“Then you’re right,” she told him. “I guess I still need my space.”
He nodded, and Haddie hated how much her stomach tied in knots at the wounded resignation in his eyes. “Okay,” he finally said. “I understand. I’ll let you enjoy the rest of your evening.” Then he shoved his hands in his pockets and took a couple of steps backward, until he turned and walked away.
“Can I help you, ma’am?” someone asked, and Haddie spun around to find she was suddenly at the front of the concession line, a PTO parent waiting to take her order.
“Oh!” Haddie replied. “Yes. Um…four soft pretzels, please.” Because she wasn’t going to be a total jerk and snub a guy she knew probably hadn’t eaten dinner like the rest of them.
Ninety seconds later, Haddie awkwardly carried the four paper trays that were wildly too small to hold the gargantuan pretzels back to the bleachers. She should have been surprised when she got back that Levi was gone, but she wasn’t.
“Where’d Levi go?” Emma asked.
Matteo held up his phone, brows pinched together. “He just texted. Said something came up and he’ll catch us for the next game.” His shoulders fell, only a little, but it was enough for Haddie to notice she probably was a total jerk, making him miss a game shewas sure he’d been looking forward to all week.
Emma hooked her arm through her fiancé’s and rested her head on his shoulder. “I’m sorry, Matty Matt. I know you were hoping to connect better before the wedding.”
Haddie passed out the pretzels and collapsed onto the metal bench next to Emma, two giant twists of dough in her own lap. “Everything okay with Matteo and Levi?” she asked softly enough that she hoped only Emma could hear, but Emma waved her off and tore into her pretzel.
“Just…Levi hasn’t been home much in the past decade, and all siblings have issues, you know?” she said around a mouthful of dough.
“One of those siblings can hear you,” Matteo responded from Emma’s other side.
Except Haddie had no idea. Emma was the closest thing she had to a sibling, and they’d only met as fully formed adults. “I’m sorry, Matteo,” she called back, further solidifying her total-jerk status.
Emma nudged Haddie’s shoulder with her own. “How areyoudoing?”
Haddie laughed. “Are you Joey Tribbiani-ing me?”
“Ha!” Emma replied. “If I am, is it working for you?” She batted her eyes at her friend.
Haddie stared pointedly at Emma’s boobs. Or, more specifically, the words written across her boobs on her T-shirt. “Yeah, except I don’t think at any point during the show did Joey say, ‘Hold on while I overthink this.’”
A second later, Haddie’s phone buzzed on the bench beside herwith a notification.
She frowned when she picked it up and read Emma’s text. “Why are you sending me a calendar request for a meeting at the town hall?”
Emma grimaced. “Okay, so I thought I programmed that email to go out at 7:00a.m.and notp.m.My bad?”
Haddie tapped open the calendar invite and read the no longer truncated title. “Saturday-Morning Grief Support Group,” she read. Then she glanced back up at Emma, her eyes narrowed to slits. “Do I look like I need grief support?”
Emma’s head wobbled back and forth from shoulder to shoulder. Then she held her thumb and forefinger up. “Maybe a little?”
“I’m fine,” Haddie assured her. “Especially since I’m already making headway with Principal Crawford. If I can come up with a plan for alternate funding, he agreed to meet with me and hear me out.”
“Of course you’re fine,” Emma agreed. “And I’m super happy about Principal Crawford giving you a chance to save the program. But I thought that if you weren’t ready to talk to me, then maybe you’d want to meet up with some other people who might understand what you’re going through… Not that you’re going through anything.” She shrugged. “It’s not like you have to RSVP. I just wanted to let you know the meeting existed.”
Matteo popped his last shred of pretzel in his mouth and rested his head on Emma’s shoulder. “My dad and I have gone a few times since I’ve been home,” he chimed in. “Talking about stuff has neverbeen our strong suit, and… I don’t know. Even a decade later, it helped.”
Haddie sighed and glanced down at her own untouched pretzel growing cold in her lap.
“Running is my therapy,” she assured them both, yet the slight waver in her voice made her wonder if maybe it might not be such a bad idea to talk to other people going through something similar.
Emma picked up Haddie’s giant pretzel and held it in front of her mouth.
Haddie laughed, sank her teeth into it, and tore off a piece that was almost too big to fit in her mouth.
“Then go for a run tomorrow,” Emma told her. “And if you happen to pass the town hall and want to venture inside, I won’t stop you.”
***
