Page 69 of Home Safe

Is this going to be the straw that breaks everything apart for Danae? Is she going to realize she can’t be with a professional athlete? Can’t be withme? This is who I am—what if that’s not enough for her? Too much for her?

I text Sam to let her know that Danae’s going to call me tonight. Then I head to the condo to pace my room for the next three hours.

I stare at Danae’s tear-streaked cheeks on my phone screen, wishing I could be there in person to take her into my arms. To kiss the tears away.

She filled me in on everything she talked about with Jason’s new therapist, and it’s no wonder she tried to call four times. It’s a lot of information to process—a heavy load to carry. I hate that I wasn’t available to help her carry it right away.

In all of our conversations over the past few days, Danae never mentioned that they were going to meet with this therapist for the first time. Apparently, she wanted to fill me in afterward, thinking that she could handle it on her own without burdening me. I wish I had known that she was walking into this, so I could have tried to think of a way to support her. I know that therapy sessions with Sam and Ian weren’t easy experiences for my parents.

Her screen tips to the ceiling briefly while I hear the sound of her blowing her nose. Danae didn’t want to video call, probably for this reason, but I insisted I wanted to be able to see her face. When she picks it back up, she leans her head against the pillows on her bed, looking exhausted.

More than exhausted. Utterly defeated.

I want to crawl through the phone screen and lay down next to her, wrap my body around hers. Protect her from the heaviness. Hold her so she knows she’s not alone in this.

But I can’t. I won’t see her for almost three more weeks.

I can see in her eyes the shadow of what she hasn’t openly addressed yet. The disappointment of me not answering the phone when she'd tried to call after meeting with the therapist. I decide I should be the one to face it head-on.

“I know it had to feel extremely frustrating that I couldn’t answer when you called today. I’m sorry that you felt alone coming out of such a hard meeting,” I say.

I know I hit the mark when fresh tears well up in her eyes. Even through the video, I can see the quiver of her chin as she fights against the emotions. She presses her thumb and a finger to her eyes, then wipes her cheeks.

“You had a game. I looked it up. I know that’s why you didn’t answer,” she says, voice small. “You’re doing your job.”

I can see her fighting to maintain her composure. Fighting to rationalize away the frustration and even anger. It’s written all over her face, her demeanor.

“I really hate this, babe,” I say. I’d hoped the term of endearment might reel her in to me a little bit, but her eyes bounce away from the screen to the ceiling.

“I wish I could be there to hold you right now. To help you navigate this with Jason,” I say. “You have to know I would be there in a millisecond if I could.”

Danae purses her lips. “Yeah, well, you can’t.” Her chin quivers again. “And it’s his birthday in a couple of days, and I already know that’s going to be a whole minefield of potential explosions for him. Especially with—” she breaks off, wiping her eyes again before exhaling deeply. “Especially with you not being here. He got too used to having you around. It’s been hard for him to not see you.”

I didn’t think it was possible, but my heart manages to sink even deeper. Below ground level. “Danae, I’m sorry. I don’t know how to fix this.”

She shrugs and sits forward on the bed, as though trying to brush this off and pull herself together.

“There’s no fixing it. It’s not your fault—this is your job. There’s nothing you can do about it. This is what it is,” she says, tone resigned.

“Danae,” I say with an edge of pleading. Her eyes aren’t meeting mine through the screen. “Please look at me.” She sighs but moves her phone to make eye contact. “Please stay with me. We need to figure out some ways to cope with situations like this. Wewillfigure it out. Please don’t give up on us.”

Her quivering chin stops as she fully gives in to the sobs, covering her eyes with one hand. It’s then I notice that her fingernails are much shorter than usual, picked off below her fingertips. What I wouldn’t give to take that hand in mine, to do anything to take her pain and transfer it to my heart instead of hers.

“What’s the thought factory churning out?” I ask, and Danae gives a choked laugh.

“That I hate how much I want you here with me. That I hate how it hurts so badly not having you here, but ending things wouldn't fix it because it hurts even more to think about never seeing you again." She pauses briefly to throw a hand up in the air. "That I hate baseball even more now. That I hate feeling overwhelmed by helping Jason because I’m the adult and should be able to handle this better. That I hate that Jason has to learn to rewire his brain because the people who were supposed to take care of him and love him didn’t, and that justsucks.That I hate how I can relate to him by feeling like I wasn't enough to be loved by my parents. That I hate everything about everything in this situation,” she says, voice strained from sobs.

“I just miss you,” she adds, blowing out a breath. “It’s ridiculousthat I lived thirty-one years of my life without you, but then knowing you for eight weeks suddenly has me falling apart when you’re not around. It physically hurts to be so far away from you. I hate it.”

“Well, I don’t hate it,” I murmur, and she spears me with a look. I smile as warmly as I can through the screen. “Idohate that I’m not there physically with you. And of course I hate everything Jason’s been through, everything you’ve been through. I hate how overwhelming all of this is—and itisoverwhelming. You shouldn’t feel guilty for being overwhelmed,” I say, and she inhales slowly. “But I don’t hate that you want me around. I kinda love that.”

I’ve managed to coax a smile out of her with those words, and I’m taking every small victory at this point. “I can change your flights to get you here the first day of spring break so we can see each other two days sooner.”

Danae sighs. “Tempting. But I promised Jason he could go to a birthday party for a friend from school that weekend and that we’d go to the zoo.”

“I bet there’s a zoo here. I could find some kid’s birthday party for him,” I joke. Now the smile spreads fully across her cheeks, erasing the sorrow lines.

“It will be okay. We’ll be okay,” she says.

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