Maybe true love will overcome, like in fairy tales.
THIRTY-FOUR
NOELLE
Greyson shows up with a toolbox and the kind of energy that says he’s here to fix things.
And he is, but he’s also here to check on me. He’s the kind of brother a girl is happy to have. Matt has that kind of relationship with his sister, Shelley. I wish she lived here. We’ve done video calls with her and she seems fun. She’s younger than Matt but works a corporate job and says she’ll give it all up when the baby comes so she can babysit.
“Where’s the crib?” he asks, already scanning the half-assembled chaos that has become Matt’s house. Our house. I don’t think I’m the one nesting; Matt is. He wants everything put together and organized now.
“In the nursery,” Matt says, coming out of the hall with a piece of wood under his arm. “The instructions are lying.”
Greyson snorts. “They always do.”
I hover in the doorway, watching them work—two men who look like they’ve known each other their whole lives, like brothers, trading barbs and bolts with the easy rhythm of people who speak the same language.
“Hey,” Greyson says suddenly, not looking up. “You remember that third-and-eight play you ran with Logan Warren when you were with the Louisville Heavyweights?”
Matt’s hands pause for just a beat.
“The… uh,” he starts, his brow furrowing. “We ran an… inside slant?”
Greyson lifts his head slowly. “No. The one in the championship game. You designed it. It was a wheel route. I thought we should put it in for the first game of the season.”
Matt laughs it off. “Must’ve blocked it out. That was a blur.”
Greyson doesn’t laugh.
A few minutes later, he wanders over to me on the excuse of grabbing a drink.
“Is his memory off?” he asks quietly while retrieving water from the fridge.
My stomach tightens.
“I don’t know,” I say, but the lie tastes thin.
Greyson studies me. “Because it’s not like him to forget something that important. They won the fucking championship on that play.”
Worry lines stretch across Greyson’s forehead, and I know he wouldn’t pull me aside unless he was scared too. He says, “Let’s go back, but sis, you need to find out what’s really going on.”
I look back at Matt. At the way his shoulders slump between movements. At how his skin looks almost gray, even under the warm light.
Severe fatigue.
Loss of appetite.
Brain fog.
Itching.
The words line up in my mind like a verdict. All the things I’ve noticed but thought he would tell me if something was wrong. I know I need to confront him. He won’t let me have a baby on my own, and I’m not about to let him shoulder his illness on his own either.
When the crib is finally finished, Greyson packs up, pretending nothing is wrong. The moment the door closes, the air shifts. “Love ya,” he says and kisses me. “See ya at the stadium tomorrow.”
“Sure thing. Thanks for your help. The baby has a place to sleep now.”
I add, trying to keep it light, “And a place for clothes. Birdie and Sutton have already been buying unisex outfits.”
