Page 72 of High Hopes

“You’re doing really well,” he adds, his tone encouraging. “I know it can take time to feel like yourself again after something like this. But physically, you’re all set.”

The nurse hands me a printout of the visit summary as I leave the office, my dad trailing behind me. I’m nodding along, going through the motions, but the word sticks in my head like a splinter. Physically, I’m set. But emotionally? Mentally?

I don’t know if I’ll ever feel whole again.

In the car, Dad gives me a sideways look. “Want to grab lunch?”

I shake my head, staring out the window. “Not hungry.”

He doesn’t push, just nods and keeps driving.

When we get home, I retreat to my room, flopping onto the bed and staring at the ceiling. The silence feels too loud, pressing in on me, and the weight of everything I’ve been holding back settles on my chest. The doctor’s words replay in my head, over and over.Physically, you’re all set.

But what does that even mean? Set for what? For normal? For pretending like nothing happened? Like the cracks don’t run so deep they might never close?

I pull out my sketchbook, flipping to an empty page. My pencil hovers over the paper, but no lines come. No ideas, no inspiration.

I think about Emily. About her family, spending another Christmas without her. About the check I wrote to them with money I barely had, as if it could somehow make up for what happened.

But nothing could. No amount of money or good intentions would ever bring her back. It’s a truth I carry every day, like a stone stitched to my heart.

I think about Liam, the way he looked at me like I was the brightest thing in the room. The way his voice softened when he called me “Birdie, baby,” like it was a name made just for me. I want to call him, to tell him about the appointment, to hear him say something that makes me believe I’m more than just the sum of my mistakes.

But I don’t.

Instead, I close the sketchbook and roll onto my side, pulling the blankets up over my head. I let the darkness settle around me, warm and stifling, and tell myself that maybe tomorrow will be better. Maybe I’ll feel stronger, braver, ready to face the world again.

Just not today.

26

LIAM

The bowling alley near my parents’place doesn’t smell like old shoes and popcorn. It’s not nostalgic or charming. A piss-poor excuse for atmosphere and exactly the kind of place I wouldn’t have chosen for a night out.

Yet, here I am, crammed into a lane with my brother and his friends.

What was supposed to be a triple date—Hayes and Emmy, West and Jade, plus some other couple they know—turned into a sibling outing when the latter bailed. James and I were the last-minute replacements, though I’m pretty sure neither of us fits the vibe they were going for.

A little less “cute couple energy” and a lot more beer and trash talk.

“Liam, you’re up!” Jade calls, waving me toward the lane. Jade used to be a student at Dayton, too, in the same class as James and the others. She’s dating West, a running back for the Carolina Bobcats in his first season.

I grab a ball that’s too heavy, ignoring the sparkly purple one she insists is “lucky,” and step up to the lane. My first roll veers into the gutter almost immediately, and the second isn’t much better.

“Solid work,” James says dryly.

“I’m pacing myself,” I shoot back, shrugging.

Hayes snorts. “If that’s pacing, I’d hate to see you try.”

He may be my brother’s best friend, but he was also my roommate for all of last year. We’re close, and he loves to needle me whenever he gets the chance.

His girlfriend, Emmy, sits beside him. She has bleach-white hair and an effortless, edgy style. I like her. She’s sharp and quick-witted, with a kindness that sneaks up on you. Right now, though, she’s half watching the game and half answering emails on her phone. She’s been juggling work with a startup company—a big digital marketing campaign she’s spearheading.

“Don’t listen to him,” Emmy says without looking up, her fingers flying over the screen. “He’s just cranky because I beat him at mini-golf last week.”

Hayes grumbles, but there’s a grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. He’s been settling into his new job as the assistant coach for Dayton’s baseball team, and from what James tells me, he’s doing well. Coaching seems to suit him.

---