Page 48 of Absolutely Not in Love
There could not be a more accurate description of my dad. I’ve never met a man whose life more fervently revolves around sports. That means weekends at the sports bar and evenings on the couch watching hockey, or football when there isn’t a hockey game on, or baseball if he’s really desperate.
“Maybe we could put a treadmill in the living room?” I ask. “Make him walk while he watches?”
Josh chuckles. “Sure. And then you’ll start dating an Appie, Mom will start rooting for the Red Wings, and Jadah and I will have a set of triplets.”
I don’t even process the last half of Josh’s sentence. Because—whatdid he just say? “Me date anAppie?Why would you—where did you get that idea?” My tone is defensive—too defensive—and Josh gives me a funny look.
“Youwouldn’tdate one,” he says. “That’s the point. All those things are basically impossible, and they’re still more likely than Dad using a treadmill in his living room.”
My stomach drops. “Right.Oh.Right. You’re so right. So totally unlikely.”
A week ago, those words would have felt like truth. But now they feel hollow and, I don’t know, almost like a betrayal somehow? Is it really fair that I’m sitting here dreaming about Felix’s homemade chicken marsala while insisting to my brother I wouldneverdate him?
Last night, I mostly forgot Felix evenwasa hockey player. When we were laying on the floor and listening to music, talking about his grandmother, he was just…Felix.When I woke up this morning in the most comfortable bed I’ve ever slept in, wearing his clothes—clothes that still smelled like him—I wasnotthinking about the fact that he’s an Appie.
Across the room, a doctor pushes through the double doors that lead into the ER, pauses, then moves again as soon as his eyes land on us. He looks youngish, probably Josh’s age, and he’s definitely the most handsome doctor I’ve ever seen in Harvest Hollow—handsome enough that if my head wasn’t so full of Felix, I might feel a spark of interest.
But do Iwantmy head to be so full of Felix? As a test, I focus all my attention on Doctor McDreamy and try to feel…I don’t know. Something? Anything?
“Doctor Sharpe,” Josh says as the doctor finally reaches us.
“Hey. I checked on your dad and did some digging,” the doctor says. “Looks like we’re waiting on an attending cardiologist to take one final look at the EKG to make sure everything checks out. The one at the hospital right now is currently in surgery, so they’ve paged the one on call and are waiting for him to call in. It could be any minute, but…” He weighs his hands in front of him. “It could just as easily be another hour. Sorry you’re still waiting.”
Josh nods. “Thanks for giving it to us straight.”
Doctor Sharpe nods, his eyes drifting to me, and he lifts his lips in a polite smile.
I wait for that tingling that usually happens when I make eye contact with an attractive man, but I could be making eye contact with my grandma for all the tingling I’m feeling right now.
I watch the doctor walk away and sink into my chair, immediately thinking of the way my skin lit on fire when Felix wrapped my hand in his last night. Or even just the way my pulse skyrocketed when his first text message came through.
I like him.
He plays professional freaking hockey, and I still like him.
I always said I’d never do it, but honestly, that feels like such a dumb line to draw now that I’m really getting to know Felix. Summerdidsay I shouldn’t prevent myself from getting to know someone amazing because of some arbitrary rule I made when I was basically still a child. I’mnota child anymore.
I’m a grown woman, and I reallywantto like Felix.
A flurry of excitement fills my chest. Even just acknowledging this is what I want has me flustered. What’s going to happen when I see him again? When I’m face-to-face with his gorgeous hair and incredible brown eyes? And the tattoo!Oh.That tattoo is possibly the sexiest thing I haveeverseen.
I manage to keep my phone out of my hands and my thoughts (mostly) PG—my brotherissitting directly beside me—until half an hour later, when an orderly pushes Dad through the big double doors in a wheelchair, Mom walking behind him carrying his coat and her purse and what I’m guessing is a stack of discharge paperwork.
Josh immediately fusses over Dad, so I move to Mom’s side, pulling her into a quick hug. “How are you holding up?”
She gives me a startled look, like she’s surprised by the gesture, but it only lasts a moment before her expression shifts into something warm and tender. “Oh, I’m okay. Got a list a mile long of changes we’re supposed to make, and we’ve got an appointment with a cardiologist next week.”
“Changes?” I tilt my head toward Dad. “How do you think he feels about that?”
“Oh, you know your father,” she says knowingly. “But so do I. I’ll get him moving one way or another. And Lord knows he only eats what I put in front of him as long as he isn’t at the sports bar, so I’ve got more power than he thinks.”
A surge of…something…moves through me. Warmth, I guess? I have always loved my parents—I know this. But that love has always been sort of abstract and intangible. Not quite obligatory, but also not something I’m actively practicing. I love them because they are my parents and that’s what we do. We love family even when it’s hard. Even when it’s complicated and messy and uncomfortable.
But I’ve definitely kept them behind a wall the past few years. A thick one. One I needed if I had any hope of figuring out what I wanted my life to look like. I was so sure I didn’t want it to look like theirs, and honestly, I still feel that way. But for the first time, I’m wondering if maybe,possibly?it doesn’t have to be all or nothing. Maybe it’s the thought of losing Dad that’s done it. Do I wish he cared a little more about classical music? About the cello? Sure. Would I rather have him as he is than not at all?
Absolutely.
I reach out and squeeze Mom’s hand. “Will you let me know if there’s anything I can do? Come over and take walks with him, maybe?”
