Page 88 of Game Misconduct

“She’s our mom.”

“And that doesn’t mean you have to let her walk all over you.” He lifts his chin, his eyes hard. “The best thing I ever did for my mental health was put up walls and not let her trample all over them. Finally putting some distance between us.”

“I’m not like you. I don’t need distance.”

“Elsy and I never would have stayed together if I hadn’t worked on myself first. We still have to work at things. I’m not magically healed and whole.”

“I’m not broken. I’m fine.”

He makes a noise of dissent deep in his throat. “Okay, B. But don’t let her get to you. Don’t let her poison this thing you and Mitchell have.”

“You can’t even say his name without grimacing,” I taunt.

“Rebecca Lynn,” he says, and the pain in his voice makes my stomach clench. “If what you have with Mitchell is the real deal, don’t let Mom get in the way. Don’t let her ruin your chance at happiness.”

“She has nothing to do with it.” I can hear the lie in my voice; can he?

“I’ve seen the way she talks to you. The way she talks at you. The kinds of things she says…” He lets out a low whistle. “Nobody deserves to be talked to that way. Nobody.”

My eyes sting, and a tickle springs up in the back of my nose. Logically, I know what she’s saying isn’t nice or kind. But how do I tell my mother she’s my biggest bully? How do I stand up to her? Her voice runs on a never-ending loop in the back of my head, repeating all the negative thoughts I can’t hide from.

I have no problem sticking up for my friends. To defend them against anyone trying to hurt them. Hell, I have no issues intervening if I see a stranger in trouble.

So why can’t I stand up for myself? Why am I so powerless against her?

“Just think about it, B. I love you. I want what’s best for you. And I want to see you thrive.”

“I’m doing my best,” I mutter.

“I know you are. And you’re doing great. But think about how much better you could be.”

Swallowing against the lump in my throat, I do my best to listen. To pay attention.

“I… I think I need to call my therapist.”

This shouldn’t wait until my session in two weeks. This can’t wait. Because Wyatt’s right. If Nick and I have a chance, I need to make sure my usual self-destructive tendencies don’t rear their ugly heads and make a mess of things.

My friends also accuse me of hurting others before they can hurt me. But what they don’t understand is that I lash out because I’m convinced they’re going to hurt me in the first place.

Because the person who’s supposed to love me the most, who’s supposed to love me unconditionally, has never had a nice thing to say about me. Because my brain expects the criticism rather than love and support.

Wyatt raps his knuckles twice on my desk. “That’s a great place to start.”

Right then, a knock sounds on my open door, and Vanessa pokes her head in.

“Hey, Wy. Thought I heard your voice,” she says. She comes to give him a hug. “How’s Elsy doing?”

“Good, good.” He runs a hand through his hair. “Larsson around?”

I grin. Sven’s hated my brother ever since he gave Vanessa a hug back when she and Sven were fake dating. No matter how many times they both insist they were just being friendly, Wyatt tries to keep his distance from the grumpy forward.

Of course, after that hug, Sven kissed Vanessa on national television to stake his claim, and they’ve been officially official ever since.

And now they’re married. With a baby. And trying for another.

I love their love story. I love that he got another chance with the one who got away. And most of all, I love that they’re still one hundred and ten percent in love, and don’t care who knows it.

“Sven’s in the weight room,” Van says. “It’s good to see you. Give Elsy my love. Maybe we can all get together when we’re in Austin next month.”