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“You too. Mom, can I get some popcorn?” He points to the man coming our way with a vending tray, and I hand him my credit card, which is really Austin’s credit card, and he skips away to buy himself some popcorn, leaving Malcolm and me a minute to talk alone.
That’s when I decide I’m going to lay it all out there. “Austin needs help—mental health help. I’m sure he’d be angry I’m talking about it with you, but I’m worried. He’s been having episodes…anxiety attacks, I think. I walked in on him having one a few weeks ago, and then I was there when he had another the other day. I’m sure it’s happened multiple times before, and I’m scared for him. He needs help, but he won’t listen to me. Repeatedly tells me he’s fine, but he won’t talk to me about what happened with his family, and I love him, Malcolm. I love him, and I want him to be happy and healthy, and I don’t know what to do.”
“Don’t cry. It’s all right.”
“I’m not crying.”
He lightly grips my shoulders. “I know Austin well enough to know he would hate that you’re crying.”
I wipe at my eyes. “I’m not.”
“Sure,” he says again, smiling this time. “But have you told him everything you just told me?”
“Almost.”
“Almost?”
“Except for the whole I love you part.”
He lets go of me to stick his hands in his pockets, totally aloof as he eviscerates me. “I think the more people who tell him that he’s loved, the better.”
“I don’t want him to think I’m saying it only to manipulate him into getting help, though.”
He flicks his gaze to me, stepping back to let Noah into the row of seats, and pitches his voice lower so only I can hear him. “If you wait on the best time to tell someone you love them, you’ll never say it.” Then he bends and tells Noah, “I will see you later. Enjoy the rest of the game.”
My kid smiles and stuffs a handful of popcorn into his mouth. “Thanks!”
Malcolm dips his chin to me then. “I’m happy to have finally met you, Millie. Take care, and I’m sure I’ll be seeing you again.”
I smile. “Thanks, Malcolm. For helping Austin—and me too, I guess.”
“Don’t give up on him,” he says and then disappears into the crowd. Like a public relations guardian angel.
CHAPTER 23
AUSTIN
I kept my head down all week, playing in the All-Star game and suffering through interviews, but I can’t avoid tonight. I can’t avoid the gala and giving this stupid fucking speech that I haven’t even finished writing yet. Brett texted me, asking if we could meet up to talk. My father also texted, a warning to not embarrass him. I didn’t bother responding to either one.
And instead of accomplishing anything productive, I sat on the couch all morning while Harold danced to Elton John then called me a dickhead when I tried to change the music. So, I literally jump off the couch to maul Millie when she shows up, with a smile and a cheery, “Hey, boss.”
She laughs into my kiss when I lift her off the floor, planting my mouth on hers and backing her up against the wall. She angles her neck, allowing me more room to devour her skin, her laughter quickly fading to moans, and I help myself to lifting her T-shirt. “I love that you don’t wear bras. Makes it so easy.”
I bend, taking one nipple into my mouth while pinching the other, and she lifts her leg, wrapping it around my hip as she hisses in pleasure, and my body responds as if it was made for hers. I’m on the earth for the sole purpose of taking care of her—everything she needs, I will give to her. But today, I need to forget that anything outside of us exists.
“I need you,” I grate out against her breastbone, and she molds her hand to my face, pushing on my chin until I’m standing up straight, towering over her once again.
“I wanted to talk to you.”
I lick my lips, missing her skin under them, the taste of her on my tongue, my thirst becoming unquenchable the longer we stand here. “About what?”
“Us.”
“Us?”
“Yeah, about what we’re doing here.”
I skate my fingertips back and forth over her waist. “We’re not currently doing anything.”
