Page 29 of Broken Secrets
ME
All done. I have the same heart condition as my dad. Mild, nothing serious. Coming out now.
Derek
That’s amazing news. Can’t wait to hear everything.
As I walk back through the waiting room toward the exit, I pass the woman who was nervously flipping through magazines when I arrived. She’s still there, still waiting, still bouncing her leg. I want to tell her that whatever she’s facing, whatever test results or diagnoses wait for her, she’s braver than she knows for being here.
Instead, I push through the doors into the afternoon sunshine, where Derek is already waiting by his car, book forgotten in his eagerness to see how I’m doing.
“So?” he says as soon as I’m within hearing distance.
“So,” I say, pulling out my phone to text Mom the news. “Turns out I really do have my father’s heart.”
CHAPTER EIGHT
My heart poundsas I sprint toward the goal, but it’s the good kind of pounding that comes from pushing myself, not the scary racing that had me convinced something was seriously wrong.
The ball comes my way. I time my jump, connect with my forehead, and watch the ball sail past our backup goalkeeper into the upper right corner of the net.
“That’s what I’m talking about, Kline!” Coach Martinez’s voice carries across the field, and I can hear the relief in it. I jog back toward the center circle, wiping sweat from my forehead with the hem of my jersey. My chest feels tight, but it’s the good kind of tight that comes from exertion, not the scary kind that had me convinced I was dying.
“You look happy,” Derek calls from the sideline where he’s waiting for his own practice to start. He’s leaning against the fence in his goalkeeper gear, gloves hanging from his belt, dark hair damp with sweat from whatever drills his team just finished.
“All right, ladies!” Coach Martinez blows her whistle. “Cool down and stretch. Good practice today.”
As I walk toward the bench to grab my water bottle, I catch Derek’s eye again. He jerks his head toward the bleachers, eyebrows raised. The space under the bleachers is dim and cool.
It smells like old paint and teenage secrets, the kind of place where couples have been sneaking away for decades. Derek’s already there when I arrive, sitting on the concrete step with his goalkeeper gloves beside him.
“Hey,” he says, standing as I approach. “How was practice?”
“Good. Really good, actually. I scored during corner kick drills, and Coach seems less worried about me collapsing on the field.”
“That’s amazing.” He pulls me closer, his hands settling on my waist. “How are you feeling? About everything?”
“Better than I expected. Scared sometimes, but also… relieved? Like, now I know what I’m dealing with instead of imagining all the worst-case scenarios.”
He reaches over and tucks a strand of hair behind my ear, the same gesture that made my heart skip the first time he did it. But now it feels familiar, comfortable in the best way.
“I’ve been wanting to ask you something,” he says, his hand still lingering near my face.
“What?”
“This weekend. I was thinking we could do something fun. Something that has nothing to do with family drama or heart conditions or any of the heavy stuff we’ve been dealing with.”
“I’m listening.”
“The pier. Saturday night. There’s a sunset that’s worth seeing, and I thought we could get dinner at that fish place you like, maybe walk on the beach after.”
“That sounds perfect,” I say, and mean it.
“Yeah?” His smile is like a sunrise, warm and bright.
“Yeah. I can’t remember the last time I did something just because it sounded fun.”
His expression grows serious. “I’ve been wanting to tell you something else too.”
