Chapter 4
CHAPTER FOUR
T he gym at the YMCA was buzzing with the sounds of kids shouting, sneakers squeaking, and basketballs thudding against the hardwood. Travis Jenkins crouched low, holding the ball just out of reach of a boy who was maybe eight or nine, his tongue poking out in concentration.
“Think you can take it from me, Caleb?” Travis teased, grinning as the boy lunged forward, swiping at the ball.
“I know I can!” Caleb declared, his small hands scrambling for the ball as Travis dribbled it just out of reach.
“Show me what you got,” Travis said, backing up and letting Caleb make his move. The kid managed to tap the ball away, sending it rolling across the court, and Travis raised his hands in mock surrender. “Alright, alright, you win!”
Caleb’s grin stretched ear to ear as he retrieved the ball, and Travis ruffled his hair before jogging back to join the rest of the group.
This was his favorite part of the week—helping out with the youth program at the Y. It was a chance to give back, to remember what it was like to be a kid falling in love with sports. These kids didn’t care about stats or contracts or playoff standings. They just wanted to play, to laugh, to feel like they belonged.
“Alright, everyone, circle up!” Travis called, clapping his hands to get their attention.
The kids gathered around, their energy still buzzing but their eyes locked on him. He knelt to their level, his tone playful but firm. “Who can tell me the most important rule of basketball?”
Caleb’s hand shot up, and Travis pointed at him.
“Have fun!” Caleb said confidently.
“Exactly,” Travis said with a smile. “Because if you’re not having fun, what’s the point, right?”
The kids nodded, a few of them giggling, and Travis sent them off into drills, their laughter filling the gym once again.
He stayed for another hour, helping with passing drills and offering tips on free throws before wrapping up for the day. As the kids filed out, waving goodbye, Travis felt that familiar sense of fulfillment that always came with volunteering. It wasn’t much, but it mattered.
His phone buzzed in his pocket as he packed up, and he pulled it out to see Tatum’s name on the screen.
“Hey, Tate,” he said, slinging his gym bag over his shoulder.
“Hey.” Her voice was soft, hesitant, and immediately, his stomach tightened.
“What’s wrong? Everything ok?”
“It’s Mom,” her voice quivered. “She had a setback. They had to take her to the hospital last night.”
He froze, the words hitting him like a punch to the gut. “Is she okay? What happened?”
“She’s stable now,” Tatum said quickly, as if she’d anticipated his panic. “But her breathing got bad, and the doctor wanted to monitor her for a couple days.”
Travis ran a hand through his hair, trying to steady himself. He hated this—feeling helpless, like no matter what he did, it wouldn’t be enough. “Which hospital?”
“St. Anne’s,” Tatum said. “I’m heading over there now.”
“I’ll meet you there,” he said, already moving toward the exit.
“Travis…” She hesitated, and he could hear the strain in her voice.
“What?” He stopped in the middle of the parking lot.
“She’s going to be fine this time, but… you know what the doctors said. This isn’t going away. We just have to be ready.”
He clenched his jaw, the words settling heavy in his chest. “I know.”
They hung up, and as he climbed into his car, his phone buzzed again. This time, it was a text from Sarah.
Tatum told me about your mom. Do you think it would be okay if I came to visit her?
He stared at the screen for a moment, a lump forming in his throat. Sarah had always been close to his family—she and Tatum had been inseparable growing up—but lately, things had felt strained.
Yeah, I think she’d like that. I’m heading there now.
I’ll meet you there.
He drove to the hospital in silence, his mind racing. By the time he arrived, Tatum was already in their mom’s room, sitting by the bed and holding her hand.
Their mom, Susan Jenkins, looked tired but managed a smile when Travis walked in.
“There’s my boy,” she said, her voice soft but warm.
He leaned down to hug her, careful not to disturb the wires and tubes. “How are you feeling, Mom?”
“Like I’ve been hit by a truck,” she said with a small laugh. “But I’ll live to fight another day.”
Tatum rolled her eyes. “She’s been cracking jokes all morning.”
“That’s how you know she’s okay,” Travis said, his smile not quite reaching his eyes.
A knock at the door made them all look up, and Sarah stepped in, holding a small bouquet of flowers.
“Hi, Mrs. Jenkins,” she said, her voice gentle.
“Sarah!” Susan’s face lit up, and she reached out a hand. “Come here, sweetheart.”
Sarah set the flowers on the bedside table and leaned in to hug her. “How are you doing?”
“Oh, you know,” Susan said with a wave of her hand. “Just keeping the nurses on their toes.”
They all laughed, and for a moment, the heaviness in the room lifted.
The visit passed in a blur of stories and laughter, Susan sharing memories from their childhood that had them all grinning. But beneath the smiles, there was an unspoken understanding: this wasn’t just another hospital stay. The clock was ticking, and they all knew it.
When Susan drifted off to sleep, they slipped out of the room to let her rest. The three of them found a quiet corner in the hospital cafeteria, the sterile smell of disinfectant mingling with the scent of burnt coffee.
Tatum stirred her tea absently, her expression distant. “Do you think we’ll still be able to do the Italy trip?”
Travis leaned back in his chair, rubbing a hand over his face. “I don’t know. It feels like bad timing, but Mom keeps saying we should go.”
“She’s been talking about the Dolomites since we were kids,” Sarah said, her voice soft. “I think she wants us to go, even if she can’t.”
Tatum nodded, but her eyes filled with tears. “It’s just hard, you know? Knowing she might not…” She trailed off, her voice breaking.
Travis reached across the table, squeezing her hand. “We’ll figure it out. Together.”
They sat in silence for a moment, the weight of everything settling over them.
“Remember her cookies?” Sarah said suddenly, a small smile tugging at her lips.
Tatum sniffed, wiping her eyes. “The ones she used to make for bake sales?”
“And for every holiday,” Sarah added. “She always said the secret was in the butter.”
Travis laughed. “It wasn’t the butter. It was the way she made us do all the stirring.”
“Oh yeah? You’re gonna take credit for her cookies because of your stirring? “
“Hey no.” Travis was about to lay into her a little bit. But Tatum jumped in, “And the hot cocoa,” She put a hand on his arm. “Remember how she’d put a pinch of cinnamon in it?”
“And a little salt,” Sarah said, nodding.
They shared stories like that for hours, the memories wrapping around them like a warm blanket. By the time they left the hospital, the heaviness in their chests hadn’t disappeared, but it felt a little more bearable.
As they walked to their cars, Travis glanced at Sarah, his heart squeezing at the sight of her. She caught him looking and smiled, and for a moment, it was like they were kids again, skating on the lake and laughing about nothing.
“Thanks for coming,” he said, his voice low.
“Of course,” she said, her eyes soft. “You know I’m always here for your family.”
And for the first time in a long time, he believed her.