CHAPTER SIXTY-EIGHT
Hardy
S he looks like the weight of the world is on her shoulders.
She sits on the bleachers as the kids pick up all the gear, but I don’t think she really sees them.
“ Hardy .” My name rings out as the kids see me on the periphery. I knew I wouldn’t be able to stay hidden for long. I greet the kids who rush over with fist bumps and head ruffles. And I know when I look up, she’ll be there looking at me.
And she is.
Her smile is sad, but it’s there. I hate that there is something in her eyes I can’t read.
“Two more games,” Rodrigo says.
“Or one more if the Flyers lose and we win,” I say.
“Yeah, but then you won’t be on the field to celebrate the victory,” he says. “There’s no champagne to pop in the locker room.”
A kid after my own heart. The boys want a celebration.
“True, but a win is a win, and sometimes you have to take what you can with it,” I say.
“Still sucks,” he mutters.
“Still sucks.” I laugh.
When I look back up, Whitney isn’t there. I catch sight of her moving toward her office. “Give me a sec, will you, guys? I need to talk to the boss.”
Ooohs and aaahs ring out. They’re smart enough to see social media and know there’s something between Whit and me. We’ve never shown it here, but they still know.
I knock on the door to the office before I step in and close the door. She looks tired. That’s my first thought when she meets my eyes.
This decision is weighing heavily on her.
I haven’t asked her about it. I don’t want to pressure her. Suri has hinted that she’s accepting it, and Martin has already started pulling more weight if I’m to understand his texts to me.
I’m getting what I want—her with me. I found a perfect solution so that we can both live out our dreams, so why does she look so miserable?
“You guys just get back?” she asks.
I nod. “Yeah. I missed you.” It’s only been three days. “I wanted to see you.”
Her smile is halfhearted and doesn’t make it to her eyes.
“What is it, Whit?”
“It’s Brandon.”
“Brandon?” I ask. Blond-haired kid with a good foot. The class clown of the group. A bit of an attitude.
“What about him?”
“He overdosed last night.”
“Jesus Christ,” I mutter as I move to her and pull her against me.
Her chest heaves, and the sobs come. One after another. I hold her as my mind races and my heart breaks.
“I’ve been so busy fucking around with this decision. I mean, how did I not see it? How did I not catch it?”
“Whit? C’mon, now. This isn’t on you.”
“How is it not? I know his parents don’t care. I know I’m the one he looks to for approval. Did I miss something?” she repeats through her sobs. “Was he standing at my doorway last night because he was going to ask for help but then walked away while I was on the phone with Simon asking some questions? I mean ...”
She squeezes her eyes shut, and her shoulders hitch over and over.
“I’m their lifeline, Hardy. It’s my job to notice them, and I missed it.”
I pull her onto my lap and just hold her. I let her sob. I let her heart break as I try to hold all the pieces for whenever she’s ready to piece it back together. And I do the only thing I can, I listen.
The irony is what my internal voice is screaming, something I’d never believe I’d actually say.