Total pages in book: 102
Estimated words: 98652 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 493(@200wpm)___ 395(@250wpm)___ 329(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 98652 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 493(@200wpm)___ 395(@250wpm)___ 329(@300wpm)
“What else happened, sweetie?”
“Yakshit is going to the dance with Brittany.”
“What dance?”
“The Sadie Hawkins dance.”
“Isn’t that a dance where the girls invite the boys?”
“Yeah.”
“I didn’t even know you asked Yakshit to go with you.”
The tears spilled over. “I didn’t.”
“Oh, honey.” I pulled Izzy into a hug.
She tried her best to hide the sobs. There was no sound, yet her shoulders started to shake. We stayed that way for a solid ten minutes—her sobbing and letting me hold her. I hated the cause and her pain, but I was happy I could give her whatever comfort she would allow.
When she sniffled the end of her tears, I pushed the damp hair from her face. “What can I do to make you feel better?”
“I just want to eat and go to bed.”
Hunter had retreated to the kitchen, I assumed to give us some privacy. I looked over at him with an apologetic face just as he looked up from his phone.
“Hi, Hunter.” Izzy forced a smile. “I wore my J-strap today at practice. Thanks for sending it.”
He nodded. “No problem. Hope it helps.”
Izzy noticed what I was wearing. “Are you guys going on a date?”
I answered “no” at the exact same moment Hunter answered “yes”. That made her smile.
She got up from the couch, finally removing her backpack before heading to the refrigerator. “What’s there to eat?”
Hunter answered. “You like Italian food?”
Her spirit chirped up. “Nat made sauce?”
I walked to the kitchen. “No, sorry. I made you a turkey and avocado wrap.”
She tried to mask her disappointment. “That’s okay.”
“Come on. Leave that wrap for lunch tomorrow,” Hunter said. “Let’s go get some lasagna and meatballs.”
“Really?” Izzy’s eyes sparked a glimmer of happiness.
He looked at me while answering. “I don’t fool around about food.”
“Do I need to change?”
“Nope. You’ll be the prettiest girl in the room, even after basketball practice.”
Lord, I swooned. The only thing sweeter than his compliments to me was him giving one to my Izzy.
* * *
“These are as good as Nanna Rossi’s.” Izzy shoveled another meatball into her mouth and spoke with it full. “Don’t tell her I said that.”
“I won’t. As long as your room is cleaned every Sunday before we go for dinner.” Nothing like a little bribery.
“I’ll just deny I said it.”
I pointed my fork across the table at Hunter. “I have a witness.”
Hunter shook his head. “I didn’t hear anything. Did you say something, kid?”
Izzy showed off her dimples while shaking her head. “Nope. Didn’t say a word.”
The two of them had been teaming up against me since we left the apartment. I didn’t mind, especially since it seemed to take Izzy’s mind off her terrible day.
“Are you Italian, too, Hunter?”
He nodded. “I am.”
“Did your mom do a big Sunday night dinner like Nanna Rossi?”
“No, she didn’t. My mom was sick a lot when I was growing up.”
“Oh. Mine was, too. She had cancer.” Izzy had surprised me a lot today with all of her openness. “Did your mom die?”
“Izzy.” I tried to gently remind her of her manners. “That’s not really dinner conversation.”
“It’s alright. I don’t mind,” Hunter said, turning his attention back to Izzy. “She died when I was seventeen.”
“Was she sick for a long time? My mom was only sick for, like, a year. She had small cell bronchial carcinoma—they call it oat cell cancer. Barely anyone gets it unless they smoked. My mom never smoked.”
Small cell bronchial carcinoma shouldn’t roll off a fifteen-year-old’s tongue so smoothly.
“My mom was sick for a lot of years. But she didn’t go to the doctor. She didn’t take care of herself.”
Izzy held up her hand to show off her charm bracelet. She wore it every day. “This was my mom’s. My dad bought her most of these.” She fingered through the collection of dangling charms until she found the pearl-colored ribbon. “Nat bought me this one last year on my mom’s birthday. It’s the ribbon that represents lung cancer. Is there a ribbon for what your mom had?”
Hunter looked down at his own wrist. “Not that I know of. But my mom made this bracelet.” He wore a beautiful, braided leather band with a thin silver rope entwined through it. I’d noticed it before. “She used to do a lot of craft projects when she couldn’t get out of bed.”
God, this was the strangest date ever. We were sitting in a fancy, romantic restaurant with a fifteen-year-old, discussing death. And … it wasn’t even supposed to be a date.
Izzy frowned. “Yakshit’s mom died early, too. She wouldn’t go to doctors, either.”
Hunter and I exchanged glances. “Sounds like you two are close,” he said.
“We were. Until he decided to go to the dance with Brittany.”
Izzy so rarely allowed me access to her emotions. I jumped on the opportunity to understand what was going on in her teenage head.