I’m still in my kitchen, sipping lukewarm coffee and telling myself I imagined it—that I read too much into it—when my cell rings.
Not a text. Not a ping.
A call.
From Declan.
My heart kicks.
I swipe to answer. “Hey—everything okay?”
His voice is low, but there’s a tightness there. Like he’s holding something in.
“It’s Sophie. I think she just got her period. First one. She woke up freaking out. She keeps asking for her mom and… Vanessa’s not answering. I didn’t know what to do. I figured… maybe you would.”
I’m already grabbing my purse and PT bag.
“I’ll be right there.”
On the way, I stop by a corner store for some essentials.
Declan opens the front door before I can knock.
His hair’s a mess. He’s barefoot. The relief in his eyes when he sees me?
It nearly floors me.
“Thanks for coming,” he says, stepping aside. “She’s upstairs in her room.”
“It’s no problem,” I murmur.
He nods and leads me up the stairs. There’s a framed team photo at the landing, a photo of Sophie in a glittery frame on the wall, and the faintest trace of vanilla and peppermint in the air.
He gestures toward the second door. “She’s in there.”
I knock softly, then crack the door open. “Hey, Sophie. It’s me.”
She’s curled sideways on the bed in a hoodie and pajama shorts, hugging a pillow to her stomach, cheeks blotchy and eyes puffy.
“It really hurts,” she whispers. “And I feel gross.”
“I know what to do, kind of,” she mumbles into the pillow. “They talked about it in health class, and some of my friends already got theirs. But when it actually happened, I just… freaked out.”
I nod. “That’s normal. Knowing it in your head and going through it for real are two totally different things.”
I set my bag on the desk and move closer, keeping my voice light. “Well, good news. I come bearing supplies.”
From the bag, I pull out a full pack of pads, two kinds of herbal tea, a heat pack, a bar of chocolate, and a travel bottle of mild pain reliever.
Her eyes go round. “Wait—you brought all that for me?”
“It should make today a whole lot easier, believe me.”
I sit on the edge of the bed and let her stay curled up while I talk her through what’s happening—what the cramps mean, how long they might last, how to track her cycle on a free app I recommend.
Sophie listens without interrupting, face half-buried in the pillow. The longer we talk, the more the tension eases from her shoulders.
The whole time, I keep my tone easy, like this is no big deal. Because it isn’t—not really.
