“Seriously, all you have to do is get the ring and then take it home,” she adds quickly.
“You won’t stop until I say yes, will you? Even though I embarrassed myself the last time we were there.”
“You did, and itwashilarious,” she cuts in. “But all you need to do tomorrow is go by, ask Vivian or her grandmother for the ring, which will most likely be in a box, and then go home with it. Don’t touch it, try it on, or even look at it.”
I shake my head again. “I really can’t.”
“Please, Ty?”
I tap my fingers against the steering wheel. She’s not asking me to rob a bank, just to go back to Vivian’s store and…what? Not embarrass myself? Not think about her in a towel holding a pizza?
“Tomorrow,” I say. “I usually—” I stop, already running through it. Tuesdays are set. Gym. Grocery store. Meal prep. Go over old footage from last season prepping for the new one. Same order. Same timing.
It’smynormal. My thing. Routine.
Emma coughs on the other end of the line, clearly unaware of my existential breakdown.
“Yeah?” she prompts. “Ty?”
I hesitate as Dr. Hale’s voice slides in, calm and steady. “Maybe you let one thing this week be unmapped.”
I exhale. I’d like to scream right now, like Hozier-yell, but I also don’t want to scare my sister.
“Fine,” I say. “I’ll do it.”
“You don’t mind?”
“No.”
“Wow,” she says. “That was both harder than I thought but also took less time than expected. I usually have to twist your arm a little more or offer up some kind of prize like coffee or lunch.”
“Don’t get used to it, and also yes to lunch as my ‘prize,’ like you say.”
“Whatever you want,” she says quickly. “Thank you.”
“Of course.”
“So,” she says, tone changing to sister-mode. “How’s your therapist?”
I glance at the road, jaw tightening a fraction. My brain may be scattered, but hers has always been like a vice. Always holding on to information even when I couldn’t, or didn’t, want to.
“Fine.”
She sighs. “Good fine or you’re saying fine so I don’t ask more questions fine?”
“Good fine.”
“Alright,” she adds lightly. The other awesome-sisterly thing about Emma? She also knows when to back off. “Go be a hockey player.”
“Working on it.”
The call disconnects and my car settles back into quiet as I move through empty side streets to get to the arena before noon.
Tomorrow. I am going to the jewelry store to see Vivian. I exhale slowly, tapping my thumb against the steering wheel.
“Unmapped,” I mutter, as the question hits before I can stop it.
There’s a second where I ask myself if I’m doing this for Emma? Or…Nope. I grip the wheel a little tighter, but Vivian’s face slips in anyway. The way her mouth curves when she’s about to say something she probably shouldn’t. The way her eyes lock in on an object, or person, when she’s focused, like everything else drops away and you’re the only thing in front of her.
