Page 9 of Ending the Game

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The hotel is a short walk from the hospital under a cloud-covered gray sky.

Fitting for my mood.

Once we’re inside, it takes no time for us to check in under the reservation Mom made. Thankfully, she was thinking ahead.

We push through the door of the two-bedroom suite, both of us exhausted.

Emotionally and physically.

The space is bigger than Coach and I need. A living room and kitchenette sit between two bedrooms with a large window overlooking the street below. I cross the room and push the curtain aside to see the hospital staring back at me.

I can’t help but think I should still be there.

Coach carries my small bag into one of the bedrooms and rests it on a chair by another window. He stares out for a second, no doubt looking at the hospital like I just did, before turning around and yawning. His dark-blue eyes are rimmed in red with dark circles underneath, betraying a soul-deep exhaustion. He wraps his strong arms around me, and I lose every ounce of strength I’ve fought so hard to maintain.

The dam holding back my emotions finally buckles from the mounting pressure, and big, fat tears stream down my face, soaking his jacket as a guttural sob lodges in my throat.

Coach holds me while sobs wrack my body.

“I’m sorry,” I tell him through a mix of tears and snot.

I’m a mess.

I pull back and wipe my face on my sleeve. “These aren’t all sad tears. He’s alive. I don’t know if I truly believed it until I saw him for myself.”

“I know. I didn’t want to leave.” He rubs soothing circles on my back while I fight to calm myself down. “Everyone tells you it gets easier once your kids grow up, but they’re wrong. At least when they were little, we knew where they were. I’d rest my hand on their backs while they were sleeping, just to feel them breathe.”

I hiccup. “I need to feel him breathe, Coach. I’m sorry. I’m sure you don’t want to hear that, especially after you saw how much I’ve hurt him. But my God, I want to feel him breathe.”

Coach pulls away from me and bends his knees, so we’re eye level. “Listen to me, Carys. Don’t give up on him yet. Okay? Give him some space for now. But don’t give up.”

“How?” The one-word slips past my lips as I cry. “He doesn’t want me here, Coach.”

“There’s always a way, if you want it bad enough.”

But how many odds are already stacked against us?

“She’ssat in the waiting room for the last two days, son. She’s been helping Emerson make arrangements for Linc. Your team leader’s wife and Carys have been taking care of things for her.” My heart hurts for my friend who’s never going to get to meet his baby, and my blood pressure soars when I think about Axe pulling the trigger.

And worse, I’m having a hard time accepting that Linc’s gone and Axe is the cause. My psyche refuses to believe it, and my blendered brain isn’t helping because I can’t remember it.

“You’re really not going to see her before we leave? Maybe it would help if you talked.” My father stands at the foot of my bed, arms crossed over his chest. His eyes are pinched in annoyance.

I don’t blame him.

I can’t give him more information, and he’s not listening to what I do say.

I wanted him to leave as soon as he got here three days ago.

To take Carys and go back to Kroydon Hills, far away from this clusterfuck.

He insisted he wasn’t going anywhere until I was cleared by the doctor.

But it doesn’t look like that’s happening yet, and the doc won’t tell me how long it’s going to take.

“No, Dad. Carys can’t come back here.” I hold his eyes and make sure he feels the strength of my words. “She can’t be here.”

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