Page 27

Hallie

My knee is bouncing due to the adrenaline coursing through me. I’m sitting, watching it happen, and still I can’t stop the movement.

It’s a good distraction I suppose, watching the nerves rattle in my body, knowing I can’t control them.

Feels like I can’t control anything right now.

Luke called me this morning to tell me that he had brought our dad into the emergency room to get checked out after he had been spiking a fever over the past two days. He was immediately admitted to the hospital for testing.

Because that’s what happens when you’re in your second remission from blood cancer. Something as simple as an unexplained fever or fatigue throws up major red flags for a possible relapse.

I have a vivid memory of the day we found out his cancer had come back a few years ago. He had worked so hard to fight it the first time, and just like that, we were told he’d have to do it all over again.

Hope is a dangerous thing, and I learned to stop hoping a while ago. Unfortunately, I let my defenses down, and spent the last few weeks letting hope sneak its way in again, making me believe that not only do I get to finally start living my own life, but that there’s a possibility I could have Rio with me while I do.

Silly of me to get so comfortable.

Well, I’m sure as hell not letting myself hope now. I’m planning for the confirmation that my dad’s cancer is back, emotionally preparing myself for it. I’ll handle it, just as I did the first and second time we were told.

In a way, it gets easier to receive the same bad news. There isn’t a fear of the unknown looming over me. There aren’t a million questions I have rattling in my brain. I already know the steps to take. I know the emotional toll that’s coming, but I also know how to control myself from breaking down or showing my fear. I’ll make a plan. We’ll get him back into treatment. I’ll handle it.

I was only nineteen the first time we found out my dad was sick, and the one person I wanted comfort from was him because that’s how it works. Parents take care of their children. Then suddenly, I was taking care of him. I wanted to cry and tell him how scared I was. I wanted to admit everything I was worried about so he could tell me not to be. But he was scared himself, so I pretended I wasn’t, and I’ve been pretending ever since.

The waiting room is eerily quiet with only the three of us in here. Me, my brother, and his wife. My dad has been going through testing all day, so Sarah got a sitter to stay with their son so she could be here for my brother while we wait for the results.

I’m glad they have each other, and I’m thankful that my brother was able to be here and keep me updated while I was making the six-hour drive from Chicago.

While yes, Luke has had a sick parent for as long as I have, we’ve had very different experiences. In a way, he was able to separate himself, living out of state and not having to see the daily decline the way I witnessed it firsthand.

Luke wasn’t the one who was up with him while he was sick from chemotherapy or begging him to eat when he didn’t want to, so I’m sure this is all quite shocking to him. Eventually, he’ll figure it out too, how to manage his expectations. How we always have to be ready for the other shoe to drop.

He and Sarah are sitting down the row from me. He’s got his hand on her thigh, holding on to her like a lifeline, and she’s rubbing his back soothingly. Luke is visibly stressed while Sarah is the picture of strong and steady and I’m... envious.

I’m envious that Luke has a partner to lean on. Someone he can tell how scared he is. Someone he can break down to. I’m happy for him, but envious too. Envious that during the years I spent taking care of my dad, he had the chance to start his own life and family.

My only companion today is a soap opera playing on the waiting room television in front of me. It’s not doing it for me. It’s too dramatic when I need it to be the opposite. Too emotional when I can’t be. So, without anyone else in the room, I grab the remote and change the channel.

I don’t know what I’m looking for. At least, I don’t think I do until I flip to a random sports network and find commentators discussing tonight’s matchup between the Chicago Raptors and the Boston Bobcats.

Rio instantly comes to the forefront of my mind, which is a nice distraction from the stress.

I haven’t listened to his voicemail yet. I haven’t returned any of his texts either because I was busy driving. But there’s the part of me that doesn’t want to respond because I don’t want to lie to him.

I’m going to have to tell him everything, especially if the tests confirm what I think they will. I’ve spent all this time avoiding the topic, but now I don’t see how I can anymore.

This is what’s been holding me back from giving us another shot. It’s not that I don’t want to open up to him about what the past six years have looked like for me, but I’m terrified that when Rio realizes the timeline, he won’t be able to forgive himself.

I don’t want to hurt him, and this is going to.

“I’m going to go grab us some coffees while we wait.” Sarah stands from her seat. “Hallie, can I get you one?”

I offer her a forced smile. “That’d be great. Thank you.”

She squeezes my shoulder on her way out of the waiting room.

With only me and my brother left, he moves from his chair to take the one next to me, both of our attention on the screen.

He nods towards it. “Even after all this time, you still watch his games?”

“Pathetic, huh?”

“Completely.” I smack him in the shoulder with the back of my hand, but he just laughs. “Kidding.”

We sit in silence, listening to the commentators discuss the matchup between Boston and Chicago, until eventually, Luke speaks up.

“You didn’t have to come, you know. I could’ve called you after the results came back.”

I shake my head. “I couldn’t wait around. I felt like I had to do something.”

“Yeah, I get that.” He sounds exhausted. “Honestly, I have no idea how you did this for so long on your own.”

Well, I didn’t really have a choice.

It’s on the tip of my tongue, but I can’t say it. Today is not the day to make him feel worse than he already does.

“And for the Raptors,” one of the commentators on the television says, stealing our attention. “Forward Victor Thompson has been added to the injured reserve list and tonight, defenseman Rio DeLuca is a healthy scratch. Which is a big surprise because Boston is DeLuca’s hometown, and I know he’s got a whole local fan club here to watch him.”

What the hell?

I grab my phone to text him, but before I can, my dad’s doctor comes out of a side door, headed straight for us. My brother and I stand as she approaches, prepared to get some answers from the oncologist that’s helped my dad since we first moved back here for his treatment.

Sarah walks back in the room to meet us, dropping the coffees onto a nearby side table and slipping her hand into my brother’s.

“Hey, guys,” Dr. Young says. “Long day, huh?”

Neither Luke nor I answer her.

“I’ll cut straight to the chase here.”

In that half of a second, I brace for impact, telling myself about the bad news before she can.

“His test results look good,” Dr. Young says. “We ran the usual ones, and nothing is showing signs of a relapse.”

“Oh, thank God.” My brother exhales, hands braced behind his head. “He’s okay?”

Dr. Young smiles. “He’s okay. His temperature is back in the normal range, and he hasn’t spiked a fever since he’s been here. But he is fairly dehydrated, so I want to keep him overnight, get him some fluids, and keep an eye on him.”

“Yeah. Yeah, of course.” Luke immediately turns to Sarah and hugs her, holding on with everything he’s got, but I don’t let myself dip into the emotional relief he’s experiencing.

I keep my composure, asking all the follow-up questions until I feel satisfied in knowing he really is going to be okay. Even then, the only shift in my expression is a simple smile when I say, “Thank you, Dr. Young.”

“Of course, Hallie. I’m going to fill your dad in on everything, but I wanted to give you kids some peace of mind. You can go back and visit him in a bit.”

“Okay. Thank you.”

Luke and Sarah are hugging again, this elated relief being shared between them, and I’m just standing there, not knowing what to do with my hands. Instead, I refocus on the television because not focusing on something feels awkward and uncomfortable while my brother and his wife are sharing this emotional moment.

But then all my attention shifts to the glass windows lining the waiting room wall, watching a man in a beanie jog down the hall in this direction. He pulls the door open to scan the room, finding me in no time.

All my fear, stress, and exhaustion begin to bubble to the surface in a way I’ve never let it, just from seeing Rio standing in the doorway of the hospital waiting room. He’s concerned, that’s evident in his expression, but it’s also mixed with a bit of relief and a sense of protectiveness.

What is he doing here? But also, can he get to me a little quicker?

I must be in shock because I’m telling my feet to move, to meet him partway, but I’m not going anywhere. I’m frozen in place. But my disbelief doesn’t seem to slow him down, because in three quick strides he has his arms wrapped tightly around me, pulling me into his chest.

“Are you okay?” he asks quietly, lips close to my ear.

Apparently, that shock has translated into an inability to speak as well.

“What do you need?” he continues, burrowing his face against the nape of my neck.

This.

I need this. My body knows it too, as it melts into him, letting go of all the tension and stress I’ve been carrying. Because what I’ve always needed is this .

Taking a deep breath, I inhale his scent, finally coming to when I wrap my arms around his waist and hold on. I grip his flannel shirt in my fists, bury my face against his chest, and close my eyes.

“Hallie, baby,” he whispers. “I’ve got you.”

He has literally no idea what’s going on, but still he holds me, one hand slipping into my hair, palm cupping my head as he keeps me hidden against his chest, like he’s some kind of shield that could protect me.

Maybe he could.

I have so many questions, and I’m sure he does too. I pull back slightly to look up at him, those green eyes boring into mine. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him look so concerned.

“What are you doing here?” I finally ask, swallowing down the emotion in my throat.

“Wren called me.”

Wren, my roommate, who also asked me to share my location with her before I started my drive.

“But your game—”

“My job , you mean. I took the day off. I told them I had a family emergency. My agent booked me the first flight out of Boston.”

Family emergency.

“This game is too important for you to miss.”

“Hallie, I couldn’t care less about that game right now. It’s one of eighty-two.”

Which is true, but this one felt more important than the rest.

He runs the pad of his thumb over my cheekbone, fingers still threaded through my hair, and eyes searching mine. “Are you okay?”

That question alone makes me want to cry because he’s not prying for answers to what’s going on. He’s not upset that I didn’t tell him I was here or hesitate to miss his game.

“Am I allowed to say no?”

A faint smile ghosts his lips. “Yeah, Hal. You can say no.”

I hear someone shift on their feet behind me, only to remember my brother and his wife are here.

Rio notices too, glancing over my shoulder. “Luke.”

My brother’s tone is equally dry. “Rio.”

“Come with me.” Slipping my hand into his, I lead us out of the waiting room and into the hallway where we could have some privacy. People pass by us, but it still feels more private than allowing my brother to listen in on this conversation.

“What can I do?” he asks.

“Nothing. Everything is okay.” I throw my thumb over my shoulder. “We just found out. I’m sorry you came all this way for nothing. Everything is okay.”

His eyes bounce between mine. “But you’re not.”

No. No, I’m not okay. I’ve been on an adrenaline high all day, driving here as quickly as I could, waiting for the news. And now that I’ve got it, I feel the come down fast approaching.

I shake my head to tell him no.

As soon as I admit that, my eyes instantly burn with tears, which feels so ridiculous because everything is fine.

“Come here.” His voice is hardly a whisper as he pulls me into him again.

“I don’t know why I’m crying,” I blurt out as the tears start falling in steady streams.

He rocks with me, rubbing a soothing palm down my back and letting me speak.

“I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I never cry over this kind of stuff. I’m just tired is all.”

“It’s okay to be tired.” His voice goes soft. “It’s okay to be scared too.”

The permission has more tears falling. Because yeah, that’s exactly how I’ve spent the last six years, and I’ve never been able to tell someone.

I’m not sobbing or shaking or anything like that. I’m just quietly soaking his shirt with my tears, letting it out, and it feels... good.

“I’ve never had anyone here before,” I say, hidden against his chest. “I’m just emotional over it, I guess.”

Rio’s hand halts along my spine. “You should’ve had me.”

The door behind me opens, and I look back to find Luke popping his head out into the hallway. “Dad wants to see you.”

“Okay. I’ll be right there.”

Facing Rio again, I see his calming smile before he uses his thumbs to clean up the tear streaks under my eyes. “Take your time. I’m not going anywhere.”

Words aren’t coming to me today, so again I nod, feeling too overwhelmed by him, by this day. He has absolutely no idea what’s going on, and he seems okay with that. He’s okay with just being here for me.

Wrapping my hand around the back of his neck, I pull him down so I can kiss him properly. “Thank you for being here.”

He kisses me one more time. “I wouldn’t be anywhere else.”