Page 16 of The Final Faceoff
Pregnancy tests? No, that’s weird.
Greece souvenir mug? I hold it up, stare at the blue-and-white design, and drop it back in my bag. Fitting.
By the time I zip up my suitcase, I have two competing thoughts:
I am absolutely not ready to deal with this. I am so, so much less ready to deal with it alone. Hence, I’m leaving for New York, the place that’s the closest to a home. Do I need to get one of those leases? Probably. Having a place to live might be required, right?
And if you’re in New York, do you know what that means, Hailey?“Ugh, my family,” I groan, feeling the pain all the way down to my soul. My conservative father is going to lose his shit and ask me to marry a complete stranger. I know he will. He’s so traditionalist, and I am . . . well not at all.
I look at the tests before shoving them in the trash. “Someone should have mercy on me.” None of those things do, so I just throw them in the trash, assholes.
* * *
The airport in Santorini is too bright, too loud, too full of happy people who aren’t freaking out about their life choices—or lack of them. I sit at my gate, pretending like I don’t want to crawl into a suitcase and disappear.
A text from Leif pops up on my screen:When are you coming home? I know you already finished the documentary. Stop avoiding us. I don’t have much time left before training camp. Three months in case you’re wondering.
I stare at the phone, okay, it’s more like a glare. What do I answer, like seriously? I’m not ready to tell anyone. I probably have to head to the nearest doctor and have him prove those stupid tests wrong.Please, let them be wrong.
A second texts arrives,Did you survive Greece, Hail?
I exhale, pressing my phone against my forehead for a beat before typing back:Define “survive.”
And immediately something else pops in:Oh, no. What happened?
I scoff and my fingers fly through the screen,Nothing.Why do you assume something happened?
Leif: Because it’s you.
Hailey: Rude.
Leif: Accurate.
My lips twitch, even as a lump presses against my ribs. Because I want to tell him. I want to say the words and hear him say “okay” in that simple, Leif way—like this is just another thing that can be figured out.
He usually doesn’t freak out when something weird happens to me. He never judges me and he’s always there for me, right? He drops everything, just like I do. I rearrange my life to make sure I’m there for him so he doesn’t deal with shit alone. Sure, he has his family who supports him all the time. Though sometimes he doesn’t want to reach out to them. He believes he’s the family’s support and he has to be there for them, not nagging them about his own issues.
And maybe that’s exactly why I can’t tell him.
Because Leif already does too much for me and everyone in his life. He already puts me first, whether he realizes it or not. I can’t let this be another thing he takes on.
Instead, I type back:All I have with me is bad date stories. But I’m coming back to New York early.
Leif: Oh?
Hailey: Yep. I’m working on a few pitches and it makes more sense to do it from there—not that I have a place to stay yet. I’ll rent something. In the meantime, I might stay at my sister’s.
Leif: You’re staying with me, Hailey. I have a guest room with your name on it.
Hailey: No, you don’t. You’re just making shit up and will have me sleeping on the couch of your hotel room.
Leif: Oh, I left the hotel last Monday.
Hailey: What? How?
Leif: Jacob found me a great place. This time far away from Killion. I can’t believe he was going to make me live next door to my brother. What the fuck is wrong with my agent? I swear if he wasn’t that good, I would fire him.
Hailey: And you furnished it already?
