Total pages in book: 84
Estimated words: 80199 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 401(@200wpm)___ 321(@250wpm)___ 267(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 80199 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 401(@200wpm)___ 321(@250wpm)___ 267(@300wpm)
“It definitely makes sense,” I piped in. Our anxious habits read differently, but I was surprised I hadn’t guessed sooner, given the research I’d done on my own issues. Maybe because our whole lives we’d been waiting for the other shoe to drop, in the form of a relapse. There was little room to worry about much else when it came to our health.
“So what can we do?” Mrs. Albrecht asked.
“There are medications that can help the serotonin levels in your brain, which can have a direct impact. And given Henry’s symptoms and stress level, therapy is recommended.”
Mr. Albrecht winced, but his wife lightly elbowed him. “We’ll get Henry any help he needs.”
“Glad he has a good support system,” the doctor said. “I’ll have the nurse get the discharge papers together, and we’ll include some numbers for available resources.”
When the doctor left, everyone appeared shell-shocked but relieved. Mr. Albrecht seemed the most stunned as he kept looking between me and Henry as if trying to make sense of everything that’d been revealed. There were bound to be plenty more conversations.
“Well, guess I should be heading back to school,” I said reluctantly, and Mom nodded.
“How about we let the boys have a moment alone before we say our goodbyes?” Mom suggested as she moved toward the door. God, I loved her.
Mrs. Albrecht immediately followed, nudging along Mr. Albrecht, who still seemed numb.
Once they filed out of the room, we stared at each other.
I stepped closer and took his hand, feeling relieved that I could finally touch him freely. “You really love me?”
“With my whole heart,” Henry replied, then smirked. “Guess this means you’re stuck with me.”
I laughed and pecked his lips. “Maybe you’re stuck with me too.”
He tangled our fingers together. “I wouldn’t want it any other way.”
We rested our foreheads together and took a moment to just breathe in comfortable silence.
“How do you feel?” I asked.
“Free,” he replied, the emotion clear in his voice. “Like I got a second chance.”
“It still might not be easy. Your teammates, your parents, and others might not always understand. But at least you’ll be living your truth.”
“I know. I think Spencer already suspects, and probably others do too. But I’m not going to hide anymore.”
“And the panic attacks? How does that diagnosis sit with you?”
“I’ll take that over cancer, although both make me feel a loss of control. But at least it’s not a death sentence.”
My mouth felt dry. Thank fuck.
“It does make sense,” he said. “I’d be glad to go to therapy.” He lifted my hand, all five fingers bandaged from my awful night of worrying about him. “Maybe you should too.”
I nodded. “Mom and I already talked about it.”
He sighed. “Can’t wait to get discharged.”
“And then what?”
Henry winked. “We still live our days like they might be our last?”
I arched a brow. “Translation?”
“I get to hold your hand in public and kiss you anytime I want.”
I brushed my lips against his. “Sounds like heaven to me.”
EPILOGUE
Henry
The team had just left the locker room to head to the field for our final home game of the season. Even though our playoff prospects were already sealed due to our amazing record, the buzz of the crowd was electrifying.
So many things in my life had come together since my hospital scare last month. I was out at school, Lark and I were officially dating, and the majority of students and staff were supportive of us—outside of the random dumbass jokes made by Bones or Flash. But this time, I knew they were only busting my balls, so I laughed with them and even made fun of myself sometimes. Flash was more careful with his words, I’d noticed, which was for the best. He had some growing up to do.
My panic attacks had lessened with the start of therapy and anti-anxiety meds. Lark had also begun online sessions, and his fingers were healing. We even did weekly meditation together, which worked so well I told Coach the team should do their own version before games. He still hadn’t taken me up on it, which didn’t surprise me. The guys would probably kill me that I’d even suggested it.
“What are you doing with that?” Spencer asked, pointing to the rolled-up material in my hand.
I winked. “You’ll see.”
Once we got to the field, the players did their own pre-game rituals of stretching, sideline throws, or quietly sitting on the bench to get their heads in the game. Seemed a lot like meditation to me.
I glanced up at the stands to find Lark seated with Justin and Leah a couple of rows behind my parents. Before I chickened out, my legs carried me up the steps two at a time until I got to his row. He just stared at me, stunned, then stood and shuffled closer.
“What are you doing?”