Page 58 of Between Love and War
I frown. “And… what?”
“The curly-haired girl,” Vince says, smug now. “You posted a story. You never post stories unless it’s team content or ad deals. Is she one of the models from the last victory party?”
Chris perks up. “Or that coffee cart girl at the gym? The one who kept writing her number in latte foam? She likes you.”
“Everyone does,” Vince mutters, mock-exasperated.
“She’s…” I pause, caught somewhere between fact and hesitation. “She’s a neighbor. And a friend.”
“A friend,” Chris repeats slowly, like it’s a word he’s never heard before.
“Dude,” Vince sighs. “You don’t even say ‘just a friend’ like that unless you’re already halfway to not just friends.”
They’re not wrong.
But I can’t explain it—not even to myself yet. Not when it’s this soft, almost-invisible thread.
“She’s just… nice to talk to,” I say. “It’s different here.”
Vince and Chris stare at the screen with the expression of people who know they’re being lied to. But I’m not lying. I don’tlikeher, I just like talking to her. And spending time with her.
After a few seconds, Vince says, “Whatever, man. You can hangout with whoever you want.”
Chris snorts. “But wearegathering the team next week. Not official training yet, just our usual mid-season prep. SEA Games are in what, seven months? You coming?”
“Yeah, sure, I’ll try.”
When the call ends, I think to myself. I’ve always moved on instinct—train, play, win, repeat. It’s been my whole identity for a decade. But now, I kind of want to just stay still.
I get up and get ready for the day.
Polly went home last night after one last dramatic retelling of her “pillow battle championship” and a very serious goodbye hug. We’d had a more structured Sunday, something I felt borderline proud of. No ice cream after lunch. Only one episode of cartoons. A single serving of popcorn duringThe Lion King.
We watched it at Lily’s. On Sundays, they roll out the old projector and let the neighborhood kids pile in with bean bags and hot chocolate. Despite it being a kids thing, Bon and Ryan were there. Apparently Ryan likes the movie. I can never tell with that guy. He’s so… closed off, it’s scary sometimes.
Kate wasn’t there though. In fact, she was nowhere to be seen yesterday. I didn’t want to bother her anymore, so I only looked for her outside. She never went out.
But I hope to see her today. No, nothope. Just… expect. I expect to see her today.
When I get out of the house, ready to ride with Kate to go to the preschool, she’s not there. Her car is, but she’s not. I go back inside my house and wait for her through the window. Maybe she’s running late.
I watch as Haley gets out with her coffee in hand and sunglasses too big. She drives off with a loud screech. I watch as their mom walks outside and hops on a tricycle. Kate is still not out. Did she already leave? Did she take the tricycle? Did she oversleep? Or… did I do something?
I probably shouldn’t do this. I walk to my back door in long strides and down the steps to my backyard.
I probably shouldn’t do this. I approach our shared gate and hesitate as I hold the handle. I’m not going to trespass intoher home when there’s a very real possibility that she isn’t even there.
I probably shouldn’t do this. I knock on her back door.
I take a breath, crack the door open, and step inside. “Kate?” I call. “Hey, I’m not breaking in, okay? Just… checking.”
No response.
It’s quiet. Too quiet. I probably shouldn’t do this.
I let myself inside, through their kitchen and into the living room. Still no sign of her. I climb the stairs and find a door slightly ajar. When I peek inside, I see a lump under the blanket, barely moving.
“Kate?” I say again, more cautious this time.
