International Player(9)
“Don’t joke about shit like that around Abi. She’ll have you doing extreme sports to raise money for charity before you finish your sentence.”
I paused before pressing my thumbprint into the ID panel in the lift and hitting P. “I might not mind that. What kind of extreme sports? I mean, I get that you might not want to learn to fly, but what about abseiling down one of London’s iconic buildings—Tower Bridge, the Shard, or the Gherkin, or somewhere? Wouldn’t require much training, and it’s for charity, no less. Why don’t we both do it?”
Rob groaned. “I wish I’d never mentioned it. I can’t wait for you to get a job so you’ll stop this extreme-sport shit.”
“It’s not about the sport or having too much time on my hands. I just want to make sure I’m living life—squeezing out every last drop.”
“I’m happy living my life on the ground.”
“Yeah. I prefer the penthouse,” I said, grinning as the lift doors slid open directly into my brand-new home. But in that way, I envied Rob. He was content with what he had. He wasn’t always grasping for more, better, different.
I was used to having a thousand goals and going at them full throttle before moving on to the next one. It didn’t matter if it was walking, exams, floating a business on the stock market—what drove me was a clear vision of what I wanted and a determination to succeed. But I was out of big ideas. I’d achieved the career goals I’d set for myself. Done everything I’d set out to do. But I wasn’t content to sit back and enjoy the fruits of my labor. The view from the penthouse was nice, but it wasn’t enough. I just wasn’t sure what was next.
Five
Noah
I couldn’t believe I was back here. If I’d known Abigail wanted to meet at the hospital where I’d formed so many unhappy memories, I wouldn’t have come. I’d not been back since the day I was discharged. By then I’d been an outpatient for months, but it still dominated my life. I’d been so relieved when I’d left for the very last time.
I took a deep breath and opened the car door.
“I’m only going to say it once,” Abigail said as she leaned against her car parked next to mine. “So this is your only chance to back out—just because we’re friends, you shouldn’t feel obligated to do this.” Her hands on her hips, Abigail pinned me with her icy stare.
“I know. I don’t feel obligated. I want to do the abseil.”
When I’d called Abigail about doing an abseil—rappelling down a building—to help raise funds, she’d suggested I meet her at one of the causes they were supporting this year. She’d said she’d text me the details, which she’d only done last minute, giving me no chance to back out. What were the odds of her bringing me face-to-face with my past?
“I’m not trying to pressure you by bringing you to the hospital.”
“I offered, Abi. Now are we going in or what?” It wasn’t pressure I felt. It was dread. But I wasn’t about to run and hide from anything. It wasn’t who I was.
The automatic doors slid open and Truly walked out. Oblivious to everything around her, she had her head down and plowed straight into Abi and me.
“Shit,” Truly said as she stepped back, swaying on her nonexistent heels, her amber eyes widening as she took us both in.
“How are you not dead?” Abigail asked. “What if you had walked into oncoming traffic?”
“How? There’s no road here,” Truly replied, pushing the sleeves of her oversized navy jumper back so they weren’t hanging over the ends of her fingers.
Truly wasn’t irrationally oblivious. She just blocked out stuff that didn’t matter and was single-minded about things that did.
“What are you doing here, anyway?” Abigail asked.
“Just looking over their fundraising plan.” She shook her head. “It’s daunting. And heartbreaking. Why? What are you doing here?” Truly glanced between me and her sister.
“You better not have committed any solid figures,” Abigail said.
“How could you suggest that?” Truly tilted her head as if genuinely hurt at the suggestion. “I’d never want to get these guys’ hopes up. They have such a huge mountain to climb.”
“I just don’t want to let them down,” Abi said, her tone flattening.
“Neither do I. But, honestly, I didn’t even see Betty. I got some figures from Alistair and poked my head into the activity room. That’s it.”
“Sorry. I’m just on edge. Hormones, I guess.” Abigail patted Truly’s arm in apology. “You know you have a pencil holding your hair up, right?”
Truly glanced at me, then shrugged. “It’s useful. Anyway, I need to get back to the office.” She pulled out a huge set of keys from her pocket and moved past us toward the car park.
Abi and I stepped through the sliding doors and the familiar smell of the rehab room hit me as if I’d last been down this corridor last week, not nearly fourteen years ago. Nausea churned in my stomach. I turned right, following Abigail but knowing the way as we walked beneath a sign for the Children’s Spinal Injuries Unit. I’d vowed never to come back. And I wasn’t prepared now. I’d worked hard while I was here to walk again and even harder when I’d left to forget this place. The memories I made here I didn’t want to relive.