Page 33 of Halftime

Faith’s voice was tight, and I knew she was fighting tears. And she’d hate that I knew she was close to crying. She’d only cried about twice the whole time we’d dated.

“Well, how about we go to my place, you cry out whatever you need to, and then you can call her. Is that a good plan?”

She pulled me close again. “Thanks, Seb. That sounds good.”

The guys were out, but I took her to my room. If she wanted to cry, I was going to give her privacy. There was no telling when someone would show up, and I didn’t want them asking questions. I ordered pizza and grabbed some beer from our fridge. When I got back to my room, I closed the door.

Faith had curled up on the bed. My bed. I stepped over, passed her a beer, and sat down. I considered hugging her again, but getting that close on my bed might distract at least part of my brain, the asshole part, into thinking things that I shouldn’t. So I kept a little distance.

“Do you wanna talk, or try not to think about it? We could watch something on my laptop.”

She lifted her head, her rimmed-red eyes meeting mine. “I want to see her. I should have spent more time with her. When I see Coach tomorrow, I’m going to ask for some time off.”

I settled beside her, back to the wall, legs stretched over the bed. Just enough distance between us.

“It’s too bad she couldn’t come here and watch you play again. I know she’d like that.”

Faith pushed back her braid. “Could she do that?”

I stared at her. “Um, I don’t know.” I was a sophomore psych major. I did not know if stroke survivors with cancer could fly to watch a hockey game. I’d just been rambling, wanting to make Faith feel better. I must have done that. She sat up and had a hopeful expression.

“That’s a great idea. I’ll text my mom and see if she could do that.”

I had no idea if her grandmother was up to travelling, but I was glad to see some life back in Faith’s eyes. She texted back and forth with her mom for a while. I went and got the pizza when it arrived and brought it up.

“If Coach will let me know when I’m playing, they think they can come down for a weekend. Oh, pizza. Thanks!”

Maybe this plan wouldn’t work out, but Faith had something to look forward to. She wasn’t crying, and that was thanks to me, and that felt really good.

* * *

Faith

I felt lighter. There was still the knowledge that I was losing Gramma. She’d assured me she was going to fight it, but Mom had told me what the doctor said. I wanted to go home, to give up on the semester and stay with Gramma as long as I could. It was frustrating that she was so insistent I not do that.

She was proud of me for playing and had been the first person to tell me I could do this, that I could play in a men’s professional league if I wanted. Win the Cup. She and Gramps had always been my biggest fans.

She wanted me to keep playing for her. Ironic that I could’ve gone home and seen her during the first part of the semester when I hadn’t gotten time to play. But the idea of having her come and see me play again? It made me feel like crying, but good crying. And I was so grateful to Seb for thinking of it.

“Seb, thanks so much. For…all of this. I know you wanted to do something else—”

He shook his head. “No, this is fine. I mean, you just got news about your grandmother. Whatever you need.”

And then the words hit home, and I threw myself against his chest and bawled. I wasn’t proud of that. But it was sinking in, becoming real. Gramma was dying. Soon, not someday in the nebulous future. I don’t know how long he let me stay there soaking his shirt while he rubbed my back and I cried like a kid. I cried my fear and my regret and my sorrow out in a stream of tears and snot. I finally slowed down to a sniffle. This was so hard. And so unfair. She was just about done recovering from her stroke.

Seb had been great. He knew Gramma, and he knew what she meant to me. He’d come up with this idea that might work, and then he’d let me cry on him. I’d needed a friend. One that knew me, really knew me. I was so glad we’d cleared up what had happened last year, and that I had him again.

“I don’t think I’d have gotten through tonight without you.” My voice was rough, and the words came out muffled, but he got the idea.

He tightened his arm, and I turned my face up, wanting to thank him, to maybe kiss his cheek. But I misjudged, or he moved, and my lips touched his. And suddenly, it was us again. The two of us, on a bed, with chemistry that burned way too hot for friends.

10

Faith

I clutched his shirt, and he pulled me into his lap. Our lips fused together, and I didn’t know if I heard my moan or his. But our tongues were tangling, and I was reaching under his shirt, and my thoughts weren’t sad any longer. They were R rated.

Seb pulled back, chest heaving. “Faith, are you sure?”

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