“Even at your own expense?”
“Sometimes. It depends on how much it hurts you, I guess. Or what you have to give up. Telling your dad about Maddie didn’t hurt me, and I didn’t have to give up anything. It would’ve hurt him if he didn’t know and something happened to her.”
“So you encourage selflessness? Is this yoga talking?” I crack a smile at her.
Her serious demeanor breaks and she laughs. “Maybe. I encourage selflessness and selfishness. They’re situational.” She rises from her seat and walks to the door.
Propping the crutches properly beneath my arms, I follow. She turns to look at me when I catch up. Her face is close to mine. “Miranda seems to really care about you,” she whispers.
“That’s because I pay her to,” I whisper back.
My mother makes atsk, tsksound with her tongue. I nudge her forward with my shoulder, and she laughs again, leading the way to the kitchen.
* * *
“Areyou sure you don’t want to stay for a few more days?” my dad asks.
The flames from the outdoor fire pit illuminate his hopeful face. He and my mom have each had a bottle of wine, and its effects are showing. She’s cuddled up next to him, and his arm is wrapped casually across her. It’s good to see them openly showing affection, but it’s a little…weird. Good weird, I guess.
“Miranda has already set up my rehab in Atlanta.” I glance at Miranda, who’s sitting in the chair across from me. She nods. This afternoon, after I talked with my mom, Miranda called the physical therapist I was referred to in Atlanta and set up my first appointment.
Entering an Atlanta-based appointment into my calendar hurt every part of me, but I didn’t have a choice. It needed to happen.
“Starting rehab is priority one,” I tell my parents.
“And then?” Mom asks.
I wind a hand around my neck, knead the tight muscles for a moment, and shrug. Before my injury a life without soccer seemed impossible, yet my foot hasn’t touched a soccer ball in a month. “I don’t know, Dad. I still need to rehab my knee for as long as it needs, even if I’m not playing anymore. After that, I’ll start thinking about my future.”
“I might retire in a few years,” Dad says. “Maybe you could come back here and take your place at the helm of this ship.” He gestures around us. Though we can’t see them, the acres upon acres of grapes are out there.
“I don’t know.” Seeing Ember around town, seeing her with Matt. Then the sickening thought,what if her stomach is swollen with his child? “Don’t count on me,” I say tersely. “Ask Brody.” I stare into the fire to escape the disappointment in his eyes.
“Too soon,” I hear my mother say to him. “Miranda,” she says, her voice falsely bright. “When do you and Noah take off tomorrow?”
“Tomorrow at noon.” Miranda sounds relieved. Atlanta is her home. Shame fills me. I haven’t thought of how she felt this whole time, not even once.
Miranda and my mom start a conversation about when she should come for a visit, and my dad and I stay quiet. I hate to upset him, but the wound is fresh. Right now, I can’t imagine coming back here and living in the same town as Ember, without being with her. The way he has with Maddie. Maybe he didn’t love her the way I love Ember. Maybe they had fire, but no magic.
Maybe—
My phone vibrates against me. I pull it out, see who it is, and get up as quickly as my crippled ass lets me. Miranda stands to help me with the crutches, but I’ve got them already, and I’m hobbling away as fast as possible. I round the corner of the house and lean against it.
“Hello,” I say, trying not to sound breathless. I’m in total darkness, but slowly my eyes adjust.
“Noah.” Ember breathes my name.
The sound of her voice makes me want to ignore my resolve. Loud, incessant words pound through my head and I want to scream them.Don’t do it. He’s not the one for you. We’ve been right since the beginning. We were kids but we knew. Even then, we knew.
I hold it in, and at that moment I know it’s the hardest thing I’ll ever do. I want to give Ember everything she desires, and if Matt is who she wants, I have to back out. My broken heart is a small price to pay for making her happy.
“Noah, I—”
At the same time, I say, “I’m going back to Atlanta tomorrow. I’ll rehab with the team and play again soon.”
Lies. The words knife me. They are the wrong words. They leave a foul taste in my mouth, but it’s a flavor I’ll live with if it means Ember will be happy.
“I saw you with Matt today. I came by and saw you two in your back yard. Good luck with him, Ember,” I choke out. “You deserve the best.”
