Page 56 of Offside Secrets
Is he okay? Do you need to sit out tonight?
I stare at the phone. Sit out? Miss the scout game because I’m emotionally compromised and exhausted? It would be the smart thing to do, probably. The safe thing.
But, I don’t do safe, do I?
He’ll be fine. I’ll be ready.
Sawyer’s watching me type, his expression concerned. “You sure about that?”
“I have to be.”
“Campbell—”
“I’m fine.” I stand up, pacing to the window that overlooks the parking lot. “Dad’s stable, the doctor says he can probably go home this afternoon. There’s no reason I can’t play tonight.”
“Except that you look like you’ve been through a war and you’ve been sitting in a hospital chair for hours worrying about your father.”
I turn to face him. “Then I guess it’s a good thing hockey players are supposed to be tough.”
Sawyer studies me for a long moment, then checks his watch. “I should head to practice. I’ll let everyone know you’ll be at the game tonight.”
“Thanks.”
He stands, grabbing his keys. “And Cam? Call Sutton.”
My chest tightens. “What?”
“Call her. Tell her what’s going on. If this thing betweenyou two is headed where I think it is, well, she’d want to know.”
After he leaves, I pull out my phone and scroll to Sutton’s contact. My thumb hovers over her name, remembering all my unanswered texts from the past few days. The gossip blog photos. The way she’s been radio silent all week.
She has her own problems right now. Board members breathing down her neck, media scrutiny, probably a dozen meetings about damage control. The last thing she needs is me calling to dump my family drama on her.
I put the phone away and settle back into the chair next to Dad’s bed. He’s awake now, looking more like himself but still pale around the edges. “How long was I out?”
“About an hour this time. How do you feel?”
“Like I got trampled by a herd of particularly vindictive cattle.” He tries to smile, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “You look worse than I do.”
“Thanks. Really building up my confidence here.”
“Keep me distracted.” Dad shifts in the bed, studying my face with that parental radar that never seems to shut off. “Tell me what’s going on with you?”
Where do I even start? The scouts who’ll be watching me play tonight while I’m running on no sleep and maximum stress? The woman I’m falling for, who won’t return my calls? The fact that I’m terrified of leaving him alone while he’s dealing with this disease?
“Just worried about you,” I say.
“Bull-hockey. That’s not all of it.”
I raise an eyebrow. “Bull–hockey?”
He chuckles, a sound that’s good to hear right now. “It’s better than the four-letter word I want to use.”
I lean back in my chair, suddenly feeling every one of my twenty-nine years and none of them at the same time. “There’s a lot going on right now.”
“You feeling pressure about tonight?”
“Some, but I’m also excited. But...” I trail off, not sure how to explain Sutton without sounding like a lovesick teenager.
