23. Hayden
Chapter 23
Hayden
The happiness of meeting Pope’s parents has settled into a deep-seated worry by the time the game is over. I manage to sneak away for quick goodbyes, but have to return to the locker room before Pope is able to join us. As I fumble my way through setting things up for the players—getting a few side-eyes from Maggie—I can’t help but start playing every moment of the past twenty-four hours back in my mind.
The genuine happiness I pulled from him last night and the false persona he put on for his parents today are night and day in comparison. It was like an entire person stepped out of my boyfriend and spent the day with us. The amount of times he smiled alone was concerning. I could chalk that up to just being happy to have his parents here, but that doesn’t account for the rest of it. The high energy. The stilted moments when things got too serious. The drop in his demeanor when he was at practice and they weren’t around to see him.
Depression.
Pope’s mom battled depression all her life.
I promised Pope I wouldn’t pursue his secrets, but after today, it’s going to be nearly impossible to leave the issue alone. The dots have been connected and now I’m more worried than ever about him.
The way he played tonight didn’t help that worry either. Or the way he’s clearly avoiding me. Or the fact that, despite me texting him with a request to stick around so we could go home together, he’s nowhere to be found.
I try not to seem distressed as I help the final players in my room, my mind split between analyzing everything with Pope and doing my job. Thankfully, there are no injuries to tend to, just some easy after-game care.
By the time I’m finished and the room is clean enough for me to leave it for the night, my chest feels tangled and heavy with the realization that Pope really isn’t here. I check my phone three times just in the walk to my car to be sure he didn’t answer my initial message—or the one after assuring him it’s okay that he needed the night to himself before asking him to at least let me know if he got home safely.
I spend my drive home debating if I should text Jules, just to make sure Pope is okay. Is that too overbearing? I don’t want to seem like a controlling boyfriend or anything, but I’m fucking worried. Something is wrong . I know that more than ever after today.
Depression.
She killed herself. That’s what they wouldn’t say. That’s what was being implied. She killed herself.
My heart lurches in my chest when I walk into my place to find that there are two pairs of shoes on my doormat that don’t belong to me.
One is unfamiliar.
The other belongs to Ethan Pope.
I look up just as I hear the floor creak. It’s not Pope I see, though. It’s Jules, looking half-asleep as he heads my way.
“Jules,” I say, because no other words are processing at the moment. There are too many questions. So many questions.
Jules glances over his shoulder in the direction of my room before turning back to me with a barely-there smile. “He’s in rough shape, Doc. I don’t know for sure what’s going on. You know how he is, he’s not talking, but something’s wrong. Think something’s been wrong for a while, you know?”
Each word is another weight plopped onto my chest. By the you know it feels like I can’t breathe.
“Yeah,” I rasp. I clear my throat. “Yeah, I know.”
“I think he’s asleep. He said he wanted to go to bed a while ago and went in your room.” He shrugs, looking apologetic now. “I didn’t feel okay leaving him alone.”
Because he was at the dinner too.
Depression.
His mom killed herself.
“I wasn’t sure if I should tell you, but I—I think I should.” Jules takes a deep breath, bracing himself. “I think he had a panic attack earlier, in the locker room. He wasn’t breathing right and he looks so fucking scared. I’ve seen them before—panic attacks. I’m pretty sure that’s what happened.”
He had a panic attack?
“It’s depression, right?” Jules whispers. “Like his mom?”
My eyes slide closed, grief washing over me. There had been just a tiny bit of hope in me that I was misinterpreting things. That Pope wasn’t sick like his mom was. Jules coming to the same conclusion as me confirms it, though. I can’t think of anything else it could be.
I force myself to look at Jules. We’re going to have to be a team now. The support for stubborn, secretive Ethan Pope.
“I think so, Jules.”
His expression crumples with the same grief I just felt before he hardens it. “Okay. That’s—yeah, okay. We’ll take care of him. We’ll help. He’ll be okay.”
“Yes,” I promise, because there’s no other option. “He’ll be okay.”
“Okay.” He nods. “Okay. I’ll go now. He’s all yours. Just take good care of him, yeah?”
I smile. “Always.”
“And let me know if he needs anything?”
“Okay. Thank you.” I squeeze his shoulder. “You’re a very good friend.”
“He’s a good bro, even when he has his asshole moments.”
He gives me a two-finger salute before sliding into his shoes and heading out the door. I stay long enough to lock up behind him, then shed my coat and shoes and head straight for the bedroom.
The knot in my chest slowly unravels when I enter the bedroom and see for myself that the man I love is safe. There’s still an ache there, though. Sadness and worry sitting heavy inside of it, weighing my heart down.
Depression.
What do I do now?