“Clara has a doctor’s appointment. I’m going with her.”
“What’s wrong?” I can’t help but yell out. My mind instantly goes back to Lee and what she’s vetoing.
Rowan turns to me, his brow furrowed. “Nothing’s wrong. Are you good? You look pale.”
A huge smile takes over Kieran’s face. “No. Shut up. There’s no way… Nix would have told me.”
Declan asks, “Told her what? What’s going on?”
Clara turns into Rowan’s arms, a huge smile plastered on her face, “Well, we have to go make sure the baby is healthy.” The whole room erupts into cheers and our favorite game of ‘pass the sister around’. Once I pull Clara into a bear hug and thank her for being the best wife to my brother and mom to my nephew, I sneak out of the room.
I’m ecstatic for them. They’re amazing parents to Rhett, and this baby that I hope is a girl is going to be just as loved and protected as he is. I’ve just been having a harder time watching my family get the happily ever after that I’ve always wanted. I want that with Lee. I don’t care what name she goes by now. I don’t care that she won’t tell me what happened or why she’s sick. Fuck, at this point I don’t even care that I thought she was dead for five thousand eight hundred and twenty-eight days. I just want to be together. I want to start our lives together. But we can’t, because I hold secrets and so does she, and until we get all that truth out, no matter how uncomfortable it is, we’re destined to just be two stars passing in the night. So close to lighting up the sky, but just far enough away to only be two blimps on each other’s radars.
* **
It’s been a week and a half since the last time I saw Lee. We talk on the phone and text daily, but she’s avoiding me. I’ve had my eye on her apartment, but she hasn’t left, not even for therapy last week. Her family has practically been camped out there, including her little sister, who’s supposed to be away at school. I’ve just decided to go over and see if she’ll agree to see me when Flynn walks into my room and heads straight for the couch, flopping down on his back, his left arm over his face. He lets out a loud groan of frustration before taking a deep breath.
He doesn’t uncover his face as he begins talking, “I need advice.”
Grabbing my rocks glass, I throw back the rest of its contents and mentally prepare for whatever bullshit this is about to be. “Okay, I’m listening. Hit me with it.”
“I’ve lost it.”
“Your mind? Yes, absolutely.”
“No, asshole, I’ve lost my rhythm, my mojo, my vibes, my luck. I practiced like shit today. I’ve played like shit the past two fucking weeks.”
“Okay, you’ve lost me. What are you talking about?” I don’t get the whole superstition thing that Flynn treats like law. I played baseball growing up, and don’t get me wrong, I had a certain way that I liked things, but Flynn takes it to the extreme.
“I mean, I’d found it. My good luck charm, if you will. It was working, and now it’s gone, and with it my talent apparently.”
“You didn’t lose your talent, you’re just in a funk. Find a new ritual. You’ll be fine.”
“Spoken like a man who has no idea the importance of a game day ritual.”
I can’t help but laugh at him. He’s ridiculous. He does this periodically, and the ritual that stops working sends him into a spiral every time. It can be anything from his pregame nap was cut short to the type of pasta for his pregame meal is the wrong shape. However, most of the time it’s the woman in his bed that throws him off.
“Flynn, I’m not trying to be unreasonable here. I’m just saying I don’t think you’re talentless. Especially not because the chick you’ve been fucking moved on.”
He sits up and glares over at me, “How’d you know?” He practically exclaims.
“Probably because we have this exact conversation every other month. Stop putting all your mental capacity into fucking before a game, and you’ll be fine.”
He grumbles about something I can’t quite make out. “Well, what do you suggest I replace it with, oh smart one?”
“I don’t know, read a fucking book or something.”
Flynn is fine, he’s just dramatic. He doesn’t get that shit from me; that was instilled in him from Kieran and Declan.
Sully appears in the doorway, leaning against it. “You break my other half, Mac?” Amusement was clear in his voice.
“Nah, some girl did. Get him out of my space, though, before I claim favorite brother rights. He’s been squatting in here almost long enough for it.”
“Nope, not happening. Come on, sad boy summer. Let’s go.” Sully walks over and pulls Flynn up before throwing his arm over Sully’s shoulders as if Flynns physically wounded.
“Can we go grab some ice time, Sul?” Flynn asks in a half whine half whisper. The dramatic fool is acting like he’s on death’s doorstep.
“Sure Flynnie, we can do that.” The second they cross thethreshold of my bedroom door, they break out into loud, boisterous laughter and begin pushing off each other.
