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“You didn’t tell anyone about us over the summer,” he says.
“I was pretty sure we’d figure it out.”
“Pretty sure, huh?”
“You…weren’t?” I ask.
“I… No, I wasn’t.”
I might regret asking, now that it feels like we’re finally past it all, but I do anyway. “Why not?”
He drops my gaze, looks out at the water instead. “Because part of me has been waiting for you to change your mind about us ever since I handed you that notebook and you showed up at my game.” His gaze returns to my face. “You like safe bets, Cas. I’m not one.”
“You’ve never been abetfor me, Holden. Our odds were never great. I thought you regretted kissing me for years, so I never thought there was even a chance we’d be here. You’ve always been the one part of my life that I have no control over.”
“Will you still love me if I follow you wherever you go to vet school and do who knows what?”
“Yes.”
He smiles.
“When are you supposed to get the test results?” I ask softly.
The only reason he’d follow me was if he didn’t have his own dreams to chase anymore.
“Any day now.”
“If you donate…if you can’t play this season, is there still a chance you’d get drafted?”
Holden looks out at the water. “I don’t know. It’s a unique situation and I haven’t said anything to Coach Jackson yet.” He glances at me, his expression wry. “Pro basketball likes safe bets too.”
“And fans like an underdog.”
He snorts. “Right. That’s worth the risk of infection or liver failure.”
I still. “What’s the risk of infection or liver failure?”
I’ve been preoccupied by the mental toll donating might take on him. The impact of losing basketball. It’s just now occurring to me—and I feel stupid that it didn’t before—that he’s risking a lot more than his pro career. He’s risking his health. Hislife.
Whatever expression I’m wearing strains the corners of Holden’s eyes. “I was just kidding, Cassia. Forget it.”
“What are the chances of that happening, Holden?”
“It was a stupid joke.”
I hold his gaze, not wavering.
He exhales. “It’s a major surgery. Yeah, there are risks, and the doctor ran through them with me. But I don’t even know if I’m doing it. And if I did, everything would be fine. It’s probably more likely I get hit by a car tomorrow.”
“That’s not fucking funny,” I snap.
His humor fades. “What do you want me to do, Cassia? Let her die?”
Yes,I want to say. If it’s a choice between him and her, that’s an easy one. But that’s too terrible to say. And it’s not my impossible choice to make—it’s his.
“Like you said, you might not even do the surgery. We’ll worry about it then.”
And I will. Worry about it.
