Page 2 of Made for Us

“Barely,” she jokes, and I laugh. “Good news is, I think I’m going to be staying in Dallas for the summer.” I sit up all excited. “Do you think you could use a roomie?” Her voice goes lower and I have a feeling that her moving out of LA isn’t just because of her work.

“Well, does this roomie clean up after herself?” I ask her, knowing full well that she doesn’t. Even though we are twins, we couldn’t be more different. I’m the clean, quiet one, she’s the messy, outgoing one. I mean, I’m not going to say when we are together, we don’t get into trouble, but the last six years I’ve learned a lot about myself.

“The roomie is somewhat cleaner than she used to be, and she also learned how to cook,” she informs me, and I don’t have a chance to say anything else because a horn honks in the background. “Okay, my ride is here. See you on the flip side,” she says right before she disconnects the phone.

I toss the phone on the desk, shaking my head. “At least my move to Dallas won’t be uneventful.” I finish taking the pictures off the board, leaving the most special one for last.

I hold the picture in my hand, the subject the sole reason I picked pediatrics. Penelope. The little girl who I met while volunteering in the hospital in Dallas. Her black hair is in a ponytail and her eyes so crystal-blue it looks like you can see into her soul.

I had just gotten started in the nursing program and signed up to volunteer a couple of times a week. Little did I know, one day that decision would change the course of my life. She came into the hospital when she was a little over two years old. Her mother had died in the car accident when she was under the influence. It was a miracle Penelope survived because she had so many injuries, and she was all bandaged up. She had a cast on her arm and her leg, along with a slew of small injuries.

When I walked into her room, she was a little girl in a very big bed. I can’t even put into words what I felt looking at her. My feet moved without my head even registering it as I sat beside the bed and held her little hand in mine when she woke up and cried for her mom. There was no amount of soothing I could have done, so I did the only thing I could. I held her in my arms, rocking her for much longer than I should have. Telling her she was coming, knowing I was lying to her. The little girl had lost her whole world, and her grandparents had come in trying to claim her, which ended up being more of a shit show. I would show up, even on my days off, just to spend time with her. To be honest, I was at the hospital every single day. If I wasn’t in class, I was in the hospital, doing my homework in the little waiting area, just in case she needed me. It's hard to put into words the pull I had for her, but it was the easiest decision I ever made.

After spending a week in the pediatric wing with her, I knew that was where I wanted to focus my studies. I knew this was what I wanted to do. I knew I had to finish the nursing program and then I went a step further and focused on attending John Hopkins. Not sure if I would be getting in, but it was my top school, and luckily enough, I was accepted. Now here I am, getting ready to graduate tomorrow and collect my diploma. Another thing checked off my list with the next waiting to be checked off.

I knew there was only one hospital I wanted to work at once I graduated. I also knew not to get my hopes up high, but considering I was at the top of my class and I volunteered there, I was lucky enough to get an offer from them. So in one month, I will be officially walking in there as a registered nurse on the pediatrics floor.

I can’t help the smile on my face when I think about it. I can’t help but look back and run my hand over the picture. Penelope stands beside me with a huge smile on her face as she hugs my waist. It was taken not too long ago when I surprised my family at a Sunday lunch. I put the picture down with the rest of them and turn to grab an empty brown envelope. Getting up, I place it at the top of the box sitting right next to my chair. I put the cover on the box before taking one final look around.

By the time I crawl into bed, my body is exhausted, and the alarm for seven comes way too fast. I throw the covers off me before getting up and making myself a coffee before I walk over and start putting on my makeup. I have one hour to get ready before the car is set to pick me up.

I decide to wear my hair down and just curl the ends. My makeup is done in a matter of twenty minutes. After putting just some mascara on and a little bit of eyeliner, I walk over and grab the white dress that is the only thing hanging in my closet. I slip on the white spaghetti strap dress, making sure my boobs are in place. Grabbing my black high-heel sandals, I sit on the bed and fasten the straps around my ankles.

My phone rings from the bedside table, and I see it’s the driver telling me he has arrived. I stand, putting in the diamond earrings my parents gave me for my twenty-first birthday, then grabbing the blue gown and yellow honors sash, along with my phone.

I’m walking down the stairs, and the minute I open the door, I stand here in shock. There is a huge bus in front of my building. I’m shocked as my whole family, and I mean my whole freaking family, is here. I can’t help the tears that are coming down my face. “You didn’t think I wouldn’t be here.” Gabriella is the first to run to me and takes me in her arms. “I’m not even going to tell you the shit show this morning was,” she whispers, and then she’s pushed away from me when Dylan just stands before me.

“How are you even here? Aren’t you in the middle of playoffs?” I ask him, and all he does is smile at me.

“My baby sister is graduating,” he states, “but I have to be back in Dallas by five tonight.” He brings me in for a hug. “So proud of you,” he says, and I cry on his shoulder, just like I did when I was younger. He was twelve, I think, when Gabriella and I were born, and from what I remember, he was my favorite person in the world. Now he stands here with Alex and their kids.

“Can I get a turn?” I hear my grandfather on the side, and all I can do is put my hands on my mouth as he stands here with my grandmother. Both of them just beaming with pride. “Before your father and Uncle Matthew hip check me out of the way.”

I look over his shoulder, seeing my father standing beside my mother as she dabs her eyes. “You did all this?” I ask him, laughing as I hug my grandfather.

“He obviously had help,” my uncle Matthew says from beside him. “Who else could wrangle up all these people?”

I stand here in shock, seeing all my aunts and uncles. “Now, can we get back on the bus so we can get good seats?” My father claps his hands. “Let’s go, people. Got to get my girl to her ceremony.”

CHAPTER TWO

TRISTAN

“Go-go-go-go,” the coach yells at us, and my leg swings over the board as I get onto the ice, skating back to try to get the puck in the neutral zone. My heart beats so fast it echoes in my ears, just as the sound of my breathing almost feels like it’s in slow motion.

My legs feel like I’ve climbed Mount Everest five times, but the adrenaline in my body tells me to push harder. We are in triple overtime in game seven of the Stanley Cup finals. The line changes that usually go forty seconds we are putting down to thirty seconds to give all of us a chance to rest. But it hasn’t been working. Both teams are fucking exhausted, but this is what you fight for all year. The Stanley Cup is somewhere in this building, just waiting to be hoisted up. The big question is, which team is it going to be?

“Change,” the coach yells, and I skate over to the bench, swinging my leg back over, my legs almost giving out when I sit down. I try to focus on my breathing, working to get it back to normal. I reach out, grabbing a green Gatorade bottle and spraying water in my mouth before looking up at the Jumbotron. There are two minutes and seventeen seconds left of the triple overtime. Both teams have given it all we have.

I lean forward, my eyes watching everything happening on the ice. The feeling you want so much to help and you want so much to be the one who helps bring your team to that place is like the biggest monkey on my back. My legs start to shake now with nervousness as another line change is done. “We are going to try something different,” the coach says, coming over to me as I sit next to my defense partner, Ben. “We are putting Grant in for Ben’s place.”

I look at Ben, who looks at me. “If there is anyone who will take my place, it’s going to be Cooper. He’s the best defensive player.” I nod, agreeing with him. This season has been the best of my life, if I’m honest. I finally found my footing, which is crazy since I’ve been with this team for eight years. I was drafted to the team at eighteen and picked fourth overall. I thought I would be drafted and then immediately put on the team. I wasn’t. You had to earn your spot, so for two years, I busted my ass to earn my spot.

Fighting for your spot is different than assuming you will have it. It makes getting on the team so much sweeter. Every single year, I trained hard and worked my ass off to make sure I belonged on the team. The whole team is filled with superstars, so I had to definitely keep up with them.

“Stone,” the coach yells for Dylan, who looks back at him. “I want your line on there with Monti and Grant.” A couple of eyes look back at the coach and then at each other. I’m sure everyone is wondering what in the world the coach is thinking. “Grant, you good to play back?” I’m sure the only thing on everyone’s mind is, don’t fuck this up.

“Yeah,” Cooper says as we get up and make the line change. Not fast enough because the other team skates into the zone. It takes a second for us to get into position, but not before they get a shot at the net. My eyes fly to the little round black puck. The whole time, I hold my breath, hoping if they do score, I’m not the one on the ice. You always want to be on the winning line, but you also never ever want to be on the line that gets scored on. Even though no one ever blames you, you have enough blame inside yourself to go around. Steven, our goalie, sticks his leg out, and it bounces off his pad. I quickly get to the puck first, and the five of us now hustle back toward the other end. Cooper playing back by me, with Michael, Dylan, and Xavier skating ahead of us.

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