Page 34 of From Fling to Ring

Whoever he is, he’s just as handsome as Tyler, just an older, slightly pot-bellied, silver-haired version who’s actually more disheveled than his son.

“Dad, hey. What’s going on?” he asks hopefully.

His father stuffs his hands in his pockets like men do when they are uncomfortable and looks down.

Oh no.

Poor Ruby. Such a sweet girl and only twenty years old. I have so many questions. But this is a family moment and I need to keep my thoughts to myself. I probably shouldn’t even be here.

“Dad, what is it?” Tyler asks more forcefully, placing his hand on his father’s shoulder.

As he starts to answer, he notices me for the first time. “Oh. Hello. Do you work for the team?” he asks politely.

Okay. Tyler never mentioned me to him. Not that I’d expect him to.

Really.

“No, Mr. Brooks,” I say, extending my hand. “I don’t work for the Aftershocks. I’m Lucy Daley, the one who went to the game with Ruby last week.”

He squints at Tyler, then back at me. “Oh? Didn’t know that.”

Tyler waves his hands to get his father’s attention. “Dad. Please. What is going on with Ruby?”

Mr. Brooks nods like he almost forgot why he was there. “Right, yeah. Well, she’s gonna be fine.”

To say relief washes over Tyler’s entire being is an understatement. I’d say he even wobbles a little at the news. “She… she’s gonna be fine? Dad, what the hell happened?”

His father shrugs. “Doctor changed her meds, which threw her into hypoglycemia.”

Mr. Brooks turns to me with further explanation. “That’s when a diabetic’s blood sugar gets too low. We were at home watching TV when she passed out right there on the sofa.”

“Ruby’s diabetic?” I ask.

Is that why she didn’t want dessert last week?

“Type 1 diabetes, diagnosed a few years ago. She’ll be on insulin for the rest of her life.” His voice catches when he says that.

But Tyler’s not nearly as sentimental. “Dad,” he says, his tone razor-sharp, “you made it sound like Ruby was on death’s door. What the hell?”

Crap. Maybe this would be a good time to leave.

I actually inch toward the door, but Tyler takes my arm. “Wait,” he snaps, not taking his eyes off his father. “I may need a ride home.”

“Really? How’d you get here?” I look at Tyler’s dad. “Do you need a ride, too?”

They ignore me.

“Now, son, there’s no need to get worked up. I thought you needed to know your younger sister was in grave condition.”

Tyler sets his hands on his hips and I really, really wish I were invisible. I never liked it when my own family argued, and I certainly don’t need to witness another family doing their thing.

“Dad, you said it was bad.”

“Well, it was bad.”

“No, dad. There are different degrees of bad. Like Ruby has low blood sugar is one kind of bad. Lucy falling into a diabetic coma is another kind of bad?—”

“They’re all bad, Tyler,” Mr. Brooks says, getting louder.

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