Rush: The Season (Austin Arrows Book 1)(29)

I’ve thought about this for so long I don’t even know what happens next. I’m just excited and anxious. I wish I could make this a surprise for my mom. I think it will make her happy. Then again, she looked happy today when she was talking to Kingston. I don’t know that I’ve ever seen her with a smile that big. The way they were looking at each other… I’ve never seen that, either.

Okay, maybe that isn’t totally true. I’ve seen Kingston look at my mom like that. Like he likes her but doesn’t know how to talk to her. It’s the same way Gabby looks at Bobby Anderson. I know she hasn’t talked to him yet, even though she has liked him since the fourth grade.

Setting my laptop on my bed beside me, I lean back and stare up at the stars on the ceiling. I wonder if my mom likes Kingston like that. They’ve never said they do, but today seemed different. I think they were flirting, which would be really cool. I like Kingston. He’s great. Ever since I was little, he’s been taking me to do things. Most of the time we go with Uncle Optimus; sometimes Mom goes, too. When he goes to the children’s hospital, he lets me come with him, and I love playing with those kids, especially the little ones.

I glance over at my computer screen, a million new questions flooding through my head.

What if I don’t hear from my dad?

What if he never sees my Facebook post?

What if he doesn’t remember my mom?

If my dad does show up, will I not be allowed to hang out with Kingston anymore?

And what if my mom does like Kingston? Will she not let my dad be my dad?

My phone vibrates, and I lean over to read the screen because it’s still charging.

Gabby: I saw your post! I created a fake account, too. It’s got ninety-seven comments already. That’s so cool. I can’t wait for your dad to message you.

Bianca: Did you see it has sixteen shares?

For some reason, I didn’t think people would share it. I only have a few friends on there, people I don’t even know but requested to be friends with. That way, if my mom or Uncle Optimus do run across the account, they won’t immediately think it’s me.

Then again, with my post, they’ll know.

Gabby: Twenty now. B, this is gonna go viral. That’s gonna be so freaking great.

Viral?

Oh, crap. I didn’t think about that.

I don’t text back immediately, because for the first time since I came up with this plan, I have a strange feeling in my tummy. I’m no longer as excited as I was and I don’t know why that is.





10

Kingston

Wednesday, October 12th

I spent the rest of Tuesday afternoon focused on getting in some practice time. Then today was all about weights, more drills, and another scrimmage. Thanks to all the ice time, the day flew by in a blur, but that isn’t unusual for me. After I finished practice, I talked to a few of the guys, made tentative plans to meet up at the Penalty Box tonight, then showered and got dressed.

Now, I’m headed over to the children’s hospital as I do every Wednesday when I’m in town. I actually look forward to it. Not only does it allow me to take a break from normal life but I get to hang with the little ones, and though it isn’t easy to see some of those faces week after week, some of them in visible pain, others simply not getting better, I make a point to show up. When I started doing this years ago, it was for them, but over time it has started being for me, as well.

Every now and then, I get Bianca to go with me. I think she enjoys it as much as I do, which is something I admire in that kid. She’s got such a big heart.

“Hey, Kingston,” one of the nurses greets with a smile on her face.

“Nat,” I acknowledge, nodding toward the common room where the kids gather when the players stop by. “They in there?”

“Most of them.” Her smile dims a little. “Terrence is in his room. Not a good day for him.”

I hate hearing that. “Mind if I stop by when I’m done here?”

Nat’s smile returns. “I’m sure he’d be thrilled to see you.”

On my way in, I remembered to grab one of my spare jerseys, knowing the kids prefer to see me looking like a hockey player—or so they so kindly informed me once when I hadn’t worn my jersey. According to one little girl who I met years ago, the jersey is sort of like a cape is to a superhero. Makes sense. Not that I think of myself as a superhero.

The thought makes me smile as I step into the open room. There are a few kids scattered about—a couple are playing video games on a couch in the corner, two at a small table coloring, and another little boy—William—pushing cars on a huge mat on the floor. There are twice as many adults sitting with the kids, smiling and chatting with them.

Although it could easily be a day care center where these children come to play, the fact that there are IV poles and a few other medical devices proves that it is, in fact, very different. These kids are here because they are sick—some of them terminally ill, and others have hope of getting better one day. I try my best not to see the illness, because it hits me in the heart every time.

“What’s up, Willy?” I say as I near the little boy closest to me.

His eyes lift to mine and a smile instantly forms on his face. That right there is the reason I come. To see those smiles.

“Kingston! You’re here! Wanna play cars?”