Page 19 of The Golden Goalie

She opens her mouth like she’s going to say something and then looks over her shoulder. I follow her gaze over to where Aiden and Brielle are. Aiden’s back is to us, but Brielle is facing us with a worried expression on her face. I look back down at Amber and piece together a few things. First of all, Brielle is the sweetest person I’ve ever met and is so good for my buddy Aiden, but she’s still an older sister. And older sisters are a certain kind of breed; I should know. I have one, and she’s always on my case about something or other. I know she does it because she loves me and thinks she’s helping, but sometimes it’s too much. Second, Amber looks like she really does want to say something to me but is terrified to do it. I’m more than intrigued, but I know she’s not going to say anything with her sister and brother-in-law only feet away. “How about we go grab something to eat, and we can talk about whatever it is on the way,” I suggest.

Her face pales even further. “No...no eating.”

My concern ratchets up another notch. I take a step closer and can’t not ask her. “Amber, are you eating?”

“Please don’t mention food,” she says, closing her eyes.

“Come on. Let’s get out of here,” I say, taking control of the situation.

“No, wait. I just want to ask you something.” She shifts her weight from one foot to the other.

Whatever it is, she’s trying to work up the courage to ask. It intrigues me. But as much as I want to know what her question is, I’m more worried that she’s seconds from falling over. “Come on.” This time I put my hand on the small of her back and propel her forward. Just touching her eases something in me again, and I shake my head. I need to get past these feelings...emotions...whatever they are. I glance over my shoulder and wave away Brielle. Aiden gives me a nod, and I know that he trusts me with his sister-in-law. I’m not sure Brielle does just yet, but she will. I lead her over to my truck andhelp her up the huge step. I frown when she doesn’t fight me; that’s not Amber. I close her door and steady myself a moment before I throw my bag in the backseat and walk around to the driver’s door. I glance over at her, but I can’t see her face. She’s turned her head to face out the window, and her hair obscures her features. This feels very deja vu to several weeks ago when I had her in my truck. Part of me wonders if this is all I’ll ever get with her—just a few run-ins here and there.

“Where are we going?”

Her question interrupts my train of thought. “My house.” I don’t ask her if that’s okay, because it has to be. I need to find out what her question for me is. The drive is silent after that, and I’m okay with that. I’m not one of those people that needs to talk to fill the silence. Thankfully, Amber isn’t either. Of course, she might be asleep by now. I glance over again, but I can’t tell. When I pull into the driveway and park, she sits up. “We’re here,” I say quietly.

She doesn’t wait for me to get out of the car before she opens her door and climbs down. I make a mental note to be faster next time, so I can open her door for her and help her down. She stares up at the house, and I suddenly wish I knew what she was thinking. I grab my bag from the car and come up behind her. It suddenly hits me that it’s Tuesday night, which means my mom’s going to be here. “Uh, Amber.” She stops, and I nearly run her over. I catch myself. “I just wanted to give you a heads-up that my mom’s probably inside. Tuesdays are our night to have dinner together unless I have a game.”

“That’s nice.”

“Uh, yeah.” I shake my head at my own lack of competence. “Come on. Let's get inside.”

I walk past her and up the steps, so I can open the door. She hesitates at the door, so I walk in ahead of her. I smell food instantly, and my stomach growls. My mom comes around thecorner. “Hey, Honey. Good practice?” Her eyes shift, and she sees Amber for the first time. A broad smile forms.

I decide to take control of the situation before it spirals out of control. I’ve never brought a girl home before, and my mother knows that. “Mom, this is Amber, Brielle’s sister.” I rack my brain to think of something that would make this seem like it’s not a big deal, but I’m pretty it’s already too late.

My mother’s smile broadens. “Hi, Amber. It’s so nice to meet you. I’m Maria.”

“It’s nice to meet you.” Amber shakes my mom’s hand.

“You’re just in time. I just pulled the garlic bread out of the oven.”

I sniff the air appreciatively. I knew I smelled garlic. A tug on my arm turns my gaze downward. “Where’s your bathroom?” Amber asks, her eyes huge.

I point towards the hallway, intent on leading her there; but she shoots ahead of me. I get to the bathroom moments after her, and my heart tugs. She’s throwing up. I fist my hands, not knowing what to do with myself. I pull myself together and make my way to the kitchen where I grab a water bottle and run a washcloth under warm water. I head back to the bathroom. She’s no longer throwing up, but her head is on her arms on the toilet. “Here,” I say quietly, handing her both.

“Thank you,” she says softly.

“Did you eat something bad?” I can’t help but ask.

She laughs, but there’s no humor in it. “I’ve been doing that every day for the last five weeks.”

“Amber.” Her name sounds pained on my lips, but I can’t seem to find it in myself to care. “That’s why you’re so pale and have lost so much weight?”

She nods. “Yep. They say it’s supposed to get better once you get into your second trimester, but they’re liars. All of them.” Iwant to smile at her dramatics, but I think she’d probably throw something at me.

“Do you think you’re done...for now,” I tack on a moment later. She nods, and I step over and put my hands on her sides.

“What are you doing?” she asks.

I pull her to her feet carefully. “Just that.” I guide her out of the bathroom and to the living room.

“Can I just sit for a few minutes?” she asks, and I nod instantly. I’m pretty sure she could ask literally anything of me right now, and I’d give it to her. She sinks into the couch and closes her eyes. I expect her to open them after a moment, but they stay closed. I stand there a few minutes longer and realize incredulously that she’s sound asleep. I want to help her into a reclining position, but I’m worried it might wake her up. I settle for snagging my softest blanket off the back of my couch...thank you, Mom...and settle it over her.

“Rico.”

My mother’s voice interrupts me, and I startle. I wonder how long I’ve been staring at the sleeping woman on my couch. Satisfied she’s as settled as she’s going to be for now, I follow my mom into the kitchen. She stirs a pot of something on the stove and turns back to me. “Want to tell me what’s going on?”

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