Page 48 of The Rookie's Sister

He tightens his grip on my hand even though I know it costs him to do it. “You listen to me, Emma, and you listen good.” He waits until I nod. “This is not how I die. It’s not my time to leave you and Jeff. I plan on being around to walk you down the aisle one day. To see my grandchildren. To watch my son get a Super Bowl ring.”

I smile at the last one even though I know it’s only a half joke. His words do help, though. We don’t talk about it, but the night before Mom passed, she told the three of us that it was her time and that she would be watching over us, seeing all those important moments from heaven. She was so calm and matter-of-fact about it that we weren’t surprised when she fell asleep and didn’t wake up.

Dad has that same calm and matter-of-fact tone, and I tell myself that I can trust it. I manage a smile as I stand and tell him to get some rest.

Outside Dad’s room, I overhear two medical students at the central station murmuring about a surgeon named Dr. Alden. Apparently, he’s pioneered an innovative technique for treating Dad’s condition, with unmatched success rates. But he’s impossible to book.

I tuck away that information, wondering if Dr. Patel has already explored that avenue. Pasting a faint smile on my face, I slip back into Dad’s room. He’s dozed off, his face lined with pain even in sleep. I sink into the chair beside his bed, taking his frail hand in both of mine.

Whatever happens over the coming days, I can’t let him see my doubt. He needs me to be strong. And I will be, no matter how heavy the weight on my shoulders feels tonight.

* * *

Xavier’s name flashes on my phone for the third time in just as many hours, jolting me awake from restless sleep.

Each time his name pops up, my pulse quickens. It’s usually just a reminder about Jeff’s practice schedule, but the man’s knack for diverting my attention—even in a crisis—is absurd.

I shoot back a quick text to confirm and push myself out of bed, my joints protesting. A shower and a strong cup of coffee are non-negotiables before heading back to the hospital.

I shuffle into the kitchen, wearing an oversized Thunderhawks shirt, and almost collide with Jeff, who’s busy rummaging in the fridge.

“Whoa, sorry, Ems!” He raises his hands apologetically, one holding a block of cheese and the other an apple. “Just getting some fuel before practice. Xavier’s really pushing us to prep for next week’s preseason game.”

My stomach drops. Between Dad’s surgery and the upcoming game, my attention is stretched thin. Jeff notices the look on my face and his brow furrows.

“You okay? You look wiped out.”

I wave it off. “I’m fine, just didn’t sleep well.” At his skeptical glance, I come clean, “Actually, I was just talking to Dr. Patel about Dad.”

Concern morphs into alarm on Jeff’s face. “What happened? Did something change?”

I brace myself. “Dad’s not doing as well as we’d hoped. They’re recommending another surgery—a riskier one.”

“How risky?” Jeff sets down his food, the morning’s lightness vanishing.

Dr. Patel hadn’t mince words. “There are significant risks. But it’s also risky to do nothing. It’s a no-win situation.”

Jeff rubs his temples. “When’s the surgery?”

“Sometime this week. They want to move fast.”

He steps closer, his usually youthful face tinged with seriousness. “So what’s our game plan?”

“Firstly, we support Dad. I’ll be at the hospital coordinating with the medical team. As for you—” I hesitate, my throat tightening. “I know you have practice and that important game, but—”

Jeff interrupts me. “Ems, family first. The game can wait. Dad needs us.”

His certainty is a balm. I hug him. “Thank you, but Dad would also want you to give your best shot at making the team. We’ll have to juggle both.”

“We’re a team too, Ems. We’ll manage.”

I pull back, my eyes misty but my resolve firmed. At this moment, despite everything—the stress, the worries, the fear—I know we’re anchored by family.

“And for that,” I think, “I’m grateful.”

“Let’s visit Dad before you head to practice,” I suggest, finally finding steady ground.

“Lead the way,” Jeff says, grabbing his keys.

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