Page 25 of Lose You to Find Me

It’s not entirely true. I’ve thought about taking a break from school, but I’ve never given up on anything. Dad taught me better than that.

“Dad is thinking about coming home and having a team of nurses help settle him in where he’s comfortable. He doesn’t want to be in the hospital anymore.”

“Can’t say I blame him,” my friend remarks, voice quiet. I remember when Matt was hospitalized freshman year with a burst appendix that turned into a bad infection, so he was stuck at the hospital. The only thing that got him through it were the cute nurses who entertained his cheesy flirting for the period of his stay. He asks, “What does your mom think about all this? My aunt said she’s sad she doesn’t see her at their Tuesday book club meetings anymore, but she isn’t sure if she should drop by the house to say hi with everything that is going on.”

Mom could use the company, but I get why people might be hesitant. Nobody knows what to say to us anymore. If it’s not “sorry,” it’s nothing at all because they’re afraid of saying the wrong thing. “When they started giving us options about how to move forward, Mom looked a little pale. I know she wants him at home, but I can tell there’s something on her mind about it that she’s not saying.”

His eyebrows go up, as if to saySound like anybody else we know?

Lifting my shoulders limply, I stare down at the drink in my hand and blow out a breath. If someone had told me three years ago that I’d be here, watching my father die, after being dumped by my longtime girlfriend, and struggling to keep up with school and work, I wouldn’t have believed them. Then again, nobody expects their life to do a complete one-eighty. It’s why everyone says to hope for the best, expect the worst, but plan to be surprised.

The number of surprises I’m dealing with lately is just a little too much for any one person to handle, which only adds to the anger slowly bubbling under my skin. I was raised to be tougher than this. So why am I struggling so much harder compared to the man who’s dying?

Not wanting to think about it anymore, I decide to shift gears and diverge the conversation. “What’s new with you?” I ask Matt. I lean back in the chair behind the store counter and listen to it creak. There’s only a small space cleaned off for when customers come to check out, and the rest is covered in paperwork I still need to fill out, organize, and file.

Matt looks around at the items lining the shelves by the register—mostly candy, gum, and a few smaller household items people usually forget to pick up until they see them. “There’s not much going on with me,” he replies, grabbing a Snickers bar and tossing it onto the counter before pulling out some money.

One of my brows pops up as I give him change for his chocolate before saying, “I doubt that’s true since you’re still going hard for Rachel. I heard through the grapevine that she’s leaving as academic adviser now that she’s in her last semester of grad school.”

Matt waggles his eyebrows. “Yeah, but she’ll still be at Lindon though.”

“As aprofessor, Clearwater. It was bad enough you were constantly flirting with her when she was on staff. She’s been working hard to get her degree. Remember how excited she was when the school offered to pay for grad school if she’d work for them? Don’t fuck this up for her because you want to get your dick wet.”

He peels open the snack he bought. “You sound like Aiden,” he grumbles, speaking of the former tight end on our team. He takes a huge bite of the candy and, with his mouth half-full, adds, “We haven’t done anything wrong. And Lindon can’t afford to fire anybody else after the huge scandal with the coaching staff.”

I make a face, remembering the forced mass exodus that occurred with the football faculty earlier this year. The administration decided that letting them go was for the best, which surprised a lot of people. “Look, do whatever you want. I would just hate to see anybody take any risks that don’t pan out in the end.” I sit back, grabbing my textbook again and opening to the page I was on before.

It’s a long moment later when Matt breaks the tense silence between us. “We’re being careful.”

I glance up at him, realizing Matt and Rachel must have already started something they have no intention of ending anytime soon. The former Lindon football team used to work with her enough to know she’s determined to make a future for herself. She could still end things with him if he’s a threat to that.

I’ve learned to expect the unexpected.

He drums his hands against the edge of the counter. “I don’t suppose I could convince you to close up shop early and come to dinner with me and DJ, can I?”

My eyes go to the time on my phone screen before flicking back to his. I’ve still got a few hours before I’m supposed to close, but ithasbeen quiet in here. A little too quiet for business, if I’m being honest.

“I have to be at the hospital by six” is how I reply, grabbing the keys from where I keep them hidden under the counter. “And I’m taking my coffee.”

Matt looks both pleased and surprised, probably the same way I look knowing I’ve justified taking a break for once. “The crew will be happy to see you.”

They have no idea how much the feeling is reciprocated.

*

Dad is sleepingwhen I finally make it to the hospital, and it gives me time toreallylook at him. When he’s awake, he tries downplaying everything as if he’s not on the verge of death.

“Hey,” a quiet voice greets from behind.

I turn to see Emma there with a small smile on her face. “Hi. Didn’t expect to see you here. Did you pick up another shift?”

I’ve learned her schedule by now, especially knowing she’s one of the few people who can get Dad to eat, even if it’s pastries that one of her coworkers brings in. At this point, Mom and I don’t care what he eats as long as it’s something.

She peeks around my shoulder at Dad before nodding toward the hallway. I follow her out, watching as she stops a few feet from the door and lets out a tired sigh. “We’ve had a lot of callouts today, so I was voluntold to stay until my boss can try getting another person to cover. It’s not looking optimistic.”

My brows dart up. “How long have you been here?”

She lifts her wrist and looks at the purple smartwatch. When she cringes, I know the answer isn’t going to be a good one. “Over twenty-four hours. I dozed in the on-call room earlier, but I could use approximately a ten-year nap when I get home.”

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