He was alone.
And hungover or not, he’d still come to my meet. Or so I hoped.
He’s a good guy at heart.
I listened to him shuffle to bed, then crept out of my room. As usual, Connor had left his keys, phone and wallet on the table by the front door.
I opened his phone and searched for a message from Autumn. Nothing. I did some math: if she arrived at Omaha at 1 a.m., she still had an hour drive to Lincoln, putting her at the hospital around two. Which meant she could be texting Connor any minute now.
I stretched out on the couch with Connor’s phone on my chest. Sleep pulled at me but my brain wouldn’t quit.
If it’s his time, at least let her say goodbye. Let her have that with him, instead of nothing. Instead of desertion.
I dozed again and dreamt of the start of the race. I took my mark and the track vibrated beneath my fingers. I jerked awake. Connor’s phone vibrated a text. Heart pounding, I read the message.
Hey. It’s late, I hope this doesn’t wake you. I’m at the hospital. He’s made it through surgery. Quad bypass. He’s in ICU now, stable, and we’re waiting to get the okay to see him.
Relief gusted out of me. The rolling dots told me she was writing another text, but my thumbs flew to reply first: So fucking glad.
The rolling dots of her reply stopped. A pause. Then: OMG, you’re awake.
If you don’t sleep, I don’t sleep.
I’m crying (again.) You got me here. I don’t know how to thank you.
You don’t have to, I typed. I’m just happy you made it.
Me too. It’s a gift, beyond money, to be here right now.
My lack of sleep must’ve been catching up with me since my eyes stung.
Tell Weston good luck on his track meet, she wrote. And thank him for me too, okay?
I will. Good night, Autumn.
Good night, Connor. <3
I stared at the words, the name and the heart a long time. Then I got up and put Connor’s phone back on the table.
Her dad made it, I thought as I flopped face first onto my pillow in my bed.
I was asleep instantly.
Weston
My alarm went off at six, and I felt as hungover as Connor probably was. I showered and dressed, then grabbed an energy bar and some water. I was tired as hell and couldn’t give two shits about the meet.
“Suck it up, Turner,” I muttered. “Your fans are waiting. All one of them.”
But Connor was still sleeping. He wouldn’t show up at the meet until one minute before the first race.
I paused at the door, wondering if Connor would show today, or if he were still pissed enough that I refused to help him with Autumn.
I glanced at his phone on the front table.
I sure as shit helped you out this morning.
An ironic sense of calm came over me. Autumn’s happiness was worth sacrificing my own. Even if it meant my words in Connor’s mouth. My thoughts on the page with his signature at the bottom. Answering Autumn’s texts made him look good, but it made me feel better as well. To be there for her.