“That’s medically impossible.”
“I’m recovering from surgery,” I remind her.“I have enhanced emotional perception now.”
She almost smiles. But the nerves are still there. So are mine.
Telling your best friend you’re dating his sister shouldn’t feel like walking into a playoff game with a broken shoulder and no backup plan. Yet, somehow that’s exactly what this feels like, like there’s no version of this conversation where I don’t lose something important if I handle it wrong.
I’ve known Zane most of my life. Long enough that I can predict the way he skates before he moves. Long enough that I know exactly what he’s going to say when a ref makes a bad call. Long enough that I know he trusts me. Or at least he did.
Which means this conversation matters more than anything else I’ve had to do in a long time.
“Maybe we should just tell him immediately,” Lisa says quietly, like she’s been holding that thought for a while and finally decided it needed to exist out loud.
“That’s the plan,” I say.
“No buildup? No dramatic speech? No pretending we’re talking about something else first?” she asks.
“I just had surgery,” I remind her.“I’m not doing a dramatic speech.”
“That’s fair.”
There’s a soft knock at the door before either of us can say anything else, and the second it opens, Gwen steps into the room first. It’s like she already knows she’s walking into the middle of something important and intends to make it easier just by being there.
“Hey,” she says gently.
Lisa visibly relaxes when she sees her.
“Hey,” she answers.
Gwen’s eyes flick briefly between us. Then down to where Lisa’s hand is resting near mine. Then back up again. She doesn’t say anything about it. She doesn’t need to.
“How are you feeling?” she asks me.
“Like I lost a fight with a truck,” I tell her honestly.
“That sounds accurate,” she says.
Lisa rolls her eyes.
“He’s being dramatic.”
“I’m being brave,” I correct
“You’re being annoying.”
“That too.”
Gwen smiles slightly but doesn’t sit down right away, like she’s waiting for someone else to arrive before she decides where she belongs in the room.
Which is exactly when the door opens again. And Zane walks in. He looks tired.
Not exhausted exactly, but quieter than usual, like the last twenty-four hours have been sitting on his shoulders in a way he hasn’t figured out how to shake off yet. The moment his eyes land on me, he exhales slowly like he didn’t realize he’d been holding his breath until now.
“Man,” he says, stepping closer to the bed.“You look terrible.”
“You should see the other guy,” I answer automatically.
“I did,” he replies.“Still not impressed.”
