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“Of course not. I told him that his father is on his way here and that, unfortunately, you’re not allowed to see him, and that he should rest and not worry, and that everything is fine . . . ” Ricky gasps. “And stuff like that.”

“Okay. So, is it okay if I go back to the team now?”

“They sent me home, too. I’ll be back tomorrow at noon, and they’ll tell me what’s next. I’ll let you know afterward.”

Tomorrow is the next game. If I want to be there, I’ll be busy all day and won’t be able to take care of Parker.

It’s tearing me apart inside.

Missing the first game of the second round of the playoffs—it’s unthinkable. But—Parker.

“Thanks, Ricky, for everything. Without you, I don’t know what I would’ve done.”

Parker’s best friend sighs. “I tried to make the best of this crappy situation. How are you, by the way? I haven’t even asked yet.”

I let my gaze wander out the window toward Central Park. The trees now have lush green leaves, and the lawns are coming out of hibernation. How am I doing? Actually, I try not to think about it. “Fine. I’m fine.”

“Yeah. Imagining my boyfriend . . . ” Ricky doesn’t finish his sentence.

Yeah, it hasn’t quite sunk in for me yet.

“Anyway, I have to head to the restaurant now for my second job. I’m glad they called today. Simon told me right away that the day I spent in the hospital will, of course, be deducted from my pay.”

“Let me know if there’s anything I can do for you.”

“Nope. Everything’s fine. If I hear anything, I’ll let you know. But I’m assuming things will be quiet for now.”

“Okay. See you tomorrow.”

“See you tomorrow, Evan.”

I lower the phone. The conversation I’m about to have next is going to be a tough one.

After all this time, I’d imagined things would go differently, but they’ve taken their own course, no matter what I say. I dial my mom’s number, hoping she’ll answer and at the same time, hoping she won’t. I don’t want to talk to her on the phone, but she needs to know in case a media bomb goes off after my conversation with the team.

After two rings, she picks up. “Evan, what’s going on? Is everything okay?”

Guilt immediately grabs me by the collar. Shit. “Sorry, Mom. I should check in more often. No, everything’s fine.” Sort of.

“You gave me a scare.”

“Because I called? I’m sorry. How are you? Joni told me you’re planning a trip to New York?”

“Oh, yes. I don’t want to get ahead of myself, but we’d absolutely love to see the Cup Final in four weeks.”

“Me too, Mom. Believe me. Just say the word and I’ll book your flights. I’ve already got the tickets, anyway.”

She laughs. “Your dad would be so proud of you.”

Unfortunately, I seriously doubt that right now. “Hmm. Mom, I’m actually not calling out of the blue.”

“I figured as much. Does this have anything to do with a special girlfriend of yours?” Her happy giggles hurt like knife stabs to my heart.

“Mom.” I swallow hard. There’s no point in putting off the inevitable. “In a way, yes. You know that Valentina and I aren’t together. Joni told you that, right?”

“Yes, I know, but a mother’s allowed to dream, isn’t she? She’s such a sweet girl.”

“Hmm.” She might come across that way in the media. Above all, Valentina is a smart businesswoman, but okay. “Anyway, we’ll never be together. We’re just friends. She’s dating someone else, and I . . . ” Why is this so hard? “Me too.”