Chapter 35 Matt
THIRTY-FIVE
MATT
Greyson leans against the doorframe of my office, arms crossed, his eyes sharp in that way that means he’s trying to be casual and failing.
“Dad called,” he says. “He’s having a family dinner tonight.”
I don’t look up from the film I’m rewinding. “Pass.”
“He says since we’ve got a Saturday game and then a Thursday game next week, he won’t see anyone for a while,” Greyson adds. “Wants to catch up. See Noelle. Henley. Witley.” He sighs into a laugh. “You know how he is. Big softie when it comes to the girls.”
“Sorry, designing plays to make you look good on the field,” I say.
“Your dad’s a coach, so he’ll understand why I’m not there.
” Can’t he see I’m in no mood or condition to be around his family?
Being judged about how sick I am. That I’m worthless to Noelle.
I know they probably don’t feel that way, but it’s how I feel.
Greyson smirks. “I doubt Noelle will allow that.”
I glance up. “Allow?”
“Well,” he says, shrugging, “I’m pretty sure she’s persuasive. I mean…she did something to make you fall in love.”
I don’t answer that. She did. She cried on my shoulder, kissed me with those tender lips, made me laugh when there hasn’t been much to laugh about, and then we shared a hotel room and she asked me to teach her.
But what I realize now is that she was teaching me.
How to heal a woman from the scars left by a prick of a man. How loving a woman healed me.
Two hours later, we’re standing in her dad’s kitchen, the house loud with familiar chaos. Henley is sitting up, playing with Mr. O’Ryan and a dancing cactus. Witley sleeps in Paulina’s arms. Noelle looks beautiful and anxious, all at once. Her dad pats her back as they talk.
Greyson takes Witley from Paulina and holds her as everyone fills up their plates.
Their family reminds me of my own, except larger.
Tonight’s potluck has all the family favorites—squash casserole, barbecue brisket, mac and cheese, roasted parmesan Brussels sprouts, and five desserts.
The O’Ryans love sweets. Until my twenties, I did too, but it was more important for me to be in top condition to play football and stay alive.
Okay, that’s a little dramatic, but I didn’t want to pass out on the field from my sugar going too high or too low.
Everyone takes their seat at the long wooden table with plates piled high. Noelle glances at my plate, shaking her head, and I realize it’s half of what everyone else has. Mr. O’Ryan asks about each baby and if they’ve done anything new for the week.
Sutton says, “Witley is learning to soothe herself. Last night she slept for five hours straight before she needed to eat again.”
“When she starts sleeping through the night, it’s going to change your life,” Birdie says, patting her hand against her chest. “I mean it. Henley is teething, so if she’s chewing on your hand, beware—those gums can clamp down hard.”
Noelle’s fidgeting, and I hope nothing is wrong with the baby. Before I can whisper in her ear, Parker says, “Guess who I have class with?”
Our mouths are all full, so there’s a lot of grunting. Finally, Witt asks, “Who?”
“Annika, the waitress from the pizza place. She sits in the front row like we’re in high school.”
“Maybe she wants to learn and not be distracted by a bunch of asshole football players,” Noelle responds.
Well, that startles everyone, including me. Does she still have feelings for Brooks? Her dad surveys the table, and Parker says, “This girl hates everyone.”
“She probably hates the way you all act like you’re God’s gift,” Noelle snips and sighs.
Something feels off. Noelle is off. She and Parker are tight. Parker is the gentle one, but he is a little cockier now that he’s a college wide receiver for Texas.
Then she drops her fork and presses her hands against the table, bracing herself for what’s to come, I guess. It’s how she steadies herself. But this time she shouts, “I need you all to get tested.”
Tested for what?
“For Matt,” she continues. “He needs a kidney.”
The room goes still.
It’s like the air gets sucked out of the house. I feel it in my chest first—the pressure, the panic, the betrayal. The fear in her family’s eyes and in my best friend’s.
“What are you doing?” I demand, turning toward her. We discussed in private what Dr. Knupp said. I’ve only told her and my sister. This is my news, and I get to decide when to share it.
Her eyes are filled with tears. “I just asked—”
I don’t let her finish, storming out the front door, the night air slamming into me like a wall.
Footsteps follow.
“Matt—wait.” It’s J.D., not Greyson.
“I’m sorry,” he says quietly. “I don’t know what you’re going through, and having it on your mind daily has to be rough, but Noelle just wants you to be healthy.”
I rake a hand through my hair. “I’m not taking anything from any of you.”
“Why?”
“Because that’s not how this works,” I snap. “I won’t owe my life to your family.”
He studies me, his eyes soft. “You’re living with our sister. I thought you loved her. If you love her, you’ll let each one of us decide to get tested.”
“I knew I shouldn’t have fallen in love. I should be worrying about her, not myself. I tried. God knows I didn’t want to see the distrust in your or Greyson’s eyes, but the pull was too strong.”
“Just as Greyson and I had to learn to live without our mom who had raised us for sixteen and eighteen years, Noelle will learn how to live with you if that time comes. Dad didn’t have the luxury of helping Mom.
It was too fast. But Noelle has the inclination to fix things, and you must let her try.
” J.D. slaps my back, not like at a ball game after a win, but like a brother.
It almost breaks me. I push my hand through my hair, thinking about how to handle this, and I decide to just be honest and open.
When I walk back in, they’re eating so they don’t have to talk.
Usually, it’s people shouting over each other with lots of laughter, clinking utensils, and second helpings.
I did this. I made the O’Ryan family quiet for once.
Grabbing Noelle’s hand, I say, “Thank you for caring enough to ask your family, because I know they mean the absolute world to you, and for you to ask them was hard, but I’m not taking any of your kidneys.” I let out a shaky breath. “End of discussion, okay?”
No one argues. No one smiles.
The house feels too small now, heavy with things no one knows how to say. Paulina breaks the silence, asking, “Is your baby the size of a tennis ball yet?”
“Usually, the doctors go by fruit,” Sutton says with a gentle laugh.
Noelle says, “An avocado, so yeah, about the size of a tennis ball.” She scoots her chair back, scraping against the floor. “I’m not feeling well. Matt, can we go home?”
“Sure.”
Her family stands to say goodbye, but she waves them off. Greyson shoots a dagger at me for upsetting his sister, a look that says make it right.
Later, Noelle and I stand in my living room, the tension stretched tight between us.
“You don’t get to decide this alone,” she says, tears in her eyes.
“And you don’t get to volunteer organs from your family body,” I fire back. “Have you thought about the situation that puts them in? Having to say no?”
“I was asking people that love you to get tested so that the person I love will be around to see this baby born.” Her voice catches between words. “And have a life with me.”
I reach out for her, and she flinches.
“Maybe I’m not what you need.” Every fiber of my being believes this. “You’re young and pregnant. You don’t need the stress.”
If loving her means watching her grieve me while I’m still breathing… I don’t know if I’m strong enough to survive it.