A/N: The timeline got a bit messed up on this... this occurs after chapter 8, meaning it's basically a chapter 8 part two...

"If you thought Bain was annoying before, he'll be even worse now," Travis says as he takes me to his truck. "He ran away with his tail tucked between his legs, but if we know that asshole, he'll be back."

I shrug. Whether Bain now has a grudge against me is no longer concerning. If he goes after me in any way, it will have bad repercussions in public and at school. It isn't like he can steal my girl like in the past, considering Roxie has already moved on with a college guy, but it's hard to tell what Bain's revenge looks like. The guy is about as consistent as his girlfriends – if you can even call them that.

"You gotta stop pushing everyone away, man." Travis lets go of me as I feel for the cold metal of the door handle. "How long do you think people are gonna let you get away with everything? Being angry about your circumstances isn't an excuse to take it out on other people."

I sigh as I wait for him to get in on the driver's side. Once the door slams shut, I respond. "I know that, Travis. Bain has just been getting on my nerves, and I've finally got the balls to do something about that. He thinks he's entitled to anything and everything. It won't hurt him to be knocked down with a tier or two."

I can imagine him rolling his eyes as the truck turns over. "Whatever. You've gotta stop pushing people away."

How am I pushing people away? Bain was hardly my friend, so that doesn't make it possible to push him away. Besides, Bain wouldn't dare lay a finger on me. Just because I'm blind doesn't mean I can't kick his ass. And Bain was the only person I've 'pushed away' so far.

"Have you apologized to Emori?"

My head whips in his direction. "What?"

"I said -"

"I know what you said!" To be honest, the thought of apologizing to Emori never crossed my mind, and the guilt from that stabs at my chest. An apology is due, but after what she said last night, I'm sure she already knows I'm sorry. "And no, I haven't."

"Tay -"

"Let it go." I shift away from him. The further he pushes, the harder I have to fight to stay calm. "I'll apologize when I see her next."

He sighs but doesn't say anything more for the rest of the ride to my house. Apologies aren't my best quality. In the past, I've never had a real reason to apologize. I've never done something idiotic enough to warrant it. This is different.

By the time we reach the curb outside my house, the silence has become unbearable. "I'll text you later. Tell your sister I said hey," Travis says as I grab my phone off the dash.

I wave to him as I walk up my front lawn. On my first day home from the hospital, I memorized the number of steps between the sidewalk and my front door. Thirteen. Nine if I take large steps. Despite how much it hurts to remember, I've memorized the number of steps between every room in the house, too, including every path leading away from the door.

I hesitate outside. Ma and Dad are home, but are they still worrying?

As soon as I enter the house, my fears dissipate. The atmosphere inside is relaxed, which hasn't been a reality since before the accident. Ma and Dad act as if any loud noise will set me off or make me disappear. Like I will leave one day to go to a party and not come back. Just like Gavin did.

Lottie still treats me normally. Just like the guys, her opinion of me never changed. I'm still the slightly older brother that taught her how to play basketball. For that, I'm grateful.

Talking to her sounds like a good idea. But she isn't home. Ma and Dad are probably in their room sleeping, but Lottie's door is half-open, and she doesn't answer when I call for her.

"Send a message to Lottie." When my phone buzzes to let me know my messages are open, I say, "Where are you? You're not home."

I sink onto my bed while I wait for her to respond. Out of all the things my parents have changed to better accommodate a blind person, I'm most grateful for the upgrades on my phone. It makes the process of sending a text much easier, as well as calling, checking the time, checking notifications, and reading texts.

"One new message from Lottie. Would you like me to read it aloud?" My phone asks.

"Yes."

"'Went out with a friend. I'll be gone for the night.' Would you like to respond?"

"No." I don't need to ask who she's out with. If she wants me to know, she would have told me their name. Even if it's a guy.

My hand itches to grab my phone to respond, but I force it down and shake my head. No. I'm not going to bother Lottie. This is the first friend she's had in forever and asking her a million questions won't help.

A sharp knock at my door makes me jump. "Tay?"

"Yeah, Ma?" I set my phone down as the bed dips to the side. From the shift in the atmosphere, Mom's distress is palpable. It makes me want to leave. I can't deal with any more bad news or sadness.

"Doctor Adhikari called. The surgery..." she pauses and takes my hand in hers. "Our insurance won't cover all of it, and we can't pay for the rest of it. With the house on mortgage, my student loan payments getting behind, and your father's hours getting cut, we can't afford it all. And if we stop making payments, we'll lose the house. There's nothing we can sell. We can't... You may never -" Her voice cracks at the end, and she lets out painful sobs as she pulls me close.

I stay silent.

My eyes. Football. There is no chance without this surgery. Everything is gone for sure.

Strangely, the feeling of loss I had when I initially went blind is absent. There is only... nothing. No despair or sadness. Nothing. By now, I'm numb to the pain and that is frightening.

It doesn't surprise me that we can't afford my surgery. American healthcare is a nightmare for minority families. And with our insurance's terms and conditions, the only way we'll be able to get the surgery done without the co-pay would be to have some life-threatening issue caused by blindness. That, or I'd have to try to get a pro-bono surgery, but I would be hard-pressed to get Dr. Adhikari's time since he is usually fully booked. It sucks, and anyone else would be outraged. But I'm so tired of fighting everything.

I'm a black Hispanic-American. Life is never promised to be easy. Not here, anyway. And there is nothing I can do to change it. I'm helpless.

I wrap my arms around my mom. "It's okay, Ma. We'll get through it. We always do."

She sniffles. "Yeah, but -"

"No 'buts,' Ma. Us Perezes are the strongest of the strong. I don't need my sight to get me by." I run my fingers through the long coils in her hair as she relaxes, her sniffles turning into shaking breaths.

"You're right." She sighs. "I just wish there was more we could do to help you. I'm not going to stop looking for something – anything I can possibly do. You loved playing football."

"I love a lot of things, Ma. But I've also lost a lot of other things, too. Football is just one small loss in a life full of others." The words surprise me. They're true, but it doesn't feel like they're spoken by me. They're spoken by the eternal optimist in me. That Tay isn't fully present, but he's there enough to know the right things to say. The right things to make Ma feel better. Even if they have no effect on me.

"You're so grown up," Ma sobs. "You're strong and resilient. You get that from your father." She pats my hand. "I try to be strong, but sometimes it's nice to have your father around to center me." Her head shifts against me, and I can tell she's looking up at me. "I shouldn't be leaning on you for support like this. It's not what a good mother would do. Moms are supposed to be the support system for their children. But with you and Gavin, that's never been the case."

I smile, though there's no real happiness in it. How can I be happy when I'm going to be blind forever? My words earlier were to assure my mom, but they were also directed toward myself. If I force myself to believe it, it will come true, right?

"You're a strong woman, Ma. Everyone has battles they can't fight alone. That's why there's love." I play with a thread on my sheet. It's times like these when I'll say anything just to keep Ma close. You never know when you can lose someone until it's too late. If the past few months since the accident have taught me anything, it's that. "Love is strong so you don't have to be. Kind of like a force of nature that can't be tamed, if you ask me."

She chuckles. "You never fail to surprise me, amada."

I laugh despite myself. "Ma, it's amado." I add emphasis on the 'o' ending. I'm not a girl."

"Hm." The frown in her voice is evident. "I really need to have your father help me brush up on my Spanish. I'm pretty sure I should have known that."

I smile and shake my head. "It's fine, Ma. Unlike most people, I actually paid attention in Spanish class." I nudge her with my elbow. "And it helps to be bilingual."

She pushes me away half-heartedly, standing up. I've gotta get your dad up for work. You gonna be okay?"

I smile. I'm eighteen years old, but she still finds time to worry about me. "Yeah, Ma. Don't worry about me."

She hesitates for a moment, but eventually the creaking of the floorboards signal her departure.

As soon as I know she's gone, my shoulders hunch, and I flop backward onto my bed. I run my hand through my hair and feel around for the jagged line going across the crown of my scalp. Touching the puckered skin sends tingles shooting through my skull, reminding me of what I lost. What we all lost. It reminds me of the one good thing about the accident: I'm not horribly disfigured. I got lucky. Gavin and the old woman driving the other car... not so much. Gavin was drunk, and I should have forced him to let me drive, but I didn't. He drove drunk before and nothing happened. But that's my mistake for thinking it was the same.

René Angle was a woman in her late sixties. She had a heart attack while driving and drove through an intersection, eventually colliding with Gavin's side of the vehicle. I was told he died instantly, which I'm incredibly grateful for. But we never saw it coming. I never got to say goodbye.

"Oh, Gavin, if only you were here." I rub my temples and let out a breath. Gavin was a good guy. Anyone else will say the same. Mistakes were rare for him, but it only took one to kill him.

Men making mistakes. A wonderful topic. I wonder what Emori is doing right now. There is no doubt she's still mad at me, even if she isn't thinking about it.

My hand runs through my hair as I chew on my lip. What I said last night is by far the stupidest thing I've ever done. What was I even thinking? I groan and curse myself.

I want to be her friend again. I want to apologize for how I acted, but how do I start? "Hey, Emori, I'm sorry I'm such a douchebag?" No. "You should have left me alone the other day. But I'm sorry for being an ass." Even worse.

I pull out my phone. "Send a message to Travis." I wait for the buzz again. "Hey, can you come back over? I need your advice."