Page 127 of Mine to Take

Air gets trapped in my lungs when Holland jerks a thumb in my direction. I’m afraid of what’s going to come out of her mouth.

It wouldn’t surprise me if she outed the lie.

Security would get called and then I’d get tossed out on my ass.

“This is Maverick McKinnon. You know, the hotshot defenseman for the Western Wildcats? The one turning pro next year?” When the woman doesn’t blink, she adds, “His father is Brody McKinnon?”

Apparently, that means something, because her expression transforms as she sucks in a deep breath before gushing, “I had the biggest crush on him when he played in the NHL. He was so big and blond…” Her voice trails off as she gets lost in the memories.

Yikes.

When Holland side-eyes me, I clear my throat. “So… I can go back and sit with her?”

“Sure, sweetie. Follow me.”

I huff out a relieved breath.

As I turn to follow her, I mouth to Holland, “thank you.”

She jerks her head in a nod. “I’ll call her parents and let them know what’s going on.”

40

Willow

The voices are what first capture my attention and tug me toward the surface. It’s a struggle to make sense of the words. My eyelids feel like they’re weighed down by cement blocks. After a minute or so, exhaustion creeps back in at the edges and I give up, happy to be sucked back under.

The second time it happens, my eyelids flutter and I squint against the light that pours in through the windows. It takes a moment to focus on my surroundings. My brows draw together when I realize nothing looks familiar. Everything is white or cream colored and sterile.

The beeping of machines is all too familiar and slams home exactly where I am.

The hospital.

The strangest part is that I have no memory of how I got here.

“I think she’s finally waking up.”

Mom.

I would recognize her anxiety-riddled voice anywhere.

Truth be told, it’s a relief to know she’s here and that I’m not alone.

“Hey, sweetheart,” Dad murmurs. “Look who’s returned to the land of the living. We’ve been worried about you.”

Only now do I realize that my head is throbbing a steady beat. “It kind of feels like I’ve been run over by a truck.” I search my memory for more information but come up empty. “What happened?”

“You caught the flu and got dehydrated.”

I glance at the IV taped to the back of my hand.

It’s a sight I’d hoped to never see again.

Mom slips her fingers around mine, drawing my attention to her. “Honey, why didn’t you call me when you didn’t feel well? I would have come over and taken care of you. I knew you weren’t being careful and sanitizing. And look what happened.” When her voice continues to escalate, I wince. “You ended up in the hospital!”

I squeeze my eyes tightly closed in an attempt to block her out.

“Rebecca,” Dad says with a heavy sigh. “Let’s save that conversation for a later date. This isn’t the time or place.”

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