10. Corey

My head pounds as I sit up.

My tongue feels like sandpaper, and my eyes are gritty. Goddamn, I’ve become a lightweight. Only four beers and two shots of Jaeger, and I have the hangover from hell.

The ringing that woke me up sounds again. I swipe at my phone, prepared to silence it, but stop when I see Anna’s name.

“Hey,” my voice is too loud in my ears.

“Don’t tell me I woke you up.” Her voice is so cheerful my brain protests the sound. But I don’t pull the phone away. Instead, I lean back on my bed. “Are you sick?”

“Maybe,” I admit.

She laughs, loud and wickedly in my ear, like she knows how much it hurts. “Sometimes I’m jealous I missed out on college, and other times, I realize I likely saved myself a lot of brain cells and terrible hangovers.”

My chest aches at the reminder of what she gave up as she battled for her life. It wasn’t just prolonged stays in the hospital and frequent appointments. It was also her constantly being exhausted, sick, and frail while forced to isolate at home when she wasn’t in the hospital because her immune system was too weak to battle even a cold.

Thankfully, she kicked cancer’s ass and later double majored, including her veterinarian degree—her childhood dream. Still, they were primarily earned with online classes, so Anna never experienced living in a dorm, joining a sorority, or any of the other milestones shows and movies convinced her she was missing out on and yearned to experience.

“But then again, you’ve never cared much for brain cells, have you? Otherwise, you would have chosen a far less violent sport to play.”

“Look who woke up and chose violence,” I say. “Why are you calling this early? It’s…” I roll to look at the clock.

“Nearly noon,” Anna informs me wryly.

“Shit.” The word is barely above a whisper as I wipe my eyes. I haven’t slept this late in… I can’t remember how long it’s been.

Hudson McKinley, one of my best friends and team captain, would have my balls.

“Did you have fun at the party?” Her voice is gentler, coaxing.

“Yeah.” The birthday celebration at Blake’s was what had me drinking my first beer.

“Did you run into Breanne?” Anna asks.

I grunt incoherently. My ex seeking me out was the reason the second beer went down too fast. I wasn’t surprised to see Breanne. We dated for so long that our friend circles intersected at multiple points.

Anna sighs. “You were supposed to call. Please tell me you guys didn’t decide to try dating again.”

“I only said I’d call if I was considering it,” I remind her while rolling onto my back and closing my eyes, recalling too many details of last night.

“Vic and I are on our way over. We’re bringing you breakfast.”

I mumble a goodbye and move to my side, searching for a dark corner to focus on while my stomach eases. I’ve been here for two days and am already itching to return to North Carolina. My reasons aren’t solely attributed to running into Breanne, but after last night, it’s a top contributing one.

Sixteen months ago, while still dating, Breanne told me she wanted more–more commitment, more time, more dates, and all I could offer was more calls because I was halfway across the country from her, and she had no interest in moving to North Carolina.

She said she wanted to see other people, afraid that if we stayed together, she might regret not dating anyone else.

It was the same line she’d given me a dozen times before. We’d broken up more times than I could count. Two weeks later, she posted about dating someone new, and I was officially done. Done caring. Done waiting for her to decide if I was enough. Done.

Last night, she brought her new boyfriend to the party, and I was too proud to measure myself against the asshole until the third beer joined the first two.

He knew who I was. I could tell by how he tracked me like I was in the pocket on the field, and he was afraid I might lay him out at any minute. Part of me wanted to.

The fourth beer tasted like water when Breanne told me she missed me and wanted to see me before I left, and all I could think about was Fallon, a girl I barely knew.

My brain objects when I try to recall how in the hell that conversation started and what happened after.

I groan as the doorbell rings, prompting me to sit up. I remain still for a moment, testing my stomach’s limits and waiting until the ice pick in my head weakens before grabbing a clean tee from my suitcase and a pair of athletic shorts.

Anna has already let her and Vic inside and are sitting around the kitchen table when I make it downstairs.

She chuckles. “You look terrible.”

I release another grunt, catching a whiff of beer on my person that makes my stomach roll.

Goddamn, I stink.

Anna holds up a paper bag. “We got you breakfast burritos, and Vic made you a shake with extra ginger and honey. I also brought you some fruit.”

Half the student body thinks greasy food is the best hangover cure, but Vic taught me grease only slows the absorption of alcohol and usually makes a hangover worse. I nod in appreciation to my brother-in-law and take a healthy gulp.

I barely manage to stop myself from gagging as my stomach turns violently and my eyes water.

Vic chuckles. “I know it’s rough, but it will help.” He pats my shoulder and leans back in his chair as Anna slides a burrito to each of us.

Even queasy, my stomach rumbles with appreciation and hunger. There are many things I miss about Colorado: my sister, Vic, Diego, biking, the weather, snow, and the food are just a few of them.

Anna unveils a bowl of fruit. “Tell me how things went with Breanne.”

I shake my head as I unwrap my burrito, debating if my stomach will tolerate food. “I’m done talking about Breanne.”

“Just one question,” Anna says. “Was it weird to see her?” She spears several slices of melon. “It had to be weird. This was the first time you’ve seen her since you two broke up.” She leans closer, her eyes rounding. “What did she say?”

I snicker and shake my head. “That’s two questions.”

“But they’re interconnected, so it counts as one.”

I take a questionable bite of the egg burrito packed with vegetables, cheese, and breakfast sausage. Thankfully, my stomach calms at the taste of food. “She brought her boyfriend, but halfway in she ditched him and asked if we could hang out this week while I’m home.” I shake my head to filter the details I don’t need to share with my sister, like how I’m pretty sure Breanne had run her fingers down my arm and across my chest and stared at me as she did before we’d sneak off together and find an empty room like we did throughout high school. “At one point, she was talking about a family barbecue…?” A silent question at the end of my sentence has me looking at Anna.

She looks alarmed. “God, tell me you said no.”

“I said hell no.”

Anna giggles, delighted. “Thank heavens. I was prepared to remind you why that relationship should have ended five years ago. You should block her.”

“I’ve known her since I was ten.”

“More reasons,” Anna persists. “She’s not your person, Core. And I’m woman enough to admit that if Vic were talking to some girl he’d dated for years with the excuse that he had known her most of his life, I’d still feel stabby. It’s better to cut all the ties. I promise, eventually, you’ll find the girl who gets so entangled in your thoughts you can’t go a day—a single moment—without thinking about her.”

“Breanne and I don’t text each other,” I assure her, adding a thick layer of salsa to my burrito. “I only hear from her in random mass texts to our friend group during holidays. Besides, I don’t have time for a relationship. Hell, I’ll barely have time for sleep come August.”

Anna shakes her head. “You should be making time. Life is fleeting. We aren’t guaranteed anything.”

Guilt is a dumbbell in my stomach as I glance at my sister.

She doesn’t allow me the space to apologize. “I know you have other priorities. Football’s important to you, I get that, but finding your person, the one who makes you feel the utz, that’s more important than any job or touchdown.”

“Utz is a snack food,” I deadpan.

Anna shakes her head adamantly. “It’s a feeling. The feeling you get when you find the right person and realize your soul is tied to theirs.” She glances at Vic as she says this. Anna met Vic a year into treatments. He was one of her nurses. She claims she knew immediately, could feel it as soon as she saw him, though they didn’t begin dating for another eighteen months, just as our grandma told us she had known it when meeting our grandpa.

“Trust me, Core,” Anna insists, “you’ll know when you feel it because it knocks you on your ass.”

“So will Jaeger,” I tell her.

She releases a dry chortle.

“If things go according to plan, I’ll be drafted this spring. A relationship is the last thing I’m looking for right now.”

The sympathetic look Anna gives me tells me she hears my lie. I likely would have proposed if Breanne had told me she was ready to commit last year rather than suggesting we take another break. I hate the dating scene. I hate when someone cyberstalks me and thinks they know exactly who I am without ever meeting me. I hate the newness of a relationship when I don’t know what will offend or upset a girl, and it feels like I’m walking on eggshells, and they are, too.

It doesn’t help that four of my closest friends in North Carolina—my inner circle—are all in long-term, serious, committed relationships and would all likely hear this ridiculous claim of utz that my family has been spreading for generations and agree that it’s real and tangible.

“How was the night besides that? Did you have fun?” My sister looks so damn hopeful it makes me feel like less of a jerk to lie and tell her I did. The truth is, after being gone so long, most of the people here feel like strangers, and last night had me questioning how much of high school was a giant charade. Despite missing parts of Colorado, my home is in North Carolina, and my friends there don’t give a single fuck about keg stands or rumors from high school. We’ve been through too much together to be anything but authentic and transparent. Hudson McKinley, Greyson Meyers, Zack Palmer, and Nolan Payne are the brothers I chose—the brothers who chose me.

Anna smiles, but she knows. She experienced a similar attrition of friends when she was diagnosed. Initially, a flood of people—some she barely knew—showed up with gifts and well wishes, but after a while, only a couple of people continued showing up and were there when she rang the bell to celebrate the scans that showed she had officially beat cancer.

“Dad’s on his way home,” Anna says.

It’s my turn to offer a placating smile. She still believes his lies, but I gave up believing he’d show up while she was in the thick of her battle. I don’t tell her this, though. Instead, I field questions about this past winter when our friend group became even tighter because a vengeful asshole stalked Mila Atwool, Hudson’s best friend and Grey’s girlfriend.

“How’s Mila handling it?” Anna asks. Her question is genuine. Despite never meeting my friends, she cares. She always has. “I can’t imagine how traumatic that would be.”

“Honestly, she’s handling it better than Grey. He struggles not to act like an overbearing asshole when she doesn’t respond right away or is late.”

Vic chuckles mirthlessly as he grabs a second burrito. “I’d lose my fucking mind.” The gleam in his eyes confirms his validity.

I want to say that the deep sense of unease Grey and Vic are referring to is another strike against relationships, but if anything, it’s the opposite. Grey and Mila found strength and acceptance in each other, and after the hell they went through, I’m pretty sure they can weather anything.

“How’s Palmer?” Anna asks.

Zack Palmer has been my best friend since I moved to North Carolina. Easy-going, sarcastic, and always up for a good time is how the world sees him, but behind his often-carefree demeanor is the most genuinely good person I’ve ever known. He cares and notices too much, similar to Anna. If he had been there last night, he would have found every excuse to keep me from talking to Breanne, knowing I’d washed my hands of that relationship for the final time.

“Aside from his attraction to psychos, he’s good.”

Anna tips her head back and laughs. “I’d take offense if I hadn’t heard some of the stories about the girls he’s dated.”

Vic looks between us, bemused.

“One girl laid in front of their bus because she didn’t want him to go to an away game,” she tells him.

“The girl he’s with now is…” I shake my head, regretting the slight movement that jars my headache. “Everything you’ve done—she’s done. Every win, award, fear—she’s experienced it all, and it’s always a hundred times better, scarier, or whatever.”

Anna grabs a handful of grapes. “She’s trying too hard. Be patient with her. I’ve had to be that person a lot since my blank years.”

“She’s nothing like you. You try too hard by talking too much because you worry everyone will feel awkward if it’s quiet. This girl turns everything into a competition.”

“I talk too much?” Anna turns to look at Vic.

He takes a large bite of his burrito so he doesn’t have to answer. But Anna is relentless.

“Sometimes.” He shrugs. “But it’s endearing.”

Anna swings her dark gaze back to me. “Why didn’t you ever tell me?”

“Because you do it to be nice. If anyone’s bothered by it, they’re a dick,” I assure her.

She eats a grape and silently debates my answer for a long minute before shrugging. “Well, you better shower and finish your smoothie so you sober up because Dad’s going to grill you if you look this awful when he gets home.”

Reluctantly, I do, though I’m still expecting Anna to receive a text or call informing her our dad had to delay his trip or make a change of plans, excuses he knows far better than us.

The joke’s on me, though, when he walks through the front door hours later, wearing a suit and grimace.

Mom sits up straighter, and Vic drains the remaining bourbon in his glass.

Dad’s gaze focuses on me, looking as surprised by my presence as I am by his. He nods and sets his small travel suitcase down. “It’s good to see you, son.”

I stand, embracing him in a hug that is neither warm nor familiar.

As we part, Anna wipes her eyes, earning my entire focus and confusion. She stands, hugging our dad. “How was your flight?”

If he notices her emotions, he doesn’t mention them as he nods. “Colorado turbulence.”

Anna laughs, but she wipes her eyes again before returning to her seat next to Vic. “I wanted us to eat first, but…” She turns to look at Vic as he places a hand on her shoulder, his face reddening as he blinks too fast.

“Is it a baby?” Mom asks, clutching her hands. “I knew when you said you wanted us to all be together, you had some big news.”

“A baby?” Dad asks, giving a firm shake of his head. “No. She’s only twenty-six. They just bought that fixer-upper, and she’s still working for Simmons.” He turns to look at her. “Are you considering my offer to move to New York?”

I don’t know the details of the offer he’s referring to, but I can only imagine it includes taking on a top band-level role at the bank our family started generations ago.

Anna swallows. “I had my annual scan last week, and it came back with a spot they’re concerned about. We don’t know anything yet, but they want to remove it and do a biopsy.”

My ears ring, and my heart shreds within my chest walls as I stare at Anna.

“It can’t,” I say. “You…” My words about this not being right or fair stall, and my eyes heat with unshed tears.

Anna’s lips thin. “If it’s cancer, we caught it really early.” Her voice is hoarse, and her chin wobbles, revealing emotions she’s working to mask. I hate that she’s trying to keep her shit together for our benefit.

“We should get a second opinion. You should come to New York. The doctors are the best in the country.” Dad turns to his phone, ready to make calls.

“My oncologist is world-renowned,” Anna says, her voice firmer this time. “I’m not moving right now. My friends and job are here. So are Vic’s.”

Dad scoffs. He doesn’t voice that he thinks Vic’s job as a nurse is one of a million factors that makes him undeserving of his daughter. He hides his displeasure for Vic so well I think Anna is convinced it was a misunderstanding. But the truth is, our dad has never approved of Vic, and when Anna refused to make him sign a prenup before their wedding, it made our father’s disapproval grow and spread into loathing. “Anna, you’ll see the best doctors there.” He shakes his head. “There’s no one better.”

Mom clears her throat. “Have you considered natural treatments?”

“Jesus Christ,” Dad mutters. “Diana, don’t.”

“The treatment makes her sicker than the cancer,” Mom argues. “There are vitamins, spices, teas, natural breathing remedies?—”

“For fuck’s sake.” Dad runs a hand over his face.

Despite the offense that has my shoulders squaring from how he talks to her, I can’t find it in me to object. My mom’s fallen victim to snake oil treatments too many damn times.

“If it’s cancer,” Vic interjects. “She’s going to need medicine. If you want to suggest vitamins or teas, I’ll review them and possibly add them to her treatment, but we’re not rolling the dice here. Not with Anna.”

My sister glances at him, and Vic takes her hand. I note the way his fingers tremble and feel another tear in my chest, knowing my brother-in-law hates this damned carousel and is likely struggling just as much as we are to process the news.

“When’s your next appointment?” I ask. “When’s the surgery?”

“In the next couple of weeks.” Her voice warbles, prompting Vic to tighten his grip on her hand.

“We should consider New York.” Dad’s words don’t sound like a suggestion because they’re not.

Anna shakes her head, though. “I’m not interested in going to New York.”

“After meeting with the doctors here, we could at least visit New York and hear what they have to say,” Vic says.

Anna’s jaw drops. “I don’t want this to rearrange our lives.”

Vic rubs his fingers over his forehead, looking older than his thirty years. “The only priority is your health. If they can do something more or better, we have to take the opportunity.”

“You hate flying,” Anna protests, tears building in her eyes.

Dad sighs, and my muscles strain in response. Weaknesses and vulnerabilities become pressure points for my father to extort. “He doesn’t have to go.”

Anna balks at him, and he seems to read her cue, straightening and shifting his condescending gaze from Vic. He doesn’t apologize—he never does.

I lean back in my chair, too numb to further process my father’s reactions, and glance at Anna. The last twenty-four hours move through my thoughts on fast-forward: mountain biking, her laughing at Diego’s shitty attempts to flirt, the way her gaze strayed with guilt when we exchanged excuses for not visiting, our conversation with Mom last night that had Anna staying until I left for that damn party I didn’t want to be at.

Guilt and regret tunnel into my thoughts as I think about how much I’d drunk to ignore an uncomfortable situation while Anna prepared to share this bombshell.

“It’s going to be okay,” Anna says.

I glance up, realizing the words are intended for all, but she’s looking at me.