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I sort of nod, but only because I’m suddenly too exhausted to do anything else, so she continues. “Well, that’s what I’m asking you right now. To just hear me out. To let me explain… Please.”
I just kind of lift one eyebrow. I can’t decide if I do want to hear her out. It all seems so confusing.Everythingseems confusing right now.
She must sense my reticence because she adds, “It isn’t a healthy relationship if we just shut the other person out anytime things get tough.”
I give her another eyebrow lift. “That sounds like a line from a bad sitcom.”
She looks embarrassed. “Sorry… It’s one of my mom’s lines.”
“Well, maybe keep the forty-year-old dialogue to texts only.”
Caroline laughs, and it clears the haze for a few seconds, her smile taking up all my focus. Crystal fucking clear and beautiful. Just the reminder I need to pull myself together and listen to whatever she has to say. That she’s too important to dismiss this quickly. So, I put all my energy into concentrating on her words and not letting myself zone out. Even though it feels like a huge effort, because my girl’s got a lot to say, and my brain is functioning at a pretty low frequency right now.
I take it all in. I listen. And we talk.
“I had planned on leaving Sandy Haven, for my last term,” she tells me. “I submitted the application and everything a while back and told Mrs. Tromely about it.” She gives me an almost shy, closed-lip smile, then continues. “But I emailed Braden Hall this morning, which was the confirmation deadline, and I let them know I changed my mind.” She takes a step closer. “I’m not going away, Seb.”
I feel my full body go almost slack at the sense of relief from her words. But also shock. And confusion, too. Which I should be used to by now. And yet the thick haze clouding my brain makes it hard to latch onto any steady line of thought.
“Wait… I was in Tromely’s office. I’m pretty sure it was today,” I say slowly. “She wanted to help me find a new tutor. She said you were leaving… That was today, Caro.”
She looks a little sheepish. “It was today. But Mrs. Tromely still didn’t know. About me changing my mind,” she kind of shrugs. “She does now, though.”
I don’t respond. My brain is playing catch-up, trying to make sense of everything. And as I slot the blurry pieces into place, another part of the picture comes into sudden focus.
“Wait.” I sit up again, wince at the sharp stab of the needle, and drop back down. “You’re not giving up a kick-ass marine biology program because of me.”
And look at me pulling a sudden one-eighty within the span of twenty minutes. But no way do I want a girl like Caroline walking away from something she’s so passionate about on my account.
Only she says it wasn’t really about the marine biology thing. That was just what attracted her in the first place. It was about escaping her shitty high school experience. And now, she’s starting to discover a bunch of things here that make her happy—new friendships, her job, and yeah, me…Us.She says she doesn’t want to walk away from any of that.
Also, she did some research and found a summer internship she can apply for at that aquarium I took her to on our first date, so it’s not like she’ll be giving up the marine biology thing altogether.
It takes me a few minutes to process everything she’s saying, and when I do, I can’t wipe the shit-eating grin off my face. Or maybe that’s just a side-effect of the meds they have me on, because I prove my excitement to her at hearing she’s going to be staying in Sandy Haven by falling asleep on her mid-sentence.
Always so smooth, Murdoch.
I am still kind of hurt that she didn’t tell me sooner about the boarding school thing she’d been pursuing. Even if she did end up changing her mind. But I think this might be an accurate case of the pot calling the kettle black. I mean, after everything I kept fromherall this time. So, I guess maybe we’re even now. We both caused a lot of stress by not being upfront.
Live and learn amiright?
They keep me in hospital for almost two weeks.
The good news is I’m apparently a lucky bastard, because with the Post-Concussion Syndrome they figure I’ve had for the past five months, the hard hit I took straight to the head from Justin Tanner—especially so soon after the knocks from last weekend’s game—could have caused a hell of a lot more serious damage to my brain than what they’ve determined I’m dealing with now.
As it is, I’m basically just a slower, more forgetful, clumsier version of the guy I’ve been for the past five months. I found out all those issues I was dealing with before were symptoms of a condition that, go figure, affects less than twenty percent of people who get concussions. Basically, you get “stuck”—for months or sometimes years—after a concussion. So, the memory glitches and crazy short attention span, and the way I was getting so tired all the time and stuff, that was all the PCS.
So, the bad news is I’m not allowed to play any sports for a while. No division one college ball for me. Possibly, no serious ball at all. So yeah, that’s the bad news. The worst-case scenario I was worried about.
The good news? Graham found this institute in Boston where they have a crazy high success rate at getting people with PCS back on track and functioning pretty normally after a few months, as long as I don’t get any more concussions.
Also, I feel like a huge weight has been lifted off my shoulders. Way more weight than I even realized I was carrying. I’m refusing to accept I won’t play at all again. Like, in a few months or whatever, I’m determined to play again. But I’m not as gutted as I thought I’d be about not playing Division One. It’ll be hard, for sure, giving up something I thought was my goal. But I’ve changed. My goals have changed. I just want to be happy again. And if playing ball at a higher level means going through what I’ve been through these past few months again, it isn’t worth it, anyway.
I thought Graham would be devastated. And he is—but not for the reasons I thought. He feels guilty, more than anything. Even though Dale and I are trying to get him to see how crazy it is for him to single-handedly take on the blame for all of this. But when my neurologist outlined the risks I’d be facing if I get any more concussions, Graham became kind of obsessed with researching everything he could about it. And now he’s the one who’s going to take the most convincing not to keep me off the field for good. He’s worried about the possibility of permanent nerve damage and stuff, now that I’ve had PCS. So we’ll have to battle it out later. Give it a few months, and hopefully, once I’m doing better, he’ll be willing to relax a little and be okay with me playing Division three or something. At this point, I’m not too picky. As long as I can get back out on the field in some capacity.
In the meantime, I’m only doing school part time for the next couple months while I do this recovery program with the PCS recovery institute. The main focus being my memory, which, like I said, is even glitchier since the fight with Tanner. Where I laid into him for making a derogatory-as-hell comment about Caroline.
I’d already reached my limit with that guy running his mouth and being a sleazy douche, and that was the last straw. Especially that he picked the same morning to mouth off that I heard the news about Caro and the boarding school thing. Apparently, on top of being a douche, the guy has shit timing, too. Also, a mean left hook.
