Chapter 25
Twenty-Five
Olivia
I didn’t sleep much last night. I couldn’t. The guilt kept me up like hunger pangs, eating away at whatever integrity I have
left. When I’m with Brody, it’s easy to forget what brought us together, but I tried to remind myself all night that he’s
using me too. As if knowing I was wrong about him and right about his dad is all the justification I need to keep this whole
charade going. When Brody touches me, I don’t care that he keeps me around to keep his dad afar. After seeing those horrible
texts, I’m happy to be the person who offers him protection.
I thought the relief would be instant. That I’d uncover the Parkers’ devastating secret and my grief would lift off my back
like removing heavy chain mail after battle. I feel no lighter now that I’ve found exactly what I went looking for.
There’s another mascot event this morning before the All-Star Game, but even with a fake smile plastered to the outside of
my costume’s head, I’m not sure how I’m going to muster a happy face.
Quinn is right. I need to confess to Brody my true motives for getting close to him: I’m a Hinckley and Erik Parker ruined our lives.
Obviously, I can’t tell him before the big game, or it will throw off his performance.
Still, if I can’t find the right opportunity, then I need to make it.
What’s a few more days? At this point, what’s the harm?
My phone vibrates against the nightstand with a dull buzz. Bright sunrays seep in through the cracks of the tightly drawn
curtains. Beside me, Brody sleeps, mouth agape and arms overhead. He looks peaceful. I hit Snooze on my phone before it disrupts
his REM sleep.
As I snuggle back under the covers, Brody wraps his arms around my waist and spoons me tightly. Settled back in Brody’s embrace,
my phone vibrates again. I don’t remember setting an alarm this early, let alone two of them. Begrudgingly, I reach across
the bed and fish it off the nightstand, this time checking the screen. It’s Ivy—weird.
I answer the call. “Hey?” My voice is low and gravelly as I attempt to not wake Brody. He has a big day today. The title of
All-Star MVP is up for grabs at the Western Conference versus the Eastern Conference game this afternoon.
“Olivia. Don’t freak out, but something happened to Tori,” she says.
I sit up so forcefully that I practically jump out of my skin. A tightness grips my chest and squeezes me like a tube of toothpaste.
I’ve gotten a call like this before—this is exactly how my mom sounded when she called to tell me she was picking me up early
from school. I must have asked if it was some sick twisted April Fool’s Day prank at least ten times. Screaming at her to
hit me with the punch line—to say “Gotcha!” I still remember the moment the news finally sank in. My mom and I sitting together
in the car, the silence of understanding consumed me. Dad was dead and there was nothing else to say.
Wearing Brody’s oversize T-shirt, staying in a fancy hotel, I sit in that same silence, waiting for the worst news ever—again.
When my dad died, I mourned two deaths: the death of him and the death of what he should have been. Tori is the reason I pulled
through; she’s the reason I always came out of my deep depressive episodes. She’s all I have left—I can’t lose her.
“Don’t freak out is literally the worst thing to say to someone if you don’t want them to start freaking out.” My voice shakes.
Time stands still.
“Tori was in a car accident this morning.”
“No! Not her!” Tears immediately spill. Brody is up and by my side.
“I know, it’s so scary. She broke her arm and collarbone. She’ll be out for the rest of the Barn Muckers’ season.”
My body melts into the bed as relief washes over me. But it’s quickly replaced with rage. “Ivy! What is wrong with you? Next
time LEAD WITH THAT! I thought she died.”
Ivy gasps so hard she coughs. “That’s horrible. Why would you think that?”
I aggressively dry my tears. “Text me the details, please. I’ll get on the next flight to Minnesota. Tell her I’ll be there
as soon as possible.” I hang up and jump out of bed. Wasting no time, I frantically toss unfolded clothes and loose toiletries
into my suitcase. Who needs a cup of morning coffee when you have anxiety powering your productivity. All I can think about
is the fact that I have to get back to my sister.
Brody hits the lights and begins talking into his phone. “Hey, I’ve got a family emergency to tend to, so I’m going to need
that plane to get us back to Minnesota as soon as possible.” There’s a brief pause, before he says, “Perfect. Thanks.”
As I shove my sandals into my suitcase, Brody also starts packing up his belongings.
“What are you doing?” I snap, unable to filter the angst out of my tone.
“I’m getting you back to the Twin Cities and to the hospital.” He walks over to the closet and pulls his suits off the hanging
rack.
“What about your game?” I’m frozen in place, watching him. My whole body is suddenly struck with too much PTSD to process
what’s happening or why it’s making me panic even more.
“The game doesn’t matter,” he says like it’s the end of the discussion and shoves the suits into his open suitcase.
I storm across the room, taking the suits out of his suitcase before they have time to wrinkle. “Yes, it does matter. It’s
your first one. And thanks to yesterday’s performance, you’re the guy to watch today.”
“Olivia, please let me charter the private plane to take you to your injured sister. You shouldn’t be alone.” He holds out
his hands and I reluctantly place the suits back in his arms.
I bite down hard on the inside of my cheek as tears trickle onto my lips and find their way onto the tip of my tongue. I can’t
find the words to thank him, so I’ll suck on my salty tears instead.
Rushing through the lobby on our way out of the hotel, we almost walk right past Erik Parker. If he hadn’t called out to Brody,
we would have missed him.
Stuck in place as if I’ve seen a ghost, I say to Brody, “Is that your—”
“Dad? Yeah, it is. Go wait in the car. I’ll be right out.”
Since I’m in no position to object, I do as I’m told.
I hold my breath and clench my fists as I walk past Erik.
I’ve never come face-to-face with him. He’s much shorter in person.
His face is worn with deep creases between his brows and puffy bags sagging below his eyes.
His disheveled hair tells me he didn’t take the time to look himself over in the mirror this morning.
If I had to guess, I’d say he isn’t just waking up, but rather he’s just getting back in.
Despite his rough appearance, he’s decorated himself in a way that lets everyone know he’s still got it. While his once-attractive
face and luscious hair are fading, he’s wearing leather loafers and a tailored designer sport jacket. You’ll find the resemblance
between father and son, but only if you’re really looking for it. Otherwise, it’s almost unbelievable someone so villainous
could help create a man with so much internal light that it shines through his eyes. One thing’s for certain, everything they
touch is forever changed.
I try to watch the two of them from my seat in the back of the car-service vehicle parked out front. The valet worker moves
to the other side of the entrance, and I get a better view. Erik is very animated, talking wildly with his hands. Brody is
still, head hung, and not speaking. I don’t need to hear this conversation to understand it—Erik is pissed, and this time
it’s my fault.
I used to want to destroy the Parkers. Now, without trying, I’m messing things up for Brody. I can’t handle all of this right
now, not when I need to get home. I need to make sure Tori is okay—I need to see her with my own two eyes—and then I can fix
everything with Brody. One thing at a time.
When we get to the hospital, Tori is already in the operating room and will be out of surgery in a few hours. Ivy leaves to
pick up our mom and bring her back here while I wait in the lobby for any news. Brody, who hasn’t said much since we left
the hotel, sits patiently next to me.
My knee bounces as I sink into my chair; there’s no such thing as a comfortable position in a hospital waiting room.
When I was ten, I broke my ankle playing hockey.
I slammed feetfirst into the boards and didn’t know anything was wrong until I took my skate off after the game.
My dad took me to get an X-ray and then carried me up and down the front stairs of our house for weeks so my cast wouldn’t get snowy.
When I blew out my knee senior year of college, luckily my dorm had an elevator because by then my dad was dead.
Since we were wheels up, I’ve been trying to think of a clever way to casually bring up Brody and Erik’s encounter at the
hotel but the best I could come up with was, The nice thing about having a dead parent is there’s one less person to disappoint, which didn’t seem like the right thing to say. I decide to outright ask him instead. “Everything okay with your dad?”
Brody stops his lips from quivering by drawing them into a tight line. Even for a hospital waiting room, the look on his face
is alarmingly somber. “My parents are getting a divorce.”
I wince. “I’m sorry.”
“That’s the good news. The bad news is that we all have to keep pretending everything is perfectly fine. My dad said by leaving
this morning, it’s my fault if he doesn’t get inducted into the Hall of Fame.”
I should be relieved to hear that news, but nothing about the situation feels right. “That doesn’t even make sense.”
“Welcome to life with Erik Parker.” Brody slouches over in his chair and cups his hands to his face.
Someone erupts into a coughing fit, while someone else loudly snacks on a bag of vending-machine chips. If these walls could
talk, you likely wouldn’t want to listen.
“How’s your mom doing?” I keep my voice low, to match Brody’s quiet tone. This type of conversation should be had in private, but everyone here is too distraught with their own challenges to care much about ours.
Brody tosses on the hood of his blue sweatshirt and jams his hands into the front pouch pocket. “We don’t talk much.” His
eyes well up with tears and I know I’ve struck a nerve.
I want to give him a hug—he looks like he needs it. Before I can say anything else, a nurse walks up to us. Tori is awake
and surgery was a success. They’re keeping her overnight for observation. She’s asking to see me.
I get up and gather my stuff. Turning back to Brody, I say, “Thanks again. I’m going to stay the night with her and make sure
she’s okay, but I’ll call you tomorrow.”
The next morning, I zombie-walk through the hospital with a sharp kink in my neck from sleeping on a chair beside Tori’s bed.
I stretch my neck side to side, stumbling my way toward the exit. Out of the corner of my eye, I see a blue hoodie that catches
my attention. He’s sound asleep in his chair—Brody stayed the night. I crouch down in front of him and gently shake his arm.
As his eyes slowly open, a lazy smile spreads across his face.
“I don’t want to be your girlfriend when your dad calls asking to come for a visit and you need an excuse,” I say.
His smile strains. “I want to be your girlfriend when you’ve had a bad game and need someone to stay up late playing video games with.
I want to be your girlfriend when you light yourself on fire and need someone to extinguish the flame.
I want to be your girlfriend when you need a Catan partner to carry you to victory and celebrate together with Hot Hands.
I want to be your girlfriend when you need someone to sneak you out the back door of a crowded bar.
I want to be your girlfriend, no matter what.
You did a nice thing for me this weekend and I really like you, Brody.
” My feelings flow from my mouth like poetry.
I’ve never seen something as clearly as I see him.
I want to be good like him. I want to be worthy.
A smile cracks across his face, reaching all the way up to his deep brown eyes. “I really like you more,” he says.
“You can’t turn off your competitive edge, can you?” I shake my head.
He grabs my cheek in his palm and kisses me in the lobby of the hospital.