Page 68

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Buck’s eyes drooped, his breathing less labored. The morphine had helped. Had also made him groggy. Gracie reached for the remote and flipped the TV off.

“Don’t you dare,” her dad growled, eyes still closed. “I’m seeing how this plays out if it’s the last thing I do.”

“Why?” Gracie sighed, tempted to do a little growling of her own. “The game’s been in a rain delay for over an hour. There’s nothing to see.”

She stood from her chair and paced to the window. Torrents of rain pummeled the parking lot below. A storm similar in velocity to the one raging in St. Louis had settled over the hospital. Where was her sister?

“Turn it back on.”

“Why is it so important? It’s just a stupid game. I don’t get it. People are more important than games. People shouldn’t be at games. They should be here. I just—I don’t—why isn’t anybody here ?” Instead of there .

“Gracie...” His eyes were open, barely. They’d exchanged the oxygen mask for his regular nasal cannula, which was hissing. “It’s not just a stupid game.” His voice weakened with each word. “It’s love.”

“Love? Please.” Gracie batted tears from her cheeks.

“People love the game... because they love people.” He coughed, a small rumble in his chest. “Noah... what he did... it was about that boy. That was the only way... Noah knew how to love.”

Gracie’s eyes burned with more tears. “What about me? That night was the hardest thing I’ve ever had to go through. I needed Noah to love me.”

“He did. He does. Don’t you see he wants to be your hero too? Now—” Her dad jabbed a finger at the TV. Gracie huffed a big sigh, then punched it back on.

“If he wants to be my hero, he sure has a funny way of going about it.”

“Men usually do.” Her dad grabbed her hand, his grip weak. “But don’t you think it’s time to stop pushing him away?” His grip trembled and he worked to catch his next breath.

“Dad? Are you okay?”

“I will be. If I know you don’t blow it in the final inning. I’m begging you, Gracie...” His next words came out no more than a whisper. “Go.”

Dad couldn’t be serious. She squeezed his hand. “I’m not leaving you alone. Especially not now.”

“Sweetheart, I’m not alone. I’ve never been alone and neither have you. And right now it’s not your hand that’s going to get me to where I’m going anyway.” Nodding his head to the door, he said, “But I know a man who might lose his way if you don’t grab hold of his hand. Now go.”

“Absolutely not.” So what if her dad made a small point? So what if he made her think that voice she heard out in the parking lot had been real? So what if maybe all those times she’d felt alone had been more about her pushing everyone, including God, away rather than actually being abandoned? So what if a huge part of her right now at this very moment was aching to run as fast as she could back to Noah?

Now wasn’t the time for epiphanies and grand gestures. Now was the time to be with her dad. “If I leave, who’s going to stay with you?”

“Me.” Shorty wheeled into the room. “I’ve put up with him for nearly eight weeks. What’s a little while longer?”

“Same here.” Wanda, the nurse they sometimes jokingly referred to as Nurse Ratched, stepped into the room. This time she wasn’t wearing her white uniform. Just a pair of jeans and a sweater. “I’m off duty and I’ve got nowhere better to be,” she said with a wink.

“See?” her dad said. “I’m surrounded. Give her the hat, Shorty.”

“Dad, no. I mean it. No. ” Shorty rolled over in his wheelchair and tugged her down close enough that he could plop a baseball cap onto her head. Noah must have left it behind after his last visit.

When her dad motioned her back over to him, he tapped the bill and whispered the words that did her in. “Win big. For me. For your marriage.” Tears gathered at the corners of his eyes. “Win big for you. Keep holding onto hope, babe.”

Babe. Her dad had never called her babe before. He sounded like Noah.

Why did he have to sound like Noah?

Made her consider leaving. Made her consider hoping. And the last thing she could afford right now was to hope. “Dad, you have to understand. Noah and me, we...”

“What?” her dad said, his voice sounding more tired by the second. “Love each other?”

“Belong together?” Wanda said.

“Are miserable every waking second you’re not around one another?” Shorty piped in.

“Well...” She wagged her head in a sort of nod. Yes, yes, and yes. “Thing is, it’s not as simple as that. I’ve been pushing him away for so long, what if it’s too late now? I can’t just run after him and tell him I’m sorry and I take it all back, can I?”

“Yes,” all three of their voices responded.

“Really?”

“Yes,” they said again, louder.

“Right now?”

“Yes,” the trio shouted.

“But what about—”

“We’re here,” Mona’s breathless voice interrupted from the doorway.

Gracie whipped her head around as Mona, Matt, and Rachel rushed into the room.

“We’re here,” Mona said again, tugging Gracie into a quick hug. “Would’ve been here sooner, but the storm slowed us down. Thankfully it’s clearing up. If you leave now, you might be able to make it down to St. Louis before the game finishes. Go on. We’ve got this,” Mona said, pushing Gracie toward the door.

“Are you sure?” Gracie looked back at Mona, then Matt, Rachel, Shorty, Wanda, and finally her dad. “Because I’m just not sure—”

“Go,” the entire room chorused.

“We’re here with Grandpa. Go be with Noah.” Matt wrapped an arm around Rachel and pulled her close to his side. “Everybody needs at least one person in the stands rooting for them.”

“Pretty sure I won’t be able to make it past security to get into the stands,” Gracie said with a watery laugh. But she’d do whatever it took to let Noah know she was back in his corner. “Oh, I can’t believe I’m doing this.” She rushed back to the bed and pressed a kiss to the top of her dad’s head. “I love you so much.”

He cradled one of her arms with his own. “I know you do. Now go love Noah.”

After another kiss to his forehead, she backed away, ready to do just that.