Page 32 of Your Biggest Downfall (Ravens Hockey #3)
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“You’ll be sitting in on the meeting with Austin Hart,” Iris informed me during our morning debrief of the day’s events.
I hesitated. I didn’t need to be there, but Iris and I had been working so well together over the past month that I didn’t want to say I couldn’t make it.
“Is that going to be an issue?” she asked.
I shook my head, perhaps a bit too eagerly. “No. Definitely not. I’ll be there.”
“We’ll make the official statement that he’s doing well and completed his program,” Iris stated before pausing, lowering her glasses and staring at me. “Because he is doing well... yes?”
She was trying to see if I’d seen him, but I hadn’t mentioned the letter to anyone—not until?—
My phone buzzed in my pocket, interrupting my thoughts. Why was it ringing? I always kept it on Do Not Disturb during meetings with Iris. The only people who could get through were my mom and Aunt Mae...
“My mom,” I said, grabbing my phone and completely ignoring Iris’s disapproving look.
“Hello?” I answered, my voice frantic as I turned away from Iris.
Aunt Mae’s trembling voice came through the line. “Sweetie, it’s your mom. She’s been vomiting all morning and now has a fever. We took her to the emergency room, and they’re giving her fluids, but I thought you should know. I know you’re at wor?—”
“I’ll be there in ten minutes,” I blurted out, my hands suddenly clammy with anxiety.
My chest tightened, and a wave of nausea rolled through my stomach.
My heart pounded in my ears, and my hands trembled as I clutched the phone.
My breaths came in short, shallow gasps, and it was all I could do to keep from completely breaking down.
The thought of my mom being sick enough to go to the hospital—what if it was the cancer spreading?
The thought alone made my knees feel weak, like I might collapse right there in the middle of the room.
I turned to Iris, but my throat felt tight.
I opened my mouth, but all that came was a stammered, broken attempt at an explanation.
“I—I’m... sorry, I can’t... I just.
.. I have to...” The words kept tangling together, my breath hitching as I tried to force them into something coherent.
My thoughts were racing, but my body felt slow, heavy with dread.
“The hospital... I need to go. My mom, she’s. .. she’s very sick.”
Iris watched me, her expression unreadable as I fumbled over the words.
I braced myself, expecting her to snap, to question me, to tell me I was being irresponsible.
But instead, she stood there, taking in my disheveled state, and then, without a word, she gestured toward the door. “Go,” she said, her voice calm, almost gentle.
As I reached the door, I paused and turned back to Iris. “He looks good.”
Without waiting for a response, I rushed out, my thoughts consumed with worry about what awaited me at the hospital.