Like I’d died and gone to heaven.
Like I was gonna be okay, too.
But I know better. And now she does, too.
“Annabel, you made me feel everything, which is exactly why it can’t happen again. I could never keep things casual with you. You mean too damn much to me. You and I, we get along great. I know I’m gonna fall for you, and then I’m gonna want you to fall for me, and then…then I’ll want your forever. And maybe you’ll end up wantin’ mine, too.”
“Maybe,” she says. “What’s so wrong with that?”
“Watching Mama go through what she did with Daddy, trust me when I say that’s not a forever you’re gonna want. I’m already living on borrowed time here. Please, Bel. Please make this easy on me.” I meet her eyes. “I told you I need you. Now more than ever.”
“Beau.” Her voice cracks. “I hate this. For you. I hate that this is happening to you.”
“Welp.” I draw a sharp breath through my nose. “It is what it is. Now you know.”
She shakes her head. “Your daddy didn’t know what was happening until it was too late. You know better, Beau. You’re doing a bunch of things he never did to fight what’s going on inside your head. I imagine there have been a lot of advancements in treatment since then.” This time, she takes my hand, placing it between hers. “Your story will have a much different ending than his.”
“Doesn’t change the fact that what happened to him is happening to me, Bel.”
“But you can change the outcome. C’mon. You’re smarter than this. You said yourself that you had probable CTE.”
“Yeah. Because right now, they can only confirm it after you’re dead.”
She looks at me, breathless silence blooming between us. “I’m telling you not to count yourself out so soon. You have time. Medicine, technology—who knows what they’ll come up with? You’re too young to give up like this.”
I scoff. “Most days, I feel old. Really, really old.”
“But you’re not. We’re the same age, and I just had a baby, for Christ’s sake. Life may feel like it’s over for both of us right now, but after last night, I know it’s not. It’s not too late for you, and it’s not too late for us.”
“Annabel.” I meet her eyes. “You gotta let this go, honey. I’m not changing my mind.”
Her nostrils flare as she takes a breath. She looks down and picks at the fringe on the blanket tossed over the back of her chair, disappointment written all over her face.
I silently curse God, myself, the choices I made. What if I’d chosen baseball instead of football? What if I’d stopped playing after that first concussion? The seventh?
I gotta forgive myself. I didn’t know any better. No one really did back then.
Still, the anger I feel is real and raw. Because now the loss is even more profound: nothing more than friendship with the most important woman in my life. Permanently.
Fuck.
“Okay,” she says at last, reaching for her water. “If that’s what you want, then I’m not gonna push it. I understand. What you’re going through…I can’t imagine. I’m happy to be here as your friend. I’ll always be here, all right? I promise you that.”
“Thank you.” My throat is feeling tight again. “The timing just wasn’t ever right for us. Maybe we should take that as a sign we aren’t meant to be anything more than friends.”
“I don’t buy it. Things are different now. In a good way.” Her expression gets wistful. “But, as you said, it is what it is. If you want me to go—leave the mountain—I’d be happy—”
“Fuck no. Absolutely not. Stay as long as you like. You being here is help enough. Sometimes I think…I mean, what if it’s our last time together like this? Before I really start to show signs, and you start to get busy with Maisie and work—”
“Stop. We’ll never be too busy for you.”
I swallow. “I don’t want to ruin what time we have left, Bel. If we try for more, and it blows up—” I shake my head. “I’m not willing to risk it. I love havin’ you around. None of this changes that, all right?”
She smiles at me, her dimple on full display. “All right.”
But I don’t feel all right as I wrap my arms around Bel when it’s time for her to go. Regret sits like a stone inside my chest.
Sending her off with a half-hearted hug—sending her off at all—feels wrong.
I know I’m doing the right thing.
I just wish it didn’t feel so goddamn awful.
Chapter Twelve
Annabel
I wheel the stroller into the restaurant at exactly 5:01 PM.
The place is empty. Maisie is quietly snoozing, pacifier hanging out of her open mouth.
I pray she stays that way. Long gone are the days of my leisurely eight PM dinners. Now it’s pure survival mode, shoving food in my face whenever I have a second. In my new life as a mom, that’s around the time of Blue-Hair specials. The later it gets, the crankier my baby is. So what used to be the start of cocktail hour has turned into five o’clock dinner, drink, and dash.