Page 92 of The Fall
He pulls his practice jersey over his head, and I catch the flash of pale skin at his hip. I know there’s a scar there, two inches long, from a skateboard accident when he was twelve. Except I don’t know that.
Hayes is on my left, joking with Axel and Hawks as they strap on their shin pads.
My thoughts keep bouncing around my head like a rubber ball in a small room. Pittsburgh. Hayes. Erin. The three words ricochet against each other. I thread my laces through the eyelets. My brain won’t let this go. We’re playing in Pittsburgh next. Pittsburgh. Medical hub. Cancer treatment. I read on Google about Pittsburgh’s cancer center when my mind wouldn’t shut up aboutPittsburgh, Hayes, Erin, Pittsburgh, Hayes,Erin, Pittsburgh, Hayes.The names loop on repeat, a frantic, meaningless rhythm.
I look over at Hayes, at the wide smile he’s giving Axel. He’s pulling in laughter from everyone around him as if nothing in his world has ever cracked.
It’s Pittsburgh, it’s a cancer center. Erin is in remission, according to Hayes’s Instagram, and has been for a while, but…
Should I ask?
A part of me screamsno. It’s not my lane. It’s his life, his private history that he papers over with loud jokes. But remaining quiet is a betrayal, and I can’t explain why.
Pittsburgh. Hayes. Erin. I shouldn’t. But?—
Fuck fuck fuck.
I have to say something. If I’m right or if I’m wrong, it’s worth it to ask.
Hayes and Hawks are toe-to-toe as Hawks tries to balance the top of his stick on his open palm while Hayes stares at him from half an inch away from his face.
“Hey, Ems.”
Hayes tosses a look over his shoulder and completely skips over me. He can’t imagine that I would be the one who called his name.
I take a breath and try again. “Ems.”
This time, his head tips sideways. “Yeah, Kicks?”
Jesus. Get it out. “So, Pittsburgh, yeah? Our next game is up there.”
Hayes’s eyebrows jump. “Yeah…” He drags the word long.
I nod like some jerky bobblehead. Say it. Be normal. But I hesitate. Hawks has given up on the stick-balancing and dropped onto the bench, watching us.
“I was reading about the city.” Lie. I wasn’t only reading about the city—I was searching, digging, trying to understand why I couldn’t stop thinkingPittsburgh Hayes Erin PittsburghHayes Erin—fuck. “They have world-class medical care there, yeah?”
Hayes goes still. “Yeah?” His voice stays level, but an undercurrent has appeared. A warning maybe.
I should stop, crack some joke about the Pittsburgh nightlife or their terrible pizza. But I can’t, Ican’t.
“You know about the cancer center they’ve got, right? It’s crazy cutting-edge.” I’m rambling already. “They have these crazy advanced treatments, personalized immunotherapies, some really cool stuff.” Someone’s talking too much: me.
“What are you talking about?” There’s a note in his voice that tells me stop, maybe even tells me to walk it back, bury everything I’m saying, and do it quick.
“The cancer center. It’s—Pittsburgh is known for it.”
He turns fully to me, not the same guy he was ten seconds ago.
“Have you guys ever thought about checking it out?” The cliff’s edge is right there, and I’m soaring off it anyway. “For Erin.” Stop. Stop. More words aren’t helping. “I mean—I thought—if you...” I swallow hard. “With the team going to Pittsburgh—that immunotherapy stuff’s supposed to be…”
I can’t shut the fuck up to save my life.
Hayes looks at me like he wants to crack my face open, and for half a second, I brace for the impact. Everyone’s eyes are on us now. The normal practice chatter has died, replaced by an uncomfortable silence of people pretending not to listen while catching every word.
“I thought—if you ever wanted to get another opinion or?—”
“You didn’t think.” Hayes cuts me off. There’s something hard in his eyes that I’ve never seen before. “You googled some shit.” He stands, his skates half-laced. The guys around us take a sudden interest in their own gear, heads down, hands busy with tape and pads and anything that isn’t this.
