Page 5 of Love on the Sidelines

Convincing my niece that moving to Oakhaven wouldn’t derail her life’s plans was a challenge. Negotiating is what I do for my career and Emily made me pull out all the stops.

My father died of a heart attack while I was in my teens, and Emily’s dad was hit by a drunk driver five years ago. We’ve had our share of heartbreak, but we’ve been able to overcome it together.

It was one reason I wanted them to move to Utah. My mom isn’t getting any younger, and being a parent of a teen isn’t the easiest. Her blood pressure has skyrocketed since taking care of Emily and I don’t want to lose her too.

I needed five stitches and am feeling the grogginess from the laughing gas. Yes, I’m thirty-one years old and had to be given meds to relax enough to get stitches, but I’ll admit to it. In business, I’m a bulldog, so it’s definitely a thing to have weaknesses somewhere.

I’ve gotten the go-ahead from the painters, letting me know the place is ready for us. We’ll probably still be smelling that fresh paint smell, but it’ll be better than the bed I slept in last night at the Oakhaven Hotel.

My townhouse in Salt Lake is under contract and I was tempted to drive the almost hour south just to get a few hours of sleep. I moved nothing into the new place, wanting to get the paint refreshed and new carpets put in before we had stuff to work around.

I walk out of the doctor’s office, grateful to be done with that experience.

My mom doesn’t answer when I call her to let her know I’ve survived. I’m not sure what she’s doing or where she is, but I’ve lived away from her long enough to know that I can do things by myself. I run a billion-dollar company on my own. Well, more like with the help of people I’ve hired to run it.

Uber isn’t a huge thing in this town, but I manage to find one person willing to take me from the doctor to the new house. I’ll just have Mom meet me there.

Walking out of the doctor's lobby, I have to go through another hallway to get to the main doors where the Uber driver will pick me up. And who do I bump into but Slasher Ava. I think it’s a fitting nickname since she sent me to get stitches.

Her eyes are wide as she takes in the gauzy rectangle next to my eye. “Are you all right?”

“Come to gloat at my suffering?” I ask, folding my arms across my chest.

She frowns and says, “Absolutely not. I didn’t think about you coming here for the stitches. I’m here to see my grandma.”

That’s the one thing about this small town. The building we’re in houses a clinic with several doctors, the small hospital, and the rehab center.

That’s a noble thing, but why am I kind of irritated that she wasn’t super worried about me and hurried to make sure I was okay? Then again, it’s been over two hours since the incident.

Ava takes a step closer to me, examining the cotton covering my stitches.

“I’m sporting a new look. It’s called Newbie Playing Pickleball.”

A fire lights in her eyes and she says, “Oh, yeah, well, you didn’t look like you were going pro either, buddy.”

I’m trying not to laugh at how she ended that sentence, but it doesn’t go well. Instead of getting madder, I chuckle, which turns into an all-out belly laugh. Ava looks ticked about this change of events.

“How is Gran?” I ask, smiling at the memories of the bubbly older woman.

“She’s been better, but we hope she can come home soon.”

“What happened to her?” I say, glancing down the hall as if she’d just pop her head out of one of the doors on command.

Ava crosses her arms over her chest and nods. “She fell and broke her hip a couple of weeks ago when I was at work. She had to have surgery.”

My cold, dead heart twinges a bit. The Hoopers have never been super well-off, but they work harder than just about everyone I know. How Ava has got her Gran through all this, I’m not sure. But it makes me want to help.

“Tell her hi for me,” I say, getting a notification that my ride is here.

Ava grunts and says something before walking down the hallway that leads to the Rehab Care unit.

I probably shouldn’t have watched her walk away, but I’ve never really had a woman talk to me like that. Maybe it’s just been a long time since I’ve been called out on my attitude.

The drive to the new house takes about ten minutes and I’m in awe as much today as I was when I walked through the house six weeks ago. It’s a larger home than many in the vicinity and has its own private drive, which is preferable.

“Where are you?” my mom asks when I pick up her call.

“I got a ride to the new house. It’s all done.” I’m practically bouncing with excitement. The house I grew up in was a modest rambler that my parents bought at the beginning of their marriage, just a few miles away from here. I’d finally convinced Mom to sell that one when she moved up to live with my sister, and I’m sure she’s already driven to see it.

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