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Ari couldn’t ask for a better friend.
Mason doesn’t talk much, just frowns at the TV in the corner, though I’m not convinced he’s ever watching what’s on. He’s losing his mind, and he’s bound to snap soon.
We all are.
“Anything?”
Cameron looks up from her pile of beads, offering me a small grin. “No, Noah, nothing happened in the point two seconds it took you to take a piss.”
A low chuckle leaves me, but it falls flat as I make my way to Ari’s bedside.
Cameron’s phone beeps and then she’s pushing to her feet. “The boys said they finally put out fresh coffee downstairs. I’m going to go make Mason buy me one. You want?”
“I’m good. Thanks.” Gently pushing Ari’s hair behind her ear, I lean in, placing a soft kiss to her forehead before lowering into my seat.
I don’t have to look up to know Cameron hesitates in the doorway.
“Noah…” she whispers, concern in her tone.
I only shake my head, and in the next breath, she slips out.
And then it’s just us, a rarity I selfishly want more of.
I slide my hand beneath her lifeless one, the movement a triggering one for me considering, but necessary. I need to touch her. To hold her.
“Juliet, baby, open your eyes. It’s time to wake up,” I whisper. “Open those big, beautiful eyes and look at me… please look at me.” The last word barely makes it out of my mouth, and suddenly, I’m overcome with all the emotions I’ve tried to push down. I clench my teeth to the point of pain, my jaw flexing as I will the moisture building in my eyes not to fall. Not here. Not where she might sense my agony, the way she always does.
Sitting there alone with her, I plead, beg, and pray for something to happen, for anything.
Turning her hand over, I drop my head to the bed, cradling my cheek against her soft palm, and I stay like that, my mind a mess of memories.
I’m not sure how much time has passed when a hand falls on my shoulder, and I look up to find Cameron standing beside me.
“Why don’t you go home for a little bit?” Her smile is soft.
I sit up, clearing my throat as I look around the room, the boys in their usual spots.
Shaking my head and running my hands down my face, I tell her, “I’m good.”
“Noah, you haven’t left the hospital.” Mason sits up, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees. He lifts a single brow. “You shower here, sleep here, eat here… when you eat at all.”
“I eat when I’m hungry.”
He nods, glancing toward Chase when he stands, his eyes following his friend as he comes to me with a cup of coffee.
“It’s not steaming anymore, and it tastes like shit, but it’s warm enough.” Chase holds it out. “Looks like you could use it.”
This is his peace offering, as was the uneaten pizza last night and the breakfast sandwich the day before. I didn’t want any of that and I don’t want this, but it’s got nothing to do with who’s giving it to me. My stomach won’t accept anything. No matter what I try to force down, it comes back up.
I’m in knots from my mind to my fucking feet.
He probably thinks I want to bash his face in and that’s fine. Sometimes that’s exactly what I want to do, to punch him square in the jaw.
Him and every other thing in reach.
He just keeps standing there, so I accept the drink in his hand.
“Thanks.” I take a small sip, trailing him as he moves back to the seat by the window.
“Where’s Lancaster?” I ask Mason, just realizing the tripods missing a leg.
“Should be on his way by now. He had an early training session.”
I nod. “Good, that’s good. He needs to keep his routine. Coach said there’s an offer out for a center they’re hoping to snatch up for next year.”
“I heard about that.” Chase sits up. “Some high school senior from Detroit. He’s supposed to be a beast.”
“He is. I watched his film.”
“Doesn’t matter.” Mason shrugs. “Brady’s stats this year were fucking wild and he’s only getting better. No one can read the line like him.”
“Yeah, he’s quick with adjustments. With you leading, you guys should go far next season.” The moment the words leave my mouth, I wish I could take them back, knowing I left this one wide open, and all we’ve have is time to pass, so they’ll keep the conversation going.
The second I look down, Mason speaks up.
“So you ready for the draft, my man?” Mason asks with a hint of excitement, the first I’ve heard from him in weeks. “That shit must feel surreal, being so fucking close after years of hard work?”
There it is, the exact topic I don’t want to discuss, especially with promising hopefuls I spent the last six months leading.
