Page 45 of Take Her On

“Night, Skip,” Jamie called.

“Night, teammate.”

She sensed Jamie’s eyeroll without turning round, hearing her mutter something resembling a goodnight as she put her keys in the door.

So much had changed since the last time they were here, saying goodbye on their front steps. Truthfully, Maya could hardly keep up with her conflicting emotions. If only she could relax and trust her feelings some more.

Because tonight, change didn’t seem like such a bad thing.

Until Maya stepped into the warmth of the living room, and the sight of Grandma’s panicked face sent chills up her spine.

Chapter Thirteen

Maya

The wailing and crying echoing off the white walls made Maya shiver. She hated hospitals; she assumed most people did. The bleach and disinfectant mirrored the stench of death.

She glanced up as a porter shuffled past, too busy to make eye contact with a stranger. Who knew what horrendous things she’d witnessed or heard between these walls? Maya couldn’t understand how people could bear to face it every day.

Grandma stirred beside her, cramped up with her head resting against a water dispenser. Maya had told her to go home and get a proper rest, that she’d call her as soon as there was any news about Grandpa’s suspected second stroke, but she’d refused. Maya understood that. Grandma’s stubbornness ran through her own veins, but her tiny body curled up in the chair looked so fragile. Her bones were more prominent, poking through her pale skin under the bright hospital lights.

It terrified her. Just how human they all were. How easily they could fall apart.

A worried man with a topknot hurried past, muttering under his breath. His wild brown eyes scanned his surroundings, trying to take in the many signs, as he held a baby to his chest. The baby cried, and he rocked the bundle. Maya wished she could help him, ask what he was looking for. But before she could muster the words, he’d disappeared through another set of double doors.

She wouldn’t have been much help, anyway.

She turned to Grandma again, relieved to see the baby’s cries hadn’t woken her. Goosebumps rippled across her wrinkled skin, and she’d tightened one arm around herself in sleep.

Maya readjusted her tracksuit top, which she’d used to cover her with, then searched the waiting room for something else to keep her warm. Aside from making a blanket out of old magazines or paper towels, there was nothing.

The reception might have something.

But when she approached the desk, there was no one there, just a stack of papers and a phone that repeatedly flashed, with nobody to answer it. She worried she and her grandma had been forgotten, destined to be left waiting in some corridor between Accident & Emergency and god knows where for eternity. The signs didn’t help. “Waiting Room.” For what? For where?

Grandpa had been sent for scans hours ago, the lone clock ticking away on the back wall informed her. So where was the nurse who’d said she’d update them as soon as she could?

Maya sighed.

Grandpa hated hospitals too. He’d told her that when she’d sliced her hand open on Carly’s mum’s plant pot years ago, playing football in their garden. Maya didn’t need stitches—luckily they could just glue it—but she remembered the panic on her grandparents’ faces as they ran through the automatic doors. Grandpa’s flat cap had rested at an odd angle on his head, his kind eyes worried, with wrinkles at the edges. He’d spotted her nursing a bandaged palm, in a corner with the Walters, and tugged Grandma over by her hand.

“How ya feeling, kid?” he’d asked, a little out of breath.

Mr Walters had stood, placing a comforting arm on Grandpa’s. “She’ll be fine, George. I told you there was no need to worry.”

“They glued my skin back together.” Maya waved her bandaged hand for them to see. “And they gave me some painkillers.”

Grandma dropped to a crouch, brushing the hair from her face that had sprung wildly from her ponytail. “I told you to be careful, Maya.”

“I was! And it was a good goal, too.”

Grandma shook her head and straightened up.

A grin broke across Grandpa’s face. “Sounds like a great shot, kid.”

Grandma nudged him. “You two are as bad as each other.” They’d shared a laugh around the group, and then the adults disappeared to get hot coffees from the vending machine.

Carly shuffled closer to her. “I’m so glad they fixed you,” she’d whispered, even though the adults were out of earshot. “I was scared they were gonna have to chop your hand off.”