Shea
Hunter and I enter the hospital. A rush of warm air greets us, which eases the chill radiating down my spine. We stomp our feet against the entrance mat, loosening any remnants of snow.
"Ava said they're in the ER," Hunter says.
I run a hand through my hair, shaking away any melting snowflakes. "Will we be able to get in?"
Hunter unzips his winter jacket and removes it, throwing it over his shoulder. I follow his actions. The air is hot and stuffy in here, making me sweat.
"We should," he replies. "Ava will let the staff know."
Stopping, Hunter turns to me and rests a hand on my shoulder. He gives it a squeeze. "Take a deep breath, Smith. Brenna's okay. Ava told us she's already awake. They're waiting for test results to come back regarding a possible concussion. They've stitched her up. But she's okay. That's all that matters."
I expel a deep breath, refusing to make eye contact with Tucker. Although I didn't like Tucker at the beginning, he's grown on me. I can call him a good friend now.
Even if we tell each other to fuck off a lot.
We both know it's meant on banter terms.
"You're right," I reply, meeting his gaze. "Cut me some slack for worrying about her."
Grinning, Tucker claps me on the back. "My, how the tables have turned."
"Fuck off," I mutter.
He gives me a shove as we saunter down the hallway, passing the information desk and various rooms. "You fuck off, Smith."
A grin spread across my lips. It matches the one Hunter flashes at me.
"Something's wrong with us," I say.
Hunter shrugs. "Easier to like each other than to hate each other, right?"
He has a point. That's the conclusion Brenna and I came to, too.
However, before I can express my agreement, we arrive at the ER. Through the small window, I can see several hospital beds lining the walls. There are curtains between each bed. Some are open, some are closed.
From here, I can't see Brenna. It means she's behind the curtains or on the far side of the room.
My palms become clammy. I'm hoping Ava doesn't tear a strip off of me. Not that Brenna fainting was my fault. I could've put in better effort to catch her as opposed to her taking us down, though. Then maybe she wouldn't have stitches above her brow.
With a glance over his shoulder, Hunter pushes through the swinging doors. Stepping inside, the smell of antiseptic is ten times more potent. Nurses are scuttling around the area, tending to patients.
Passing by the nurses makes me nervous. If they so much as attempt to kick Tucker and me out, I'll go ballistic. Watching someone faint and not knowing why the fuck it happened is traumatizing. We're lucky my mind didn't go blank as soon as I sat up and saw the blood dribbling down Brenna's face.
Expelling a sigh of frustration, I run a hand through my hair. Hunter nudges me again, as if to say, Calm down.
We're halfway down the ER when a nurse stops us.
"Are you patients here?" the nurse asks.
My gaze flicks down to her name tag. Sydney. I grind my teeth. Not because I hate the name Sydney—I have nothing against it. But because Sydney is in my fucking way.
Tucker jerks his thumb in my direction. "Shea's girlfriend fainted while they were hiking. We're here to meet Ava Harrison and discuss what happened."
"Are you family?"
That question is directed at Tucker.
He chews on his bottom lip. I'm fucked because he called Brenna my girlfriend. He still has the opportunity to lie. Hunter could say he's Brenna's brother. How would they know?
I snort. Tucker lying? Yeah, I'll believe it when pigs start flying.
"No," Hunter sighs. "But Brenna is like a sibling to me. Besides, her mom approved us joining."
Sydney shakes her head of black, curly hair. "Sorry, we'll have to escort you out. Only family members may visit in the ER."
I open my mouth to protest. Tucker squeezes my shoulder. "Ava Harrison is Brenna's mom. If you'd let us find her, we can clear this up."
Sydney's grip tightens on her clipboard. Her voice is firm when she speaks. "Please don't make a scene."
I throw my hands up in the air. "We're not making a fucking scene! Are you listening to a damn thing Hunter's saying?"
Hunter digs his elbow into my ribs. "Knock it off," he mutters.
"Bite me," I mutter back.
"Don't tempt me."
Hunter's comment makes me snort.
"Please," Hunter continues. "We just want to talk to Ava. If we need to have this conversation outside of the ER, then we'll comply. Just let us find Ava."
Sydney glances over her shoulder. She's still clutching her clipboard. While she's surveying the area, I look at her. She's young. I'm assuming she recently graduated from university.
"Fine," she sighs. "What does her mom look like?"
Hunter shifts to his tip-toes, searching over Sydney's shoulder. After several seconds, he points to the far end and to the left. "She's over there. The one wearing a green sweater."
Sydney turns and follows Hunter's gesture. Once she sees the green sweater, she nods and says, "Follow me."
We follow Sydney to the last bed on the left. Ava turns, and her expression softens when she sees us. Pushing past Sydney, she pulls us into a hug.
It catches me off-guard. My expectations included her smacking me or yelling at me. This is new.
I like it.
Maybe Brenna's mom doesn't hate me as much as I thought.
Stepping back, Ava nods in approval, looking at me. "Thank you for calling COSAR." She turns to Hunter. "And thank you for calling me and picking Shea up. Both of you made excellent decisions and helped my daughter."
Pride swells in my chest. Getting feedback from the Harrison family is addictive. I'll never admit that aloud, but it's the truth. Both Brenna and her mom are so aware. Hearing praise means I'm doing something right; that the research I'm doing and progress I'm making is in the right direction.
Hunter shrugs. "No problem, Ava. Brenna's like family."
I glance at Tucker. "Thanks for picking me up. I was too distraught to drive."
He raises his eyebrows. "Another positive interaction with Shea Smith. Has hell frozen over?" He ends his jab with a grin.
I roll my eyes, but his comment makes me chuckle. Tucker has every right to goad me. I was an asshole. He can jab all he wants. It reminds me of who I don't want to be. Another version of Connor and our teammates. Someone who doesn't know the basic principles of respect.
"How's Brenna doing?" I ask.
Ava steps aside. "Ask her yourself."
Brenna is sitting on the ER bed. An IV is inserted into the back of her hand. The gash above her eyebrow is stitched and clean, with two thin pieces of medical tape across. Her hair is tied up into a bun, but she's still wearing the long-sleeve shirt she was wearing beneath her snow gear.
Before I can stop myself, I'm pulling Brenna into a hug.
"I'm okay," Brenna says, hugging me back.
"Don't fucking scare me like that again," I say at the same time.
Brenna tightens her arms around me. I bury my face in her neck, breathing in the faint hint of lavender and vanilla. My hand presses against the small of her back, and when I pull her closer, I'm wary of the IV and surrounding equipment.
"Well," Brenna laughs. "Never thought this would happen."
"What?" I murmur, still embracing her.
"You worrying about me. Most of the time, we wanted to kill each other."
I laugh, pressing a kiss to her neck. Her arms tighten around me as a gasp escapes her lips. "Bet you didn't expect that, either."
"How bold of you to kiss me in front of my mother."
Brenna's comment makes my cheeks burn as I straighten my posture. We stare at each other for a few seconds before my expression softens. "What happened, Bren? You terrified me."
She flicks her gaze at the sheets covering her legs. Then she picks at a loose thread.
"I ate nothing," she murmurs. "At all today. I haven't been eating a lot. Staying in shape for playoffs is more important."
A weight sinks in my gut. Hunter and I knew Brenna was lying when she said she didn't have an eating disorder, but hearing her confirm it breaks my heart. Perhaps we should've done more, Hunter and I. The signs were there: compulsive checking of ingredients lists and nutrition labels, an increase in concern about the health of ingredients, her addiction to exercise... All the signs were there.
I lace my fingers with hers and say, "There's nothing to be ashamed about, Bren. Your relationship with food isn't working for you, and you would be happier if you could change your eating habits, right? That's nothing to be ashamed of. You have a goal, but you need to achieve it healthily. Don't let shame be your motivator."
I pause. Brenna still isn't looking at me, and I'm worried what I've said has offended her.
Squeezing her hand, I continue speaking.
"You've got my support, Bren."
Before I can say anything more, Tucker appears on her other side. She looks up at him, and it fucking kills me. I know there's nothing to worry about; Brenna clarified that she and Tucker are more like siblings than anything. Plus, Tucker's dating Willa Caddel now. After the Winter Formal, they gave it a shot and are still going strong.
Still.
Experiencing the long-lasting connection between Bren and Hunter makes me feel blindsided. Does Brenna not trust me? Or is she more embarrassed and feels like Tucker won't judge her?
I run a hand through my hair, suppressing my envy. There's nothing wrong with Brenna having good guy friends. They're not a reason for me to get jealous.
"You okay, Bren?" Hunter asks.
She gives Hunter's forearm a squeeze. "I'm okay."
Hunter glances at me, and I can see the unease in his expression and posture. He doesn't believe what Brenna said. Nor do I. Brenna's not okay. She fainted because she hasn't been eating right. What's been going on behind the scenes is still unknown.
Just then, a doctor enters the area, closing the curtain behind her.
She glances down at her clipboard, flipping through the papers. "Brenna Harrison. A well-known name around the Okanagan." She flashes a beaming smile at Brenna. "My son plays with Kelowna's team." Her gaze shifts to me. "You would know him. Jayden Miller."
Hunter, Brenna, and I exchange a glance. None of us have ever met Jayden's mom. She's always busy with work. Jayden's dad shows up more often than his mom. Even then, I couldn't put a face to a name. His parents are shitty parents.
Staring at his mom reminds me of the conversation we had after Brenna had fallen asleep on New Year's Eve. They're not accepting of their son. Jayden, being bisexual, disgusts them. It makes my blood boil.
"Jayden's a sweetheart," Brenna smiles. "He's been over to my house a few times." She exchanges a glance with me, then with Tucker. "A friend we'd do anything to protect, right?"
Tucker crosses his arms and nods. His gaze stays fixed on her.
"Anything," I reply. I lock my gaze with hers.
Jayden's mom shifts before she clears her throat and turns to Ava. "Doctor Miller," she says, holding a hand out.
Ava takes it. "Ava Harrison. I'm Brenna's mom. How did the blood tests go? Does she have a concussion?"
Dr. Miller glances down at her clipboard again. "She does not have a concussion. However, her iron is very low, as is her blood sugar."
Everyone's gaze falls on Brenna.
She looks down. For the first time, she looks vulnerable.
Hunter rests his hand on Brenna's shoulder and squeezes. "I did nothing wrong."
"Brenna," Ava warns. "There are signs. Such as your addiction to exercise and your impulse to check nutrition labels."
Brenna wrinkles her nose. "Isn't that normal? There's nothing wrong with watching your calorie intake or checking the ingredients."
Ava clears her throat. "Brenna. You are impulsive. It's become mandatory for you to inspect the nutritional labels. You've also cut specific food groups from your diet."
And she's skinny.
While Brenna's composed of pure muscle, her clothes are hanging on her now. If I were to run my fingers along her ribs, I'd feel each one.
Brenna snorts. "Mom. I'm trying to be healthy. There's nothing wrong with that."
"Health can be harmful if not done correctly," Hunter says. "Part of the hockey program is seeing a dietician, Bren. They discuss and promote healthy eating healthily. What you're doing isn't healthy."
She flinches, shooting a glare at Tucker.
I direct my gaze to the floor. Although I've noticed Brenna's weight loss, I've been more focused on her loss of energy. Saying she's sluggish isn't fair. She's not sluggish, but she's lost the energy she had prior to cutting food groups from her diet. Brenna can still skate circles around anyone. She's lost the spark in her personality. The fire behind her gaze.
Rubbing the back of my neck, I glance at Brenna. "Bren. They're right. You passed out. That's not a good sign, and it means you're harming your body. I'm not trying to play the villain. None of us are. We care about you and what's being done to your body..."
I trail off, hoping I've said the right thing. The last thing I want to do is offend Brenna. Eating disorders are fragile situations because they're both physical and psychological. Years ago, Noah's mom was struggling with something similar. Or so I think. Brenna hasn't been diagnosed, but there are similarities between every type of eating disorder.
"What type of eating disorder are we looking at?" Ava asks.
Her question makes me flinch. Jeez. Ava doesn't have a filter. Although it's a valid question, I find it blunt. Even if Brenna and Ava were here half an hour before Hunter and I, don't more tests need to be done?
Dr. Miller glances at her clipboard. "Orthorexia is not recognized, but it is defined as an obsession with proper eating. Being aware of the nutritional value of food isn't bad, Brenna, but an obsession can damage your well-being. Orthorexia is a difficult topic to diagnose because many people can have underlying disorders. A previously existing eating disorder like anorexia, a form of obsessive-compulsive disorder, or perhaps a stand-alone eating disorder."
The doctor pauses, eyeing each one of us before she continues speaking. She brushes a strand of dark brown hair behind her ear. It's come loose from her low ponytail.
"From the information I've gathered, you fall into the category of orthorexia."
She lists off the symptoms.
Compulsive checking of ingredient lists and nutritional labels.
An increase in concern about the health of ingredients.
Cutting out food groups.
An inability to eat anything but foods that are deemed "healthy" or "pure."
Showing distress when healthy foods aren't available.
Body image concerns.
Scratching my throat, I swallow. Brenna falls into each of these categories.
"What are the treatments like?" Ava asks.
Dr. Miller clears her throat. "There are no clinical treatments for orthorexia. Normally, we treat is as a variety of anorexia and/or obsessive compulsive disorder. Treatment will usually include psychotherapy. This will increase the variety of foods eaten or exposure to anxiety-provoking foods. Weight restoration is also a contribution. As is teaching the patient how to have a healthy lifestyle."
Silence settles over all of us as we process the words. Hunter is staring at the hospital bracelet around Brenna's wrist. Ava and Dr. Miller are holding eye contact, which creeps me out. It feels like they're speaking telepathically to each other.
I shift my weight from one foot to the other. There's something off here. Something that makes little sense. Brenna doesn't have OCD, and I wouldn't call her anorexic. Despite her concern over healthy foods and exercising, she will still indulge in junk food sometimes. Sure, she'll rebound with an intense period of exercise, but she's still eating. Today's the first day I've seen effects of her eating habits. It's concerning, but at least we've caught it.
Still, there's an uneasy feeling in my gut. Something's not right.
Clearing my throat, I say, "Can Brenna and I have a minute alone? There's something I want to discuss."
As soon as the words are out of my mouth, I kick myself. I'm her boyfriend. I can't imagine the thoughts running through Ava's head right now.
"We haven't had sex," I blurt. "There's no possibility of an STD." My cheeks turn pink.
Brenna smacks me. "Shea."
"I swear," I add, keeping my gaze locked with Ava's.
She doesn't look pleased, but she nods. "Fine. We'll give you five minutes."
Hunter, Ava, and Dr. Miller exit the area, giving Brenna and me space.
As soon as they're gone and the curtain is closed, I turn to Brenna. "What's going on? You don't have OCD. You're not anorexic. What the hell is up, Brenna?"
Sighing, she glances down at the bed, picking at the loose thread again. She mumbles something.
"What?" I ask.
With no warning, Brenna pulls me into a hug. "I was trying to fight it. But I kept failing. After all the work you've done to become a better person, I didn't want to display my failures. Or be a hypocrite. It's just... Yeah..."
She trails off, and I press a kiss to her forehead. "Don't compare yourself to anyone. There aren't any standards to live up to, Brenna."
Her arms tighten around my body, and her breath is hot against my neck. My lower back is aching as I lean over the bed, but I ignore it. Giving Brenna the comfort she needs is more important than a numb ache.
She sniffles. "It's stress. Stress is making me lose my appetite, Shea, and exercise is the only way I feel productive."
"Why are you stressed?"
"Because of my dad."
And there's the truth. The hidden key piece of information that was giving me a strange vibe.
Pulling away, I hoist myself up onto the bed and sit down, my legs hanging from the side. "Did you ever think of talking to him?"
She snorts, an indifferent expression visible. "Why should I talk to him? He left me and Mom behind."
A smile curves across my lips. Classic Brenna. Once you fuck her over, she'll take none of your shit. Guess I lucked out in that department.
I clear my throat. "I'll join you, if it helps."
She cocks an eyebrow at me. "What?"
I shrug. "If you need the support, I'll come with you. To talk to your dad. Sometimes, it helps. Maybe you'll find closure through answers."
Brenna picks at the loose thread again. "You don't have to."
"I know I don't. But I want to."
She glances at me. The tip of her nose is red, and her cheeks are pink, but any tears she was shedding have disappeared. Any sad emotions have been replaced by a bright smile.
Reaching up, I brush a lock of hair behind her ear. My hand lingers near her chin. Because she's still smiling, I brush my knuckle along her bottom lip.
"I love it when you smile," I say.
Blush fills her cheeks, and then she's kissing me. I grin against her mouth, tilting my head so I can deepen the kiss. This isn't how our date was supposed to go, but at least we're getting time together. Literally behind closed curtains.
When we break the kiss, I flash her a smile. Squeeze her hand. "I need to get going. Noah's babysitting Chels. He's expecting me back soon. Talk to your mom about meeting with your dad. Or, y'know, keep it in mind."
Brenna sighs. "I'm sorry for ruining our date."
Although I was on the verge of a panic attack earlier, Brenna didn't ruin today. The relief that she's okay remedied any frustrations. Not to downgrade the seriousness of her stress and eating disorder. Seeing someone faint really shakes you up.
"You didn't ruin it," I say. "We'll just have to reschedule."
She smiles, glancing down at that loose thread again. "Go pick up your sister, Shea."
Brenna doesn't need to tell me twice. Sticking around won't do me any good. As much as I want to stay here, by her side, I have the responsibility of picking my sister up.
Stepping around the curtain, I almost run into Tucker. He grips my arm, steadying both of us.
Lowering his voice, he asks, "Is she okay?"
I nod, but that's all I do. Brenna will talk to them. "I've got to get going. Noah needs me to pick Chelsea up. Text me later?"
Hunter nods. "Sure thing, man." He pauses. "How are you getting there?"
"Bus," I shrug. "The next one comes in five minutes. I'll bus to the café and get Noah to drop Chels and I off at home. Tomorrow, KJ can drive me to grab my vehicle."
Hunter shakes his head and withdraws his keys. "Trade keys with me. Take my vehicle. I'll get Ava or Brenna to help me pick up yours, then we can trade at school."
My gaze flicks to his. "Are you sure?"
"Yeah," he shrugs.
"Thanks, man," I say.
After we trade keys, I wave at Ava, then exit the ER.
Outside, the air is bitter and my cheeks feel the sting. Tucker's vehicle is parked at the top level of the parkade, so I brace myself for long exposure to the cold.
Now that my adrenaline has worn off, I'm tired and susceptible to the cold weather. It irks me a little. After I pick up Chels, we'll hit the hot tub. My shoulder's bugging me again. I think I tore my muscles when Brenna fell. My shoulder broke the fall.
I'm not concerned—I let my shoulder heal. For the next few days, I'll take things slow and let it relax. If things don't improve, I'll schedule a doctor's appointment and get it looked at.
Expelling a deep breath, I watch the cloud of white dissipate into the January air.
Enough shit has gone on today, but I have a bad feeling about returning home. Things between Mom and Dad have been tense lately.
All I need is more shit to happen.
* * *
Turns out, I'm right.
As soon as Chelsea and I return home, we can hear Mom and Dad shouting. Rolling my eyes, I drop the duffle bag and pick Chels up.
"Did Noah feed you dinner?"
She nods, her gaze flicking to the hallway.
I suppress another eye roll. "Don't listen to them, Chels. Their fights have nothing to do with us. It's their relationship."
Chelsea rests her head against my shoulder as she nods. Although she's nodding, I don't think she comprehends the context of my words. She's too young to. Right now, she thinks our family is moulded together in one relationship. That whatever happens between Mom and Dad includes us, too. In a way, it does. But their fights do not occur because of us.
"Let's get you upstairs, kid," I murmur, heading for the stairs. "I'll talk to Mom and Dad, okay?"
Chelsea doesn't argue with me, and after I've tucked her into bed, I head downstairs, ready to battle the shit-show.
Mom and Dad are in the kitchen, yelling at each other.
"You are never home!" Mom exclaims.
Dad jabs a finger in her direction. "I provide for this family."
"Bullshit! We both have jobs. We both pay the bills. This is not some one-sided relationship. Don't lie to yourself!"
I step into the kitchen, keeping my shoulders back. My voice is low, almost deadly, when I speak. "Can you two knock it off? Chelsea is home now. You're upsetting her."
Dad glares at me. "You are not part of this, Shea."
Sighing, I lean against the counter. Here we go again. The same old cycle. "I am, Dad. So is Chels. At least go outside to fight, please. Today's been a shit day. I don't want to deal with your drama."
Dad snorts.
Mom pastes on her concerned expression. "What happened?"
"Nothing," I reply. "I can handle it. Just stop, please. I've had enough of your childish drama. You two make me feel like the parent. Noah had to babysit her, despite you two being home. Doesn't that raise a red flag?"
Again, Dad snorts.
"You were supposed to babysit her. What were you doing?"
There's nothing wrong with his words.
What gets to me is his tone.
Fucking bastard. Despite his shitty parenting skills, I still treat him with respect.
I throw my hands up. "I'm not in the mood for this shit. My girlfriend passed out because she has an eating disorder, Connor is still a prick, and I'm just done. Done with shitty people and their shitty situations."
Collecting my jacket, toque, and keys, I head for the stairs. Tucker won't mind if I drive to KJ's house. And I'm sure KJ won't mind if Chels and I crash at his place. We've done it before. He's staying at his dad's house this week, so he's close to here.
Dad's hand comes down on my shoulder. He spins me around, looking infuriated. "Girlfriend?"
I lock my gaze with Dad's. Just like when I realized fearing Connor was stupid, all I feel is pity for the opposer. Dad is just as insecure as Connor. They're two peas in a fucking pod.
"Brenna Harrison is my girlfriend, Dad. And she fainted because she has an eating disorder! Don't fucking test my patience right now. I'm worried about her. About Chelsea. About my chances at getting into Boston. Don't. Fucking. Test. Me."
Dad looks like he wants to smack me. Part of me wants him to. Then I could call social services and have proof on my face. His handprint could undermine him. The other part pities him.
"Chelsea and I are staying at KJ's house tonight. If you don't have the common sense to stop fighting in front of her, I'll make sure she feels safe, welcomed, and loved."
Those words hurt. Somewhere, our parents love us. Right now, they're just blinded by their emotions and selfishness. Until that's remedied, I can't let Chels suffer. Especially not tonight after hanging out with Noah. She had a good night with our cousin. Letting my parents ruin that is shameful.
"Shea..." Mom says.
I shake my head. "We're leaving."
Turning on my heel, I juggle the keys in my hand and head upstairs. Chelsea's bedroom door is already open, so I step inside. She has her flashlight on, and she's reading a short chapter book.
"Shea?" Chelsea asks. She sets her flashlight down.
Flicking on the light, I grab a bag from her closet. I fill it with the necessities. "Come on, Chels. We're going to KJ's house. He's invited us for sleepover."
That's a lie, but it's needed. I don't want her knowing we're storming out of the house because of our parents.
Chelsea frowns. "On a school night?"
"Uh-huh," I nod. "KJ and I have some homework to do. We forgot about it. There's an extra bedroom we can share downstairs. Go grab your toothbrush and stuff, okay, kid?"
Climbing out of bed, Chels nods.
While she's gathering stuff from the bathroom, I shoot off a quick text to KJ. He responds with a thumbs-up.
Fuck, I think I owe KJ my soul.
Chelsea returns with a small bag in her hand. "I'm ready."
I nod, running a hand through my hair. "Wait here, kid. I need to grab some stuff."
She nods, and then I'm exiting her bedroom. Any frustration pumping through my bloodstream is now replaced by exhaustion. All I want to do is sleep.
Which I'll be able to do as soon as we leave this hellhole.
* * *
KJ's a lifesaver, and that's what I tell him when I enter his house, carrying my little sister. She fell asleep on the drive over.
"It's no problem, man," he says. "I know what it's like to experience a crumbling relationship. My parents are divorced. Do you think they were shitting rainbows and unicorns, and eating cupcakes? Fuck no."
I snort as KJ takes my bag. "I still owe you one."
He waves off my comment, then gestures for me to follow him.
KJ's dad's house has a wide-open layout. While the backyard is minimal, the house is a good size. It has an open-concept kitchen-living room area, five bedrooms, and two bathrooms. KJ's dad has a large family, which means lots of relatives visiting for the Winter Holidays. I came over once, and I swore never again. He has so many freaking cousins.
"I'll meet you upstairs. Chels can stay in here." He pushes the door open to a spare room. It's filled with two twin-sized beds. KJ tosses the bag onto the opposing bed while I tuck Chels in.
"Bad night?" KJ asks.
"Bad day," I correct. "But let's continue this conversation upstairs. I don't want to wake Chels up."
After flicking the light off and closing the door, KJ and I head up to his bedroom. He's the only one who stays upstairs. His bedroom is basic. A twin-sized bed, large window, and a small closet. The walls are painted a dark green. His bedding is a creamy grey. He has a TV mounted on the wall, where his Xbox is connected.
"So," KJ says. He flops down onto his bed. "What happened?"
I chew on my bottom lip. Maybe I shouldn't say anything about Brenna. But not having anyone to talk to is eating at me. Hunter's a good friend, but he's not KJ. KJ and I are brothers.
Sitting down on the bed, I rest my elbows on my knees. Drop my face in my hands. "Brenna passed out during our date. I had to call COSAR. They picked her up and took her to the hospital."
KJ's mouth drops open as he sits up. "Dude. What the fuck? Is she okay? How'd that happen?"
I run a hand through my hair. "Brenna told me I was allowed to tell you, just so we're clear. She has an eating disorder caused by the stress of meeting her dad and the upcoming playoffs."
KJ rubs his jaw, frowning. "Playoffs aren't until March. Why is she stressing?" He pauses. "Shit, though. That's horrible. How's she doing? What did the doctor say?"
"There are other factors contributing to it. She has something they call orthorexia. At least, that's what they think it is. As for how Brenna's doing? It's difficult to say. I wasn't there very long since I had to pick up Chels. I think she'll be okay. Brenna's strong. She'll fight through this."
I don't mention the part about Brenna comparing herself to me. That was something personal between us. At one point or another, KJ will find out about Brenna passing out. Either from Hunter or Nick. Or Nick will tell Jayden, then Jayden will talk to us. The rest of what Brenna said doesn't need to be discussed.
I clear my throat. "Jayden's mom was the ER doctor."
"No shit!" KJ gasps. "What was she like? I've never met Jayden's mom."
I shrug. "She was professional. Really played on Jayden being on our team, though. Her fake tone was sickening."
KJ's face darkens. "His parents are jerks."
"Yeah," I snort. "No shi—"
"Kaleb?"
I glance over my shoulder, staring at the doorway. Feet padding down the hallway echoes through the hallway.
KJ curses. "Shit. I forgot Ella was coming over tonight."
Scrambling to his feet, he shouts, "Just a second!"
Then he looks at me.
I cock an eyebrow. "Progressive. Dad's not home and you decide to hook up with your..." I trail off. KJ and Ella are a mystery. "What are you guys?"
KJ shrugs. "Not sure. But we're not doing what you think. Ella and I... We'll be graduating soon. Our plans don't align, and we don't want to hold each other back. There's no sex or anything. We just enjoy each other's company."
Standing, I flash a fake grin at KJ. "No need for details, man. You and Ella can do whatever you want. I'm gonna head downstairs. Today's events have exhausted me."
Really, his comment has shaken me. What happens after high school? If I get into Boston, I'm not giving up my dream for Brenna. And I doubt she'll give up hers. She wants to play for UBCO's women's hockey team.
Fuck.
As I'm exiting, KJ's room, I run a hand through my hair. Great. Now more stress is weighing on my shoulders. Is dating during high school wrong? Did I make a mistake asking her out?
I'm so consumed by my thoughts, I bump shoulders with Ella. She grips my bicep, steadying me.
"Shea," Ella blinks. "Are you okay?"
"Yeah," I breathe. "Thanks. Just worrying about Brenna."
She flashes me a sympathetic smile. "Brenna called me earlier. She's doing okay. A little shaken up, but she's looking into counselling. She wants to be better."
I dip my head down, hiding the smile. "Thanks, Ella."
"No problem," she replies, giving my shoulder a pat.
Grinning at her, I say, "Try not to have too much fun."
Ella snorts. "If cuddling and watching a movie is too much fun, I feel bad for Brenna."
I press a hand to my heart. "Ouch. That was cold."
She steps past me, stopping at the door to KJ's bedroom. "I hope your ego heals, Shea."
Turning my back to her, I chuckle.
Even though the humour is helping, there's still a nagging feeling in my gut.
What happens when we graduate?