Page 127 of Play For Me

I sniffle. “Well. That sucks.”

“Yeah. It really does.”

“But what if he can’t take care of himself?” I ask, the fear that I’d felt when I saw his blank face last night rushing through me. “What if his issues are too big for him to fix?”

“Then you have to trust him to ask for help. And trust the people around him to be there.” She pauses. “Does he have people around him?” I can hear the worry in her voice, and it only increases mine.

“He does. I called his best friend last night and he went straight over. And he’s close with his grandfather. He took him in after his parents kicked him out.”

She stiffens. “They kicked him out?”

“Yeah. Pretty evil, huh?”

“Assholes,” she agrees.

She holds me like that for a while, playing with my hair, rubbing my arm, just generally being the best. And it suddenly hits me that Solomon never had this. I might not know all the details of his family, but I can make a pretty good guess that he never had a mom who would hold him when he was sad. He never had anyone soft to turn to, someone who would rub his arm and be gentle with him. Both he and Jay speak so highly ofhis grandfather, so I know he had a good life there, but I highly doubt the old cowboy I met at the ranch does a lot of physical affection.

And he never had a dad to be silly with. Someone who would run out to buy ice cream in a panic when he cried. Someone who would pause concerts in front of tens of thousands of people just to watch a livestream of his kid’s soccer game.

He never had brothers to be overprotective. Never had cousins to be his best friends since he was a baby.

He never had any of the things I have, and it hurts my heart so much.

What’s even harder to accept is that I could give him all of that. I could give him this family, as crazy and chaotic as they all are, and I could also give him a quiet, safe place to go when it’s too much. I could give him my Aunt Daisy and my Uncle Lennon, who both dealt with mental health issues and came out on the other side. I could give him my Aunt Paige, who might be crazy as all get out but also makes everything in life fun. I could give him my brothers and my cousins and my niece and nephews and Sam and Cash Ransome, the two best people I know.

I could give him the kind of love he was supposed to get from the people who brought him into this world.

But he doesn’t think he’s worth any of that. And I know that’s why he pushed me away.

“I hate that he’s hurting and I can’t help him,” I tell my mom on a sob, and she pulls me close.

“I know, Ceece.” She gives a soft, sad chuckle. “It’s probably pretty similar to how I feel right now, seeing you this upset and not being able to help.”

“You do help,” I tell her, snuggling in close. “This helps.”

She kisses the top of my head. “Then we’ll just do this for as long as you need.”

THIRTY-THREE

SOLOMON

“I’m going to say something, and you’re not going to like it,” Em tells me over lunch on Friday.

I’ve been zoning out of the conversation with her and Jay since we sat down and I don’t have the energy to feel guilty about it. I haven’t been sleeping much this week, which sucks for a lot of reasons, not the least of which is that I can’t get my contacts in when my eyes feel so tired and scratchy. And that means I’m stuck wearing my glasses, which makes me think of Cecelia constantly.

As if I needed another excuse.

Jay shifts in his seat, catching my attention. He’s not looking at me, his face downcast, and I wonder if this was planned between the two of them, whatever Em is about to say. He’s been quiet all day, not like himself. It strikes me for the first time that he hasn’t been trying to cheer me up like he usually does. Hasn’t been making bad jokes or annoying me just to get a rise out of me.

I’m not sure how to feel about that. It’s not like I enjoy his bad jokes or aggravations, but what does it say that he isn’t even bothering to try to change my mood anymore?

“Sol,” Em says, her voice firmer, and I tear my gaze away from her brother to look at her, not bothering to respond. Em is gonna say what she wants to say regardless of what I do, and talking takes too much effort.

She takes a deep breath, shooting a quick look at Jay before turning back to me. “I think you should see someone.”

I stare at her blankly, unable to put together her meaning, and not caring too much either way.

“Someone professional,” she clarifies. “A doctor.”