53. Fallon

Around of applause has my confidence bristling. The drill we’re running isn’t about speed or finesse but brute strength, and I’m not shining like I did the past two days.

I try to shake off my nerves, which remind me that I’m not impressing the coaches and that an injury might steal my decision for Spain and Camden.

The head coach calls a break, and I’m happy to slink to the sideline, where I drink a full water in just a couple of gulps. My blood sugar has been high all morning after being low most of the night. It isn’t helping my mood or focus.

As the coaches talk on the sidelines, I can’t help but imagine they’re talking about me when their brows draw low with a look of bitterness. I’m the youngest in my grouping by several years, making me a little smaller and weaker in muscle mass. I wish this was our first day of tryouts rather than our last because I don’t want this to be their final reminder of my playing.

I roll my shoulders, trying to stop the negative thoughts from forming because if there’s one thing I know for sure, it’s that self-doubt will lead to mistakes on the field. I need to focus on where I know I can excel so they remember that side of me when making their decision.

We resume tryouts, running the same drill. I try to keep my shoulders and chin high, moving through the formation again and again and again. They’re relentless.

I push myself, trying not to leave a single doubt in their heads or mine as we complete the day. Many are laughing, their spirits high as tryouts conclude, but I still feel torn, unsure what to do.

The assistant coach stops next to me as I finish the last of a sports drink.

“You played very well.”

I swallow, wondering if it would be appropriate to ask her if I should stay—if it would matter or play into their decision. I know several are staying. The fact has been a quiet murmur through the crowds over the past few days, a reminder of the sacrifices we take to play at this level.

“In another year, you’ll be bigger. Stronger. You’ll be formidable.”

“Are you giving me a heads-up that I won’t be selected?”

She smirks as she shakes her head. “We believe in investing in potential, and you scream potential.”

Formidable.

The word plays through my thoughts like a broken music box as a quiet dream slowly stretches in my thoughts. If they find me formidable, would others? Would I be selfish or stupid to consider someone else might?

My thoughts barrel to Tobias, realizing with a crude sense of reality that I’d stayed in that relationship because I’d doubted that I deserved more—better.

Madrid isn’t Tobias. This league and opportunity is one of the greatest honors of my career and life, but I’ve worked so damn hard, and the idea that if I wait another year, I might have a choice in my decision rather than waiting on someone else’s like I did with Tobias has the constant flutter of nerves I’ve felt since Saturday morning, finally calming.

“Thank you for this opportunity.”

She nods.

I stick around for another hour, exchanging goodbyes and contact information with several players before heading back to the Banks Hotel.

As I wait for my shower to warm, I text Corey. Between the time zone and tryouts, I’ve barely spoken to him since Tuesday night.

Me: Tryouts are finished!!! How was your day?

Corey: I’m proud of you. Can you talk for a minute?

I turn off the shower, abandoning getting clean, and call him.

“Hey.” His voice sends a soft shiver down my spine.

“I thought you’d be in class.” I sit on the edge of my bed.

“Actually, I flew to Colorado yesterday,” he says.

My stomach turns queasy, and I’m suddenly covered in goose bumps, despite my walk back to the hotel. “Is everything okay?” It’s a stupid question. I know it’s not.

“Anna’s sick. I didn’t want to tell you and distract you.”

Offense bares its teeth. He was the first person I thought of and called when I learned that I might need to stay here for a month, and I want to be that first person for him.

“Is she all right? What happened?” I ask, pushing through my hurt feelings.

He sighs, a quiet and defeated sound that makes my heart ache for him. “Chemo has destroyed her immune system. She caught a cold, and it turned into a bad case of pneumonia.”

“I’m so sorry.”

“She’s improving. They have her on IVs of antibiotics, and they think she’ll be able to go home in a few days. They’re running some tests today to ensure it’s just pneumonia in her lungs and that the cancer hasn’t spread.” His voice is soft. Too soft.

Dazedly, I shake my head. “What can I do? How can I help?”

“No. There’s nothing you need to do or worry about. You need to focus on soccer.”

I can’t even recall the last twelve hours as I imagine Corey in the hospital, reliving the memories that inspired his tattoos. I hate that he’s doing it again and alone.

My open suitcase beckons me, and without shifting the phone from my ear, I shove the few items I’ve unpacked back into my bag. “What time are the tests happening?”

“We’re on hospital time. Who knows.” I imagine him gripping the back of his neck as he does when stressed. “I have to go. The doctor’s here, and Vic ran to grab food. I’ll text you in a few.”

“Okay.”

He hangs up, and my heart squeezes with another painful ache. Rejection is such a fickle bitch that seems to never wear down. Despite knowing Corey’s feelings for me, his not reaching out feels like a rejection, regardless of how many times I try to tell myself it wasn’t.

With my heart in my hands, I grip my phone and search for flights to Vail, Colorado, then take the fastest shower of my life and head for the airport, trying my best to shed every doubt and leave them here in Spain.

“I’m glad to share some positive news,” Dr. Shintara, Anna’s oncologist, says as she enters the hospital room. “Everything looks remarkably well.” She flips on the computer in the corner and signs in before going over a dozen stats from different tests they’ve run to ensure the cancer hasn’t spread. “At this rate, I think we might be able to end the chemo by the end of next month.”

Relief hits me so potently my shoulders sag. Three days ago, I returned to Colorado and felt like I’d entered a nightmare, finding Anna weak and exhausted in a hospital bed with a dozen wires attached to her. Her skin was pallid, and she could barely remain conscious.

Anna hiccups with a relieved sob, and Vic’s lower lip trembles as he hugs her close. Through all of this, I sometimes forget how much he has to lose. He never shies from proving that my sister’s his whole damn world.

Anna’s all right.

Anna’s all right.

Anna’s all right!

A full gamut of emotions rolls through me as the words replay in my head with more confidence, led by relief and chased by guilt and fear.

Dad reaches forward and shakes the doctor’s hand, bringing me back to the present. “Thank you,” he tells her.

Mom weeps into a folded tissue as I extend my hand to the doctor as well.

She shakes my hand, then turns to Anna. “I’ll see you in a couple of weeks.”

Anna nods, her smile authentic, though tears track down her cheeks.

“This is great news, but we should still go to New York and get another opinion,” Dad insists.

Vic wraps a hand around Anna’s shoulders, pulling her closer to him like he’s a human shield.

“The tests aren’t different here than in New York, Dad.” Anna wheezes, barely getting the final words out.

Dad’s flattened brow and straight shoulders guarantee an objection, but to my surprise, he doesn’t voice it.

Anna glances at me with her red-rimmed eyes and then coughs again. I was shocked they took her off the ventilator so quickly. It’s only been three days, and her breaths still sound like the soundtrack for a haunted house.

Dad’s phone rings, and he moves as though to silence it but hesitates.

“You can answer,” Anna tells him. “I know the office has been looking for you.”

To my surprise, he’s been sending most calls to voicemail and then listening to them in batches whenever Anna sleeps. He’s been present, watchful even, which has suspicion leaning into my thoughts.

Dad nods before slipping out into the hall.

“Vic, would you and Mom get one of those maple scones from the bakery?” Anna asks, looking up at him.

The fact that she still has the hospital bakery’s menu memorized is a reminder of how much time she’s spent here over the years.

Vic hesitates, but Anna squeezes his hand.

“You really shouldn’t be having any sugar. You know that goes against your diet. No sugar, and no gluten,” Mom says.

“It’s a special occasion,” Anna protests.

“We’ll see if they have some green tea, too,” Vic says, slowly releasing Anna’s hand. He shoves his wallet into his back pocket and sets a hand on my mom’s shoulder, gently ushering her out the door.

Anna’s sunken gaze meets mine, and she grins, but it forms too slowly, rattling more memories loose. “I’m sorry Vic called you.”

I shake my head. “I would have kicked his ass if he didn’t.”

She smirks. “I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear that.”

I take a couple of steps closer to the side of her hospital bed. “You ready to break out of here tomorrow?”

She nods and closes her eyes as though trying to get comfortable for another nap. “I hate sleeping here. It’s never quiet or dark.” She opens her eyes again. “And it triggers nightmares from those years.”

“You’ll be back home to your zoo soon,” I tell her. “Maybe it will get Scooter to come out. I had to hunt for him this morning because I haven’t seen him since I arrived.”

Anna chuckles. “Tortoises sleep a lot. They know how to enjoy life.”

“Considering your tortoise has his own bedroom and heated palace, he’s definitely enjoying life.”

Anna’s smile stretches, but it dims as her gaze meets mine again. “You look miserable.”

“I’m just tired.” I run a hand down my face, hoping it might wipe away any residual expression that makes my sister study me too closely.

“Why haven’t I seen you texting every five seconds like you were in May? Is Fallon busy with soccer?”

I release a heavy sigh without meaning to. “Everything’s fine.”

Anna stares at me. “I had to be on a ventilator. The least you can do is humor me and tell me the truth.”

“You’re playing the guilt card now?”

“Only because you’re forcing me.”

I shake my head and release a dry laugh before sinking into the seat next to her where Vic has been spending his days and most nights.

“She’s in Spain trying out for a pro league.”

“Oh damn. When you said she was good at soccer, I didn’t realize you meant pro-level.”

“She’s so damn good, Anna, and she’s worked her ass off to get here.” I rub a hand over the back of my neck.

“Long distance will be tough, but you two can make it work. You spent your first month texting back and forth.”

“It didn’t work with Breanne.”

Anna sputters, and her eyes turn accusing. “You and Breanne broke up a hundred times before you moved away.”

“I know, but it’s going to be the same issues. I’ll still be buried in homework, classes, and football and won’t be able to support her in the ways I want to—the way she deserves to be. I don’t want to hold her back.”

“Good,” Anna snaps. “You shouldn’t hold her back, much less want to. It doesn’t have to be either-or, Corey. You told me that Hudson became a better player and captain when he began dating Evelyn. Instead of worrying about what could go wrong, maybe you should consider how you could make each other shine because that’s what the person with utz does.” She glances at her wedding band. “They make you shine, even in a hospital bed. Even at your weakest.” Her eyes shift to mine. “And judging by how depressed you look and how worried you are about her feelings and future, I’m guessing she has the utz, or at least the potential.”

“I don’t want to fuck this up.”

Anna offers me a gentle smile. “You won’t. Trust yourself, Core. Trust her.”

“Since we’re dishing out advice, why aren’t you telling Dad to back off with discussions about the bank? He dropped in on me and my friends at the beach house. He’s confident you’re going to accept the role. I thought you were going to take a step back and consider staying here and opening a vet clinic? You hate the bank.”

“You hate the bank,” she counters.

“What about having to commute to New York?”

“Dad’s old school. He could work from here if he chose to, but I kind of like the idea of moving to New York, or at least part of the time.”

“What about the hours? The travel? The meetings? Do you really want all that?”

Anna smiles at me. “Again, old-school. I know I wouldn’t be able to fit everything into an eight-to-five schedule, but unlike the men in my life…” she flashes me a knowing look, “I don’t have workaholic tendencies. Being sick and raised how we were has taught me to acknowledge and respect my limits, listen to my body, and establish boundaries.”

“How does Vic feel about everything? Is he okay with moving?”

She nods. “If things work out with our adoption plans, he’s planning to stay home and allow me to work full-time when I’m feeling strong enough.”

“No shit?”

She nods, hesitation narrowing her eyes as though expecting me to scrutinize or make fun of the gender role reversal society has painted.

“He’ll be great at that.”

Anna flashes a smile that’s filled with sincerity and nods again. “He will.”

The door to her hospital room opens, and Dad steps inside, tucking his phone into his pocket. I thought the differences I’ve witnessed over the past couple of days were recent, a phase or guilt, but thinking back on how he showed up in May as Anna had said he would and based on how he’s making efforts with Anna and my mom, I’m hoping I’m wrong.

“Everything okay?” Anna asks him.

Dad glances my way and then at Anna. “It was that doctor in New York.”

“If you’re considering this move, you might as well meet the doctor,” I tell her.

Dad looks surprised, and I don’t know if it’s because Anna told me her plans or because I just defended his side of the ongoing argument.

“I’d keep my doctors here,” Anna argues. “And I wouldn’t be moving into the role for a few more years. By then, this will be long over.”

Her words of assurance and finality hang in the air. I’m afraid to cling to them and even more afraid not to. Both feel like a bad omen, and while I’ve never believed myself to be superstitious, this is a situation I would never want to bet on.

“When’s your return flight, Core?” Anna asks.

I rub a hand down my face. Exhaustion has me in its grips. “I haven’t arranged one.”

Dad raises his brow. “I fly out on Monday for a couple of days. I could give you a lift to the airport.”

“I don’t know yet.”

A knock on the door has us turning to see Breanne, holding a bouquet of flowers and a get-well balloon. She flashes a timid smile as she takes a couple steps into the room. She glances at Anna and my father, before settling on me. “I ran into Diego, and he told me the news. I wanted to come by and see if I could help.” Her smile stamps deceivingly deeper. “How are you feeling, Anna?”

“You shouldn’t have, Breanne,” Anna says, and I know my sister means that literally and figuratively.

Breanne shakes her head. “It’s the least I could do. I was devastated when I heard the news. I still think of you guys as family. Is there anything I can do? Anything I can pick up for you guys? Food? Activities? I know how boring it can get here with…”

I don’t hear the last thing Breanne offers because my attention shifts to the doorway where Fallon stands with her suitcases in hand.