ago.

I have to clear my throat before I can talk. “Yeah, it’s playoffs. Lots of big games.” I swallow. “Thanks.”

“No worries,” she says easily, like she hadn’t just completely blown me away. She reaches for one of the LEGO bags.

“We’re only opening the first one,” I say automatically.

She gives me an adorable little scowl. “You say that like I was about to tear into all of them at once.”

“You absolutely were.”

She sticks out her tongue at me and reaches for the instructions. “Fine. We’ll be totally organized and boring.”

We don’t talk for a few minutes, getting the pieces laid out and looking over the instructions. “Do you like quiet while you’re doing this or do you want music or something?” she asks, eventually. “Or we could watch a movie? I brought my laptop.”

“Music would be good,” I say, even though I’d be perfectly content to sit here and listen to her breathe for the next twelve hours.

She takes out her phone and pulls up a streaming app. A moment later, something upbeat and poppy fills the room. She doesn’t even look at me before holding up a hand. “Don’t say a word. I like cheesy pop sometimes. I live with Vega.” She gives me a mischievous little smile. “And don’t youdaretell my dad.”

The mention of her dad brings me back to the FaceTime call I’d witnessed earlier. “Does your family always watch your games?”

“My mom and dad do. Usually my brothers, too. My aunts and uncles come to plenty of my games but they’re not really sports people.” She smiles to herself. “Neither is my dad. All four of his kids have played soccer and he still couldn’t explain off-sides to you if his life depended on it. He says his brain just doesn’t work that way.”

“I guess having a brain wired to be a rock God is a pretty good consolation.”

She laughs. “Right?” She slides a little pile of green bricks my way before moving to another color. “He came to every match though, for all four of us. Even though he didn’t really get it, he was still there. And when he was on tour or doing something with the band, he would stream them or get my mom to FaceTime him.”

She smiles down at the pieces she’s working on. “One time, when Silas was playing in high school, Dad had a concert duringregionals. He had a roadie coming out after every song to give him updates. It went to a penalty kick and Dad made them stop the show so he could go back stage and watch on his phone.”

I wait for the jealousy to kick in, like it usually does when people with decent parents describe their relationships. But I don’t feel the familiar pang. I’m happy that Cecelia had that kind of upbringing. She deserves to have a family that gives a shit.

And listening to her talk is dissipating the fallout symptoms of yesterday’s panic attack better than any breathing exercise I’ve ever done.

I wonder if she gets that, on some level. If that’s the reason she keeps up a steady flow of conversation in her calm, even voice.

She tells me about what their tours were like, how when her brothers and older cousins were kids, they basically lived in a tour bus traveling the country together. By the time Cecelia and the cousins I know came along, the Ransomes started focusing more on their record label so they could spend more time in one place. But they still tour occasionally or set up long-term residencies in bigger cities.

“So, yeah, I’ve been to a shit ton of concerts,” she says, laughing a little. “And then my brother Silas and some of the cousins started a band, and they’re touring right now. Oh, and my brother Will is married to Eve Lidell—Eva. They tour together, too.”

I look around the room and can’t help laughing a little. “This must seem so lame to you. Sitting in a hotel room playing a kid’s game when you’re probably used to whatever glamorous shit rock stars do on tour.”