Page 135 of Things I Wish I Said
I nod even while my chest squeezes.
“I know Ryleigh’s probably mentioned the trip to LA for the Gatorade awards . . .”
I nod again. “Yeah.”
“I’m letting her go. With you,” she adds.
I search her gaze, the rush of excitement I feel fading as I take in her sober expression. I only saw Ryleigh yesterday, and yet something has changed. I can feel it.
“I’ll take good care of her,” I say, hoping that’s what this is about.
Jill fidgets, wringing her hands in front of her chest. “Ryleigh told me she doesn’t want any further treatment,” she says, her voice tremulous as if her words are a car traveling over a street riddled with potholes. “She doesn’t want to do the trial and chemo hasn’t worked, so . . .” She shrugs, the gesture incongruous to her words, as if she’s trying to resign herself to the notion.
I swallow and stare out at the road. I have no idea what this means. Ryleigh promised me she’d consider my offer.
“You already knew,” she says, her voice thick.
A long exhale escapes my parted lips before I find the strength to meet her gaze again. “I wasn’t certain.”
“This trip, it means a lot to her.”
“I know.”
“I can’t help but feel like this is some kind of goodbye for her, and not just to soccer.” Her voice cracks, and she bites her lower lip like doing so will hold herself together.
Nausea slides through my gut like a slippery eel, the pain in her expression eerily similar to the pain in my mother’s the day they told me about my father.
While Dad was strong, my mother had a bit more trouble masking her emotions, and suddenly, I’m brought right back to the day they told me.
Dad’s dark gaze was steady and dry, acceptance in every word and line of his face while my mother’s blue gaze told another story.
“How long does he have?”I asked them.
Mom glanced at Dad then back at me but he was the one to answer.“The doctor said anything is possible, but we’re planning that trip out to the Hamptons this summer, and we’ll make the holidays this year count. We’re hoping with any luck, we get a year.”
I remove my baseball cap and run a hand through my hair before putting it back on again, unsure of what Jill wants from me.
Today was not the visit I was hoping for.
I’d come here excited about Ryleigh. Excited about the future for the first time in a long time, which I realize is foolish. Standing here now, I clearly see the error of my ways, hinging my hopes—my happiness—on a girl who's dying when I know better. Still, whether I like it or not, I’m not sure I can erase my feelings for Ry just because it suits me.
What a fucking masochist.
“I’m not sure what to say, here, Jill.” It’s the most honest thing I’ve said in a long time. I’m at a loss. Clueless as to what my next move should be, and I’m all out of comfort to give.
“I want to ask you for a favor,” she says, with a conviction that makes me listen.
I search her eyes, warily, as if I can read the answer. “Okay?”
“Make her change her mind.”
Her words stab like a dagger. “Jill, I’ve already tried—” I shake my head, take astep back.
“If anyone can do it, it’s you.” She reaches out, grabs my hand, and squeezes. “I see how she looks at you. The way she talks about you when you’re not around. She’s in love with you.”
My throat bobs. Her words hurt.
“Take this trip as an opportunity to show her there’s more to life than soccer. Show her there’s still so much to live for, that she just has to want it bad enough to fight.”
