Total pages in book: 103
Estimated words: 96850 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 484(@200wpm)___ 387(@250wpm)___ 323(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 96850 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 484(@200wpm)___ 387(@250wpm)___ 323(@300wpm)
She stopped beside Madden, examining his profile. “You haven’t been yourself.”
He closed his eyes. “I’m sorry.”
“You . . . you don’t have to apologize,” she choked out on a humorous laugh. “Let’s just figure out what’s wrong. What are your symptoms?”
“Besides feeling like absolute shite?”
“Be more specific than shite.”
A beat passed. “They’re going to be wondering why you’re in here.”
Normally, Eve would care about that. If Skylar clocked her spending too much time with Madden and how that would make her best friend feel. That consideration rode on her back like a clinging monkey. But not right now. Everything got shuffled to the wayside when his labored breathing started. They were only standing still.
“Tell me, Mad.”
He closed his eyes. “Pain. A lot of pain in my back and sides. These massive headaches. Sometimes I can’t catch my breath. Like now.”
Eve had never felt more fifteen in her life.
More wistful for adulthood. Knowledge.
This is serious, whispered a voice in the back of her head. This is bad.
“We have to go to a doctor.”
Madden had already begun shaking his head. “No. I’m just training too hard.”
“That’s not what it is,” Eve said, adamantly.
He strove for a jovial tone and didn’t pull it off. “Are you worried I’m not going to be able to protect you as well?”
“No, I’d never worry about that.”
“I do.” His gaze slowly found hers. “I worry if I go to the doctor and find out something is wrong, I won’t be there to look after you, love.”
That kicked the breath clean out of her lungs. “Is that why you haven’t gone?”
He said nothing, confirming her suspicion.
Denial collided with urgency so quickly, she got dizzy. Didn’t know which to deal with first. “We have to go. We have to tell someone.”
“No.”
Eve played the only card she could think of. The one that was right there, staring her in the face. Whatever it took to get him help now. Immediately. “If you get worse or something happens to you, who will protect me then? Who will protect me without making me feel weak and pathetic, Madden, because you’re the only one who can pull it off . . .”
He was pulling her into a tight hug, then cutting her off. Kissing the crown of her head. And she almost wheezed over the contact, the warmth and safety of Madden Donahue. A good man, already at seventeen. An honest man.
But who was protecting him?
“Everything okay?” Skylar called from the kitchen, followed by the sound of the refrigerator opening. Though they were still out of sight, Madden reluctantly dropped his embrace and stepped back, leaning against the wall once more, obviously out of necessity. “Oh, there’s orange juice!”
Eve fought for composure, reached down deep for bravery, and called, “Skylar, can you go get Elton, please? Tell him to come here.”
A brief pause. “Is everything okay?”
Madden didn’t even try to prevent her from revealing his struggle at that point. That’s how she knew they’d reached a critical stage. Someone needed to act.
“Madden needs help,” Eve called back, barely keeping the hitch out of her voice.
A single beat passed, then Skylar’s footsteps echoed on her way into the backyard, two sets approaching a moment later.
The four of them drove to the hospital in Elton’s truck, Madden beside Eve in the rear cab, their hands clasped tightly together out of sight. A gesture of comfort. Friendship. Solidarity.
If them holding hands was anything more, now was not the time to examine it.
But as they pulled up to the emergency room and Eve gave his hand a final squeeze, before exiting the truck and running ahead to explain the situation to reception, she vowed there would be time. If something was seriously wrong with Madden, she’d do whatever it took to be the reliable safety net he’d always been for her, without her having to ask.
No matter what it took.
Chapter Fourteen
Present Day
Madden watched the sun disappear behind the wall of the stadium, but it blinked back into his eyes as soon as he stood to throw the latest strike back to the pitcher. The game had gone to extra innings and his thighs were beginning to ache from being in the crouched position so long, but he performed the necessary mental math, nonetheless, ordering himself to stay sharp.
The next batter strutted up to the plate while taking practice swings, “Fein” by Travis Scott blasting from all ends of the stadium. So far this season, at least one player on every team had this as their walk-up music, but Madden could admit, it was effective. The crowd was on their feet behind him. Madden blocked out the stomps and raised voices, however, and recalled the batter’s style, along with the pitches that were landing tonight.
Answer: not many.
The pitcher Ruiz’s moment in the spotlight was fading, his career on a downswing.