Chapter 9
LIVELY
His glares lost their bite a long time ago, though. So, I said, "I know," my tone light and easy. "But I’m not interested."
His eyes immediately darkened with barely restrained anger. It was funny how, no matter how many times we had this very same conversation, he always managed to look way angrier than the last time. Now, he looked like he'd just sucked on rotten ass lemons or something.
"Yet you waste your time on a sport that won’t last," he said, voice cool. "You think they’ll still want you when your knees give out? When you're past your prime?"
Damn this old man. Didn't he get tired of this same spiel every damn time? God, he did this every couple of months—tricked me into attending ‘family dinner’ just so he could remind me of all the “opportunities” I was squandering by chasing hockey instead of following in their footsteps, and then promptly dismissing any argument I had like it was a child’s tantrum.
Like my entire goddamn life was a phase I’d eventually outgrow.
And every time they did this, it just reinforced my theory that I was only born for their own purpose, and not because they'd really wanted a kid to love at all.
They'd never cared about me as a person.
Not really . To them, I was probably like just another asset to maintain, and that was why all they'd ever done for me growing up was just getting me stuff.
Whatever I'd asked for, I'd gotten it. Yeah, I'd been an insufferable jerk as a teen, but I'd soon realized that the extent of our bond was merely transactional, like they'd rather give the wailing imp some shiny rocks to entertain itself with rather than waste precious time actually taking care of it.
Hell, I’d even caved to their pressure and gotten a major in Athletic Training, but that only seemed to disgust my father even more. Apparently, his only heir couldn’t possibly dream of being something as lowly as a ‘sports doctor’. Nothing I ever fucking did was good enough for either of them.
Something inside me curled tight, but I kept my expression smooth. Blank. Unreachable. "I’ll take my chances."
My mother sighed, exchanging a look with him. I could already hear the next speech coming. The one about how I was throwing away my future, how I was squandering opportunities, how hockey was a child’s game and real men built legacies.
But I didn’t want to hear it. Not tonight.
So, I pushed back my chair, grabbed my coat, and stood. "I gotta go."
My mother blinked. "We’re not finished." Her eyes were hard, but my patience had already run out. I didn't think I could spend another second here without losing it.
And that was the last thing I wanted to do in front of my parents. I couldn't give them any more ammunition to regard me as a childish brat.
"I am," I said easily. "Got practice."
My father scoffed under his breath, but I didn’t stick around to hear whatever parting shot he had planned.
"You've barely touched your food," my mother pressed. And whenever she got like this, it gave me false hope that she actually cared about me more than just as a status symbol or puppet they needed to reflect their social standing.
But I always made sure to quash that hope before it could even form. I'd grown up with these two—I knew, for a fact, where their priorities lay, and it was not with me as a human being.
But I gave her a tight-lipped smile, nonetheless. "I’ll just get Burger King or something on my way."
Her expression sharpened with disapproval, considering how much she’d micromanaged my meals as a child. It has been years since I’d let her do that to me anymore. I strode for the door, not sparing a glance at my father as I did.
I was done here.
By the time I stepped out of the room, even the air that stunk of bleach and that clinical smell that would make anyone nauseous felt like a damn relief.
I exhaled, running a hand through my hair, before heading for the elevator back down.
The elevator ride down was quiet, save for the soft hum of the hospital’s air conditioning. My fingers drummed absently against the rail as I leaned back against the wall, watching the numbers count down. My father’s words echoed in my head, but I shoved them aside with practiced ease.
I was done with that part of the night. The rink was calling. And I needed to hit something.
But, as the doors slid open onto the lobby, my feet hesitated for just a moment before turning left instead of heading straight for the parking garage. I wasn’t ready to leave just yet.
Because there was one good thing about this hospital.
And they were just down the hall.
I tugged my cap lower over my head and made my way toward the pediatric wing.
The halls here always had a different energy—brighter, despite the fluorescent lights being the same as everywhere else.
Maybe it was the murals on the walls, or the sound of quiet laughter and cartoon jingles filtering through the doors, but it made the place feel. .. lighter. Less suffocating.
A few nurses waved as I passed, and I grinned back at them, throwing out easy greetings.
“Evening, Hilda. How’s my favorite boss lady?” I was laying on the charm thick, but she was so cute
Hilda, a usually grumpy nurse in her forties with a sharp wit, rolled her eyes but smiled.
“Late, as usual. You said you’d be here last week.” She said, giving me a pointed look.
I placed a dramatic hand over my heart. “I’d never break a promise to my favorite people. Blame Coach. He’s been working us like dogs.”
She snorted. “Uh-huh. You better have brought something good this time.”
I patted the strap of my duffel bag. “You know I always come prepared.”
I passed by a few more familiar faces, trading jokes and waves, before stopping at the door I was looking for.
Room 312.
I knocked twice, then pushed it open with an easy grin already forming on my lips. “MAL, YOU’D BETTER NOT HAVE FORGOTTEN YOUR FAVORITE GUY—”
But the words died in my throat the second I stepped inside.
Because sitting at Mallory’s bedside, legs crossed, arms folded, was Hailey Baleman.
What the—?
For a full three seconds, my brain completely short-circuited.
She wasn’t in her usual team hoodie or rink gear tonight.
No, she was wearing a simple, fitted black sweater, sleeves pushed up, exposing her forearms. Her dark hair was tied back in a low ponytail, a few loose strands framing her face.
She looked... softer than usual, but no less cold. No less Hailey .
Heat crept up the back of my neck, and I was suddenly hyper-aware of the fact that I had just barged in like a fucking dumbass.
“What the hell are you doing here?” she demanded, her expression colder than a January rink.
Damn. No preamble, huh?
Mallory, completely oblivious to the tension now thick enough to slice with a skate, let out a delighted squeal. “Lively!”
And just like that, I had a lifeline.
I tore my eyes off Hailey and refocused on the fourteen-year-old beaming at me from her hospital bed, her small frame buried under a pink blanket. She looked better than the last time I’d seen her, some color back in her cheeks, and relief flooded my chest at the sight.
“Mal, finally, someone with some proper appreciation for my presence.” I grinned as I strode inside, forcing my legs to work despite the oh, shit adrenaline still pumping through me. “Missed me?”
“Obviously,” she shot back, sticking out her tongue. “But what are you doing here so late?”
“Came to see my favorite troublemaker.” I reached into my duffel and pulled out a small bag of sour gummy worms, tossing them to her. “Thought you might need a sugar fix.”
Her eyes lit up as she caught the bag. “Lifesaver! The nurses have been gatekeeping my snacks.”
“Because you eat like a gremlin,” Hailey muttered, arms still crossed as she stared me down.
I could feel her eyes burning into the side of my face, demanding answers, but I was determined to drag this out as long as possible. Because this? This was an opportunity .
An unexpected , terrifying , heart-palpitating opportunity…and I was going to milk it for all it was worth.
I turned to Mallory; confusion etched into my face. “Wait, hold up. Why does she sound like she’s got authority over you? You got a new nurse I didn’t know about?” I tilted my head, and I saw Hailey roll her eyes out of the corner of my eyes.
Mallory giggled, her cheeks flushing with excitement. “No, dummy! This is my sister!”
I blinked. Once. Twice.
The words took a second to process.
Sister .
Mallory Hartley... was Hailey Baleman’s sister. Holy shit. For a split second, my heart stopped, and then it started pounding again, twice as fast.
Sister? I thought . But they have totally different surnames . Did they have... different parents? But, as I stared at Mallory, it was clear that they looked exactly alike.
Same sharp, dark eyes, same high cheekbones that spoke of their east Asian ancestry, and the same natural confidence in their posture.
But while Hailey carried herself like she was carved from ice, all precision and control, Mallory was warmth and energy, her rounder face still full of childhood softness.
Her cheeks dimpled when she grinned, a stark contrast to Hailey’s usual cool, unreadable expressions.
And shit, how had I never made the connection before?
The different last names had thrown me off, sure, but looking at them now—Mallory practically buzzing with excitement, Hailey watching me like a hawk—there was no denying it. They were sisters.
And I realized something else: It was because of Mallory.
The reason why I'd seen Hailey that day—the first time I’d ever seen her in this very hospital, back before I’d even known her name. The day I’d watched her from across the hall, laughing softly as she walked down this very corridor, her guard lowered in a way I’d never seen again since.
That was the moment I’d fallen.
And she had been here. Visiting Mallory .
This. Whole . Time.
Shit, shit, okay, I just needed to play this cool.
Mallory, completely oblivious to my internal meltdown, popped a gummy worm into her mouth and continued grinning up at me. "I can't believe you didn’t know! I talk about Hailey all the time."
I scrambled for a response, trying to keep my cool. "I—uh—yeah, you do," I said slowly, rubbing the back of my neck. "I guess I just… never put two and two together."
I should have figured it out, damn it. What other woman would've fit Mallory's descriptions any more than Hailey Baleman? I—
"That's because you're kinda slow sometimes." Mallory chirped and I scoffed in disbelief at her, brows rising.
I barely had any time to defend myself when Hailey snorted and said, "Finally, something we agree on." And she didn't let me get a word in as those icy eyes held mine and she asked, "So, how the hell do you know my sister?"
What, did she expect me to just give away my secret, just like that? It was the only lifeline I had right now to make sure I was always in her orbit and she had another thing coming if she thought I was going to give it away just like that.
Leaning against the wall with the most casual, unbothered stance I could muster despite my pulse going haywire, I smirked. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”