Page 41 of Check the Halls
The idea of being surrounded by friends and pretending to be happy about being another year older seems exhausting.
As though reading my mind, Foster says, “If you really don’t want a big fuss, I’m sure I can convince her to just do a small dinner like last year.”
“Except I get to come this year,” Austin pipes up. His fear of missing out is second to none.
I would feel bad saying “no” when Beth went to the trouble of planning this for me. Hanging with my teammates for a couple of hours, letting them bring out a cake and sing to me is a small price to pay if it makes my sister happy. “No, it’s fine. I don’t want to disappoint her.”
Foster sighs. “Good. Because she’s really excited about it. She’s already talked to team management about it and they’re on board.”
Jesus, that’s going to be a lot of people. “Can’t wait.”
I hit the showers letting the water pound some of the irritation out of my body. I stay there for a long time until the echo of my teammates' voices and laughter fades as they all leave. Until it’s just me and the steady hiss of the water drowning out the noise in my head.
I tilt my face up, letting the stream hit me full force. My body’s sore from the game, but I’ll take that ache any day over the ache in my chest that won’t let up.
When I can’t stand still any longer, I make my way back to the blissfully empty locker room.
I take my time getting dressed, pulling on my clothes like they weigh a hundred pounds each.
Before heading out, I check my phone, not expecting much. But to my surprise, there’s a new text.
Valentina: Nice game.
For a moment, I just stare at the screen.
I dated Valentina for a few months last year—back when I was trying to prove to myself that I could move on, just like Maddy had. She was gorgeous, confident, the kind of woman any guy would be lucky to have on his arm. And for a while, I convinced myself it could work. That if I tried hard enough, I’d feel something real.
But no matter how much I wanted to, we had nothing in common. The conversations never went deeper than surface level, and the effort of pretending exhausted me. We both knew it was over and called it before Christmas. I haven’t heard from her since.
By all accounts, I should be thrilled. A text from a stunning model after a great game? That’s supposed to be a win.
But all it does is leave me feeling hollow.
Because it’s not from the right person.
CHAPTER 14
MADDY
“Ican do this,” I whisper to myself as I stare at the foreboding white building in front of me. “I can do this.”
My mouth believes in me. So must my tongue, vocal chords, and whatever other parts of the body are responsible for speech.
Given my erratic pulse pounding in my ears, my heart has its doubts.
I’m completely unable to take a deep breath, so my lungs aren’t too confident either.
And given the fact that I’m perspiring through my silk blouse, I take it that my sweat glands think I’m screwed.
I hate hospitals. I avoid them whenever possible. Haven’t set foot in one since we lost Dad. I’m twenty feet from the entrance, but I can already smell the antiseptic they use on every surface. The incessant beeping of monitors. The sight of people that need to be there, either sick themselves, or sick with worry for someone they love.
More than that, it’s what hospitals represent. Loss. Heartache.
I didn’t always feel like this. When I was a teenager, I volunteered at my local hospital once a week. It was a program for kids to gain experience, and it looked great on university applications. But even then I’d only worked at the coffee shop, selling snacks and drinks to people in the lobby, far away from any of the inpatient units.
That’s not what’s in store for me today. Today, we’re touring the pediatric unit with our ambassadors. My stomach churns at the thought of all the children in there. Kids who should be in school with their friends but instead are stuck in hospital beds, hooked up to machines for reasons completely out of their control.
It’s not fair.
