Page 59 of Comeback
“What sort of flowers do you send to someone with a sick parent?” he asks.
My brows rise in question.
He lets his hand holding his phone drop to his thigh. “Sabrina’s mom is recovering from cancer treatments.”
I nod slowly.
“Yeah,” he says. “That’s why she left last winter. I feel like such an ass. I should have known something was up. I knew it wasn’t like her to just disappear.”
“White.”
His brows tug together.
“White roses for sympathy.”
“Right. Thanks.” He picks his phone back up and I settle into my seat, wondering a whole bunch of things and not sure how to ask any of them.
I start with “How’d you find out about her mom?”
“We went out to dinner last night. Some vegetarian place.” He makes a face that has my lips quirk into a smile. “That’s why the studio is so important to her too. Her mom is the one who taught her to dance.”
My chest tightens. I know it’s ridiculous, but I hate that she told him that and not me. I should be happy they’re talking and she’s sharing with him. And I am. I just wish she’d confided in me as well.
It’s a stupid thing to wish but that doesn’t seem to make me want it any less.
Sunday afternoon, the adrenaline kicks in as soon as we file into the locker room and start getting dressed for warmups.
Graham saunters over, knocking me on the arm before he speaks. “Yo, Holland. Ready for today?”
“Yeah. I’m ready.”
“Are you sure? Because I’m happy to jump in if it’s all too overwhelming for you.”
“Fuck off, Graham.” Brogan takes a step toward the guy, but I put out a hand to stop him.
Graham smirks. Fucker.
“Aww, come on. I’m just messing around. It’s a big night. Your first start. Nothing is better than the excitement at the start of the game. The lights, the music, the screams of the crowd. Though I guess those last two are wasted on you.”
“I swear to god, Graham.” Brogan’s jaw clenches as he stares my nemesis down.
He holds his hands up in surrender. “Just stating the obvious.”
Graham takes two steps back and then turns away. Brogan glowers a few seconds longer before he looks at me.
“You good?” he asks me.
“Yeah. He’s just trying to get in my head. And yours.”
“I hate that guy,” Brogan seethes.
“Everyone does.”
Despite my best efforts to keep Graham from getting to me, as I walk out onto the field, I can’t help but wonder what it’d be like to step out here and feel the full weight of the experience. I accepted my hearing loss a long time ago and the limitations that come with it, but there are times when I wish people didn’t have to make so many concessions for me.
When we get into the first huddle and Cody calls the play, then takes an extra second to say it directly to me, I feel that first crack in my armor.
The second crack comes in the second quarter when the batteries on my hearing aids go out. I swap them out as soon as the possession is over, but I’m rattled.
