PROLOGUE
Atlas
Istand outsideGray’s condo, knuckles hovering an inch from the door, but I don’t knock.
Not yet.
My heart is heavy, my hand clenched in a tight fist that could as easily punch the door as politely rap on it to announce my arrival.If I just stay here in the hallway long enough, maybe I won’t have to face what’s waiting inside.
I’ve been here many times before.Every time I played in Chicago, I stayed with Gray rather than at the team hotel.I couldn’t miss the opportunity to spend time with my closest friend.
This building’s nice, high-rise glass and steel, with a view of the lake if you’ve got the right corner, which he does not.Gray worked his ass off for it, although an accountant’s salary doesn’t get you much in the way of space these days.I remember relaxing on the balcony, reminiscing about the old days back in Buffalo.Distance may have separated us after we became adults, but we always stayed tight.Daily texts, weekly calls and in the summer, we always went somewhere together.Boys’ trips that involved adventure and way too much beer.
But that was all before… this.
Stage four lung cancer.
It doesn’t seem real, not when I say it in my head.Gray never smoked a day in his life, and still he’s the one whose body betrayed him.It’s not fucking fair and that’s really the reason I want to punch the door.
This is the guy who was always steady, always the responsible one, and now he’s fading from this earth.
I don’t have long to spend with him.The Titans play tonight against the Chicago Bobcats, and I’ve got to head to the arena in a few hours.I took a commercial flight here from Pittsburgh and I’ll reconnect with the team after tonight’s game for the rest of this road trip.
But I had to come.I couldn’t pass up this opportunity, not when Gray has been given a handful of weeks, maybe a month if he’s lucky.And just on the other side of this door, I’ll visit with him beside his hospice bed and try to put on a brave face.
I take a deep breath, flex my hand, then let it drop to my side.My stomach twists.I’m not ready to see how bad it’s gotten.
I picture him as a kid—us in Buffalo, sticks clattering on the pavement, pretending we were hockey stars while the streetlights buzzed overhead.Gray’s steady calm to my hot head.He was the one person I could count on when my parents flaked, when my dad missed another game or my mom shrugged me off with a “You’re tough, Atlas.You can handle it.”
Gray never said that.He just showed up.Always.
Which is why I can’t keep standing here like a coward.
I finally knock.
The door opens and I’m not surprised to come face-to-face with Maddie.Of course she’d be here.She’s the one caring for Gray until the end.
I already feel my jaw tighten, which happens whenever I’m in her presence.
Maddie St.James is petite, maybe five three tops, with a sharp blond bob that cuts at her jawline.Underneath, streaks of black peek through, deliberate and edgy.Her eyes are the kind of blue that catch you off guard—brilliant and intense.She bears a small silver stud in her nose.She’s striking, yeah.But she’s also prickly as hell, standing there with her arms crossed, expression flat like she’s already tired of me.
And the worst part?I don’t even know why she irritates me so much, but she does.The way she looks at me grates, like I’ve already failed some unspoken test.
She doesn’t greet me.Just steps back, silent, making space for me to come in.
“Where’s Grayce?”I ask, brushing past her, the silence too loud.
“Napping,” she says, clipped.
“And Gray?”
She tips her chin toward the bedroom down the hall.“See for yourself.He’s been waiting for you.”
I hesitate for a beat, then move down the hall.Maddie trails behind me, her presence a weight I don’t want but can’t shake.
The bedroom hits me like a punch.
It’s not Gray’s room anymore, it’s a hospital.The curtains are half-drawn and the smell of antiseptic hangs in the air.And in the middle of it all is Gray.
