Page 87 of Love Me Boldly

“Hockey camp. Turns out she has a son who was there.”

“What the…? A son?” He paused, and it took him a minute to ask, “Yours?”

“Not a chance, and it’s actually a long story that’s not mine to share. But yeah, so I’m glad you called, because you should know I’m here. In Deer Creek.”

Silence hit, and then Eli didn’t say anything, and my pulse kicked up. The man had mastered the silent pause when shock hit. It wasn’t exactly the excitement I thought he’d share.

“You don’t…are you okay? That I’m here? It’s not forever, but I figured since I saw her and we talked some?—”

“Has she told you?”

“About her son, Jonah? Yeah, she told me all about that. Him,” I quickly corrected. Jonah wasn’t athator a thing. He was a cute little kid.

“Not her son. Shit.” He cursed again, and now that kicked up pulse started racing when I remembered what he said earlier. She was at the hospital.Why?

“Eli,” I said with a warning tone.

“I can’t…I can’t say much, but well, shit. I saw her leaving her gynecology appointment.” So she had a woman’s exam. Big deal. “She didn’t exactly seem happy to see me, Graham, and then a nurse came up to her, handed her a card, and said she could call if she had any questions before the biopsy results came back.”

“What?” I was glad I was sitting. “Biopsy? What…hers?”

“It could be anything. Probably should be minding my own business, but yeah. I mean, I don’t know what’s going on, but I could find out.”

“No.” Absolutely not. “You’re not breaking into a patient’s files for me, Eli, and besides.” I paused and cleared my throat. “She’s going to be at my rental any minute for dinner, actually.”

“Really?” He chuckled then, more surprised than amused. “I wouldnothave imagined she would have given you the time of day again.”

“I can be persuasive.” Tenacious, actually, was what she called me, but my humor quickly faded. “What else could it be? Give me something other than the worst-case scenario that’s running through my mind.”

My mom died of cancer. For weeks before that diagnosis, I’d heard that whispered word when my parents didn’t think I could hear.

“It could be a lot of things. Benign would mean not cancer. But that could still mean a growth of some sort.” He sighed through the phone and then yawned. “It could come back as nothing, too. Scar tissue? Maybe an infection? It’s hard to tell without knowing her symptoms or why she had it done. And even then, it’s all guessing and hoping until the results come back.”

“Yeah.” Dammit. I didn’t want to know this. Ishouldn’tknow this. “I should go. I have to figure out what to do with this.”

“I’m sorry, Graham. I probably should have kept my mouth shut, but I was so surprised, and then I didn’t know if that was something you’d want to know anyway.”

“It was. Itis. I’m glad to know it.” Would she tell me? Was it any of my business? And now that I knew…what did I do with it? “I’m just not sure if it’s my business yet.”

And wasn’t that a hard thing to realize? Holly and I could have very different ideas of how we wanted this night to go. I definitely knew we had different ideas on how the next six weeks should go.

“So, you’re in Deer Creek, then.”

“Yeah.” I laughed a little and looked down at the floor. “Figured I had six weeks with nothing to do, so why not?”

“Why not?” He chuckled with me and then sobered. “You talked to your dad? Told him?”

“Not yet.”

I did, all those years ago when I was worked up about the fact her dad killed Sophie. My dad showed up at one of our games in Raleigh, something I’d expected and known was happening. Having my dad in the crowd supporting me, despite growing up in Raleigh, always meant the world to me. After Mom died, he was all I had. Thank God he hadn’t fallen apart like Holly’s dad had. It took him two minutes of watching that game to clock that something was wrong with me.

After the game, our coach gave me permission to go have dinner with my dad instead of the team. I met him at a restaurant across from our hotel. He hadn’t let go of our hug on the sidewalk outside before he said, “Tell me what’s going on.”

I broke down in tears. Right there on the sidewalk in the city where I grew up, where anyone could see me. I couldn’t hold it in. Not then. Not around my dad.

It all spilled out over drinks and appetizers, and by the end, all Dad said was, “I’m sorry, Son. Sorry you’re going through something so difficult.”

No judgment, at least not verbally. No anger or disappointment. Life was life, and we all got kicked in the teeth once in a while. He understood that more than most.

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