Page 123 of End Game

“Yeah?”

“Don’t feel like you have to rush into anything because of me.”

“What do you mean?”

“I don’t want you to do something you’re not ready for, because you think our time is running out.”

“Daddy…”

“I’m going to die,” he says firmly, though his voice is shaking. “I’m going to die soon. Don’t get engaged, don’t get married, don’t have babies just because you think that will make me happy. You deserve to have your own timeline.”

“I’m not ready for… for marriage and babies and…” I wave my hand in the air to encompass everything else.

When I went to Barrett’s house, for half a minute, he thought I was pregnant. He offered to marry me right off the bat. He had no qualms about that, even before I knew how he felt about me. Now…

“I know. But don’t rush through your life in order to get to the good parts. You’re in the good parts now, baby girl,” he says. “Everything will happen in its own time. If Barrett isn’t the one, okay, you’ll find the right one. Don’t settle for someone or something you’re not ready for.”

“I’m not. I won’t.”

“Okay, good.” He reaches over and squeezes my hand. “You deserve the sun and moon and the stars, Diana. I can’t give them to you. But I hope one day you find someone that can. If Barrett is that guy, if he’s not… I think you owe it to yourself to give him a chance.”

I swallow. “I’m going to,” I decide. “I don’t know how, but I’m going to.”

It’s snowing, a light dusting that turns the whole world murky grey. In the sanctity of Athlete’s Village, untouched by cars, the roads are a pristine white. I sit outside of Barrett’s house in my clearance rack boots and hand-me-down coat and wait. And wait. And wait.

My phone is in my pocket. I’m sure I could solve this with a text message or a phone call. That feels like cheating. I could hurry this along by clearly communicating that I want to talk to him. I’m scared. I’m shaking in my boots, and it has nothing to do with the cold weather whipping through me. I don’t want everything to change.

Everything has already changed.

There are people walking through Athlete’s Village, students coming home from weekends away or traveling for games. Every time I see someone on the horizon, I immediately think it’s him. It’s never him.

Tucker, Miles, and Amir make their way down the street. They look at me oddly as they climb the porch stairs.

“He’s not here,” Tuck says.

“I know.”

“He won’t be here for awhile. He went to his parents for dinner.”

Oh. I didn’t know that.

Tucker’s smile is pitying. “Does he know you’re waiting for him?”

“Nope.”

I don’t want them to tell him I’m here, but I can’t stop them if they wanted to reach out to their roommate and tell him.

Miles sighs. “He misses you.”

Offering them a tight smile, I huddle in my coat. “I miss him, too.”

“Come inside,” Amir says gently. “You can wait for him inside as easily as out here.”

It feels wrong. It feels like cheating. But I follow them inside the house.

Automatically I trudge up the stairs to Barrett’s room. Depositing my weekend bag at the side of the bed, I toe off my shoes and shed my coat. His room is as neat as a pin, like it always is. He needs order and organization in the same way other people need air, and I… am not that way. I’m messy. Everything about me and my life is messy. My feelings are messy.

Does he really want a part of this?