AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“I have to get him back,” I realized then—and now.
Now. Here. At my desk staring at that Diet Coke I still haven’t touched. It fizzes threateningly.
The fumes of its sweet aroma tickle my nostrils and tempt me.
Something else tempts me more.
“I lost you once,” I tell the soda can, as if it just grew Stefan’s face complete with his signature lopsided smirk. “I won’t lose you again. Even if you royally piss me off.”
Determined, I pick up my phone to call him.
“You won’t lose who?”
I jump and look up. Dana is at the door looking radiant and beautiful as ever. Her mile-long lashes bat as she stares at me, her eyebrows pulled up expectantly.
I smile at her. “Nothing. I was just …” I shrug and laugh it off. “I was just talking to myself.”
She leans against my door and smiles, hugging a folder to her chest. “I wanted to thank you again for indulging me and my little friend Amber Friday night. We had fun. I should have mentioned this, but she’s a huge baseball fan and I was in the mood to brag. It was purely selfish, and now that I’ve had my way, I owe you big.”
I chuckle at that. “It was no big deal, really. Stefan had a good time, too.”
“I’m surprised you’re here today at all,” she says, “what with his little brother and everything.”
I freeze and look up at her. “What do you mean?”
“Rudy Baker. Isn’t that his little brother? I saw a memo on the computer about it. He collapsed during a workout Sunday night. He’s in the hospital.”
All of the air is sucked right out of my lungs. I swipe my car keys off the desk without a word and head out the door, whipping right past Dana’s shocked expression and her cloying perfume.
28
STEFAN
I think I’ve just about memorized the three halls that branch off from the hospital waiting room. I’ve paced them a hundred and sixty times since last night.
My mom needed the most consoling. Though my dad was as grumpy and quiet as usual, I did note a strange mistiness about his eyes that betrayed his normally stoic demeanor. He only looked at me twice since I got here Sunday night and said about eight words. I gave him just as much respect as he gave me by not getting in his face with what I thought of him.
But the truth is, I’m more mad at myself. Over and over as I pace these halls, I wonder if Rudy wouldn’t be lying in a hospital bed right now if I hadn’t left home in an angry fit.
Of course, if I hadn’t left, I wouldn’t have spent all of that time with Ryan—which, as it turns out, may have been a waste.
“I think I’m in love with you.”
The hall I’m pacing empties into a lounge that the balconies of three separate floors overlook. I wade through a pair of leather couches, a couple fake potted plants, and a calf-high table to stand by the floor-to-ceiling window that lines the room. I tiredly press my forehead to it, gazing down at the courtyard six stories below that hugs the parking lot.
What the hell has happened to me? I feel like I’ve been pulled apart into three people, and each of them is at war in my mind: one who should have been there for Rudy, one who should have stuck it out with Ryan, and another who should have stayed in Frisco working my ass off to get back to my old self on the field.
None of those versions of me seem to coexist in any world I can imagine.
Growing up is terrifying. When you’re young, you have this feeling inside of you that you’ll eventually get the chance to do and try everything in life, because life looks so infinitely long from the perspective of a kid. Then suddenly, you realize that every choice you make unchooses all the other ones. This isn’t a video game. There’s no reset button and no infinite lives. Every single decision I make is permanent, and the more I make, the slimmer my path becomes in this shrinking, dark forest we call adulthood.
I also feel like I’ve passed all the forks in the road. I don’t even think I’m on the path anymore. I’m just lurking in a thicket of trees, and every direction I turn looks as dark and grim as the last.
The fear was bearable just days ago when I thought I’d have Ryan at my side in this.
I press my knuckles to the cold glass, baring my teeth in frustration.
“Don’t jump.”
I freeze at the sound of his voice. Then I catch myself smiling. Then that smile dies, and I lift my head off the glass to face him. He must have come straight here from work, dressed up in a blue shirt with a black tie and matching slacks. His dark hair is swept to one side—his professional look—which seems to sharpen the look of pain in his eyes.
