I lift my hand in a thumbs-up, then thumbs-down gesture.
Dad lifts his thumb. “It took just fine. Doctor’s very pleased.”
A sigh of relief gusts out of me, but it’s quickly replaced with worry.
Willa.
Panic hits me. They gave me a sedative, meaning I’ve been out of it longer than I expected. I planned to check in with Willa right after the procedure, to make sure I hadn’t freaked her out.
Pointing to my wrist, where my watch usually is, I look at my Dad.
His brow furrows. “How long have you been out?”
I give him another thumbs-up. Mom’s hand slips soothingly through the back of my hair, avoiding the front of my head which is bandaged.
“Almost twenty-four hours,” Dad says.
I slam my hand on the mattress. Shit. Fuck. Fuckety shit. Willa’s going to take this all wrong, I know it already. She woke up yesterday morning, probably wondering if what we did was some kind of weird post-game delusion, then when she decided it wasn’t, she had to expect I’d reach out. It’s a fair assumption. She knows me. Typically, I would.
And I’ve been radio silent for a day.
Phone, I mouth, miming the action, too.
“Easy, Ryder.” Dad pats my hand again. “You need rest, still.”
I shake my head and immediately regret it, lifting my hands to touch the swelling behind my ears.
Please, I mouth, then sign.
Mom caves, because she’s got a soft spot for me. “Alex, let him have his phone. It’s how he talks. You’re silencing him.”
I sigh in relief as Dad grumbles and unearths my phone from his pocket. Spinning it my way, I squint. Not a single message from Willa. I don’t know whether to be disappointed or relieved.
“Sötnos?” Sweetheart, Mom asks. “Everything all right?”
I type, Can I go home now? My place.
Mom frowns. “I wanted you to come to our home so I can take care of you.”
“It’s not the worst idea to let him rest at his apartment for a few days, Elin. Beckett said he’d be there to keep an eye on him, and we’re bringing Joy to the house tomorrow. It’ll be noisy and a little chaotic while we get everything set up.”
A pained noise catches in my throat and earns my parents’ attention.
What? I mouth.
Dad scrapes a chair toward my hospital bed and sits. Mom’s fingers stay in my hair. She’s quieter, like me, but her touch says plenty. I’m here. You’re okay.
“Joy’s from my military days. You remember what I’ve said about my last mission when the injury to my leg happened?” I glance down at Dad’s thigh. When he stands, his titanium prosthesis is less noticeable beneath his sharp khakis, but sitting, the point at which leg transitions from muscle to metal is obvious beneath the fabric.
I give him a thumbs-up. Nodding is out of the question. My head hurts too much.
“She’s the one who saved me from bleeding out.”
Holy. Shit. Willa’s mom saved my dad’s life.
“Joy and I bumped into each other at a veterans function five years ago. We caught up and promised to stay in touch. Mom and I met her a few times to share a meal, but other than that I didn’t hear much from Joy. Not until she ended up right in my oncology wing. After kicking breast cancer’s ass, she was diagnosed with acute myeloid leukemia. It happens sometimes after treatment, unfortunately, which is why it’s dubbed therapy-related leukemia.”
Jesus. My sadness for this woman and for Willa, whose mom has been so sick, wells inside me.
“Oh, Ryder…” Mom wipes my eyes and strokes my cheek. “Such a tender heart. You’ve always been that way. Papa’s taking care of her, don’t you worry.” Her sympathetic glance morphs into a wry smile as she fusses with my beard. I’m sure it looks like hell at the moment, like the rest of me. She gives my facial hair a playful tug. “You wouldn’t know you’re such a sweetheart. This beard, sötnos, is quite the deterrent.”
I stick my tongue out at her and it makes her laugh. Looking at Dad, I try to show him I’m still following.
“So,” he continues, “I felt…I feel deep gratitude to Joy. She saved my life.” My parents’ eyes meet across the bed. “She’s dying, Ryder. Her medical expenses are extensive and she sublet her apartment to conserve costs and spare her daughter debt once she passes. I want her last days to be spent in the comfort and peacefulness of a home. I’ll be overseeing her care. We have a hospice nurse hired, and we set up the guest room where Nana stayed. It’s the right thing to do.”
I pull up my phone, my hands shaking a bit. Of course. This is just complicated.
My dad frowns. “How?”
Willa, I type.
Dad scrunches his nose. “What about her daughter?” His eyes widen. “Wait, how do you know her name?
“That’s Ryder’s friend,” Mama says, patting my hand. “Isn’t it?”
Dad’s stunned. “You’re friends with her, Ryder?”
“Rather more than friends, from what Aiden says.” Mom lifts her eyebrows. I reach up and tug a strand of her shoulder-length blonde hair, making her yelp and swat my hand. “Ryder Stellan, behave yourself.”
I frown, typing, Aiden’s full of shit, whatever he told you. The only truth is that he’s had his hand in trying to set us up all semester. We’re just frenemies.
Mom squints at my phone. “Frenemies.” She looks to Dad, the person she relies on when she encounters a limitation in her understanding of English. That’s pretty rare after decades living in the States, but it happens. “What does that mean?”
Dad stares at me for a long minute, a slow grin warming his face. “Frenemies are people who spend plenty of time together but pass most of it bickering. If they didn’t quarrel so much, people would see them as close friends, maybe even something more…”
Dad chuckles. “I should have known. Joy was always a firecracker. Of course, her daughter is like her that way, isn’t she?”
Mom leans her elbows on the hospital bed rails, smiling down at me. “She was very spirited during the game we watched. Very intense. I wonder how that works with this quiet, dry-humored son of ours.”
Dad rocks back on his seat. “I do wonder…”
I smack the bed, groping for the button to raise it until I find the right one. My jaw’s clenched, my head’s pounding, and they’re both giving me these infuriating looks of sympathetic amusement.
Please don’t say anything yet to Willa or her mom, I text them. I don’t want to upset Willa. She hasn’t even told me her mom’s sick.
Dad reads my message, then pats my hand. “Ah, that does make it trickier. Perhaps it’s wise to wait until she’s ready for you to know.”
What if she’s never ready? I write. How can I come home and avoid her?
“Well…” Dad sighs and rubs his forehead. “Perhaps the right time will show itself to you. I personally think the sooner you two get honest with each other, the better. After you go home and get some rest of course.”
Mom nods, her eyes narrowed critically at my beard. “And while you’re there, shave, would you?”