“Has she been diagnosed?”

I shook my head. “Not the last time I took her to get checked, but that was a couple years ago. She refuses to get another CT, and things have been gettin’ pretty bad.”

“She should be medicated.”

“I know.”

Not only that, but she should get more exercise and sunshine and scheduled activities. Marla could only do so much for her, and by the time I got home every night after school and work, I was too exhausted to give Grams everything she deserved.

West got up and made both of us margarita slushies. He dropped extra gummy bears into each of them and handed me one. We saluted at the same time, oddly in sync, taking greedy slurps from our drinks as he sat back down.

“Back to the scar thing.” He motioned to his own face with his hand. “Is that why you don’t go onstage? Because you don’t like the way you look?”

He was referring to that time he saw me at rehearsal, mouthing all the words but staying far away from the limelight.

I felt the tips of my ears pinking. “It’s more complicated than that.”

“I’m a smart guy. Lay it on me.”

“I haven’t always been like this. I was kind of Miss Popular. I fought really hard to get where I was. My mom was a junkie who died when I was a toddler, and my father … Well, I don’t even know who he is. The one thing I always had goin’ for me was my looks, as shallow as it sounds.” I laughed nervously. “I was in cheer. I was in drama. I was that girl, you know. With the pretty Sunday church dress and dimpled smile, always camera-ready. I learned early on how to play the cards I’d been dealt. I thought I had the game figured out. But then …”

“Someone flipped the table upside down mid-round and all the rules changed.” West chewed on his straw, contemplating. “Same happened to me, so I know firsthand how bad it sucks.”

“Oh, yeah?” I grinned, feeling dangerously comfortable around him. It was stupid. Like a kitten thinking it could befriend a tiger because they were vaguely from the same family. “You discarded your lifelong dream to become an actor because you experienced a traumatic childhood tragedy that has caused you to look disfigured beyond repair?”

He used the tip of his boot to shove my crate back. He scratched his temple with his middle finger. I laughed.

“What I mean is, the rules changed on me, too, mid-game,” he clarified.

“I don’t see how. You’re still popular.”

“I was Easton Braun-popular. Linebacker. Homecoming king. The obnoxious, wholesome, perfect, Tom Brady-type guy people low-key suspect is secretly a serial killer.”

I ran my eyes over his injured frame. I never would have guessed West played ball. That he had a sweet, straitlaced side.

“What made you switch to the dark side?”

“I became the sole provider in my family. Well, my parents work now, but they’re mainly chasing bills.”

“Oh.”

Did I just say oh? Out of all the words in the English language, I chose this one? Really? Do better! “That’s … rough.”

He shrugged. “It is what it is.”

“Do you have any siblings?”

He shook his head. “Just me, my parents, and a mountain of unpaid loans that keeps on getting higher. You?”

“Just me, Grams, and my in-the-gutter self-esteem.” I smiled tiredly. “Yay us.”

We clinked our drinks together.

Silence stretched between us like bubble gum, extending, on the verge of snapping. West was the first to put a needle in it. He slapped his rock-hard thigh.

“Now that we’re even, let’s clean up and get the fuck out of here. I’ve got shit to do.” He stood, dumping his slushie in the trash.

He turned off the grill, getting ready to scrub it. I glared up at him, dumbfounded.

“What the heck is that supposed to mean?”

“You couldn’t look me in the eye since I saw your arm, and I needed to counter-embarrass myself for you to feel equal again. So I indulged you. Shared a secret with you no one but East knows. But East doesn’t count; we grew up in the same town and were born two days apart. He is practically my twin brother. My family is broke as hell, and I fight not because of the perks or the pussy. I need to keep a roof over my parents’ heads. My mom needs her antidepressant meds, and, as you must know, healthcare is goddamn expensive.”

I swallowed and looked down. I felt so pathetic in front of him, with the dementia-stricken grandmother and big-ass scar. But now that I knew his family was poor and his mother was battling depression, his life didn’t seem like something to envy anymore. He wasn’t untouchable, unreachable, or protected by an invisible glow.

“Your parents must be so proud of you,” I grumbled.

“Not even a little.” He let out a humorless laugh, dumping a rag into my hands, signaling for me to get off my butt and help. “But that’s another story, and you’ll have to show a lot more than scar tissue for me to trade that secret, Tex.”

By the time I got back home, Marla had put Grams to bed. She was drained from today’s trip to the emergency room. She wasn’t used to spending so much time out of the house anymore.

I took a quick shower while Marla tidied up. Then I hugged her at the door, clutching her extra hard. “Thanks, Marl. You’re a trooper.”

“Don’t mention it. Now tell me, whatcha gonna do, honey pie?”

“Probably watch Netflix and chill.”

“Don’t play dumb with me, sweets. I mean about the old bat. In the long run. This is not sustainable, sweetie. You must know that. You can no longer take care of her. I appreciate you did it through high school, but your grandmomma needs constant care. She is a danger to herself. And to others,” Marla said pointedly, raising one eyebrow as her gaze drifted to the left side of my face.

I ducked my head down, rubbing the back of my neck.

“I’ll think about it,” I lied.

I wasn’t going to think about it. There was nothing to think about. Grandma Savvy had raised me. She’d tucked me into bed every night, and kissed my boo-boos better. Sewn a replica of the prom dress I wanted because the original cost too much. She’d dedicated her entire life to me, and I wasn’t going to bail on her when things got tough.

I just had to step up my game. Spend more time with her, shower her with more attention.