Kaleb

While I play a decent few games of hockey on the road, my mental stability continues to deteriorate. Probably because I'm making phone calls left, right, and centre. Mel and I have been talking every night. I'm aware of her tests and the diagnosis, as well as the consistent seizures that medications can't control. But it breaks my heart when she tells me she won't be returning to our house. Ella brings as much stuff to Mel's private hospital room to make her comfortable. And while Mel can put on a good brave face, I can see right through her.

She's scared.

Her bottom lip trembles when she asks me to call her parents and Maddison. Her friends in Montréal. Jayden and Hunter. Mel doesn't know them as well as I do, but I'm gonna need them here when it happens. And she knows that. She knows me so damn well she's invited my best friends, labelling them as people she wants here when she dies. 

It's well into the evening before I finish the calls. Although there's a significant time difference between Minnesota and home, I force myself to stay awake and finish the calls. Breaking them up will only lead to more pain. I also make the calls in public so I can keep my voice steady. Right now, I'm at a café and I'm on my third cup of coffee. I've just gotten off of the phone with Maddison, Mel's sister. It was the hardest conversation of them all. I don't know Maddison very well. Nor do I have a sibling. But I've seen what sibling bonds are like from Shea and Chelsea. I can't imagine what it would be like to lose one. 

Speaking of Shea... he was supposed to be here ten minutes ago, but the roads were pretty shitty today. Once the ten minute mark turns to twenty, though, I begin to worry. However, just as I'm about to call him, he steps through the door. We make eye contact, and he waves at me before heading up to the counter to order a drink.

It takes him a few minutes to order his drink and food, which I'm thankful for. After our exchange at the hospital, I haven't stopped confiding in him. It feels good to let everything loose. As per usual, Shea Smith is right: secrets are poisonous. All they do is fester and feed off of your mental and emotional health. But that doesn't mean talking is easy. We've had a few arguments over my inability to answer questions properly and instead skirt around them. Which means I piss myself off. I hate miscommunication or the overall lack of communication. And I piss myself off sometimes because I make myself look like a hypocrite. 

So, when he sits down, already biting at his croissant, I say, "I have feelings for Ella."

Ever since our almost-kiss, I've been trying to convince myself otherwise. Every day, I remind myself I'm married to Mel. That I love her more than anything in this world. And that's the truth. Mel is the air I breathe. The beat in my heart. But part of me is still attached to Ella. It refuses to let go and forget what we used to be. My subconscious brings up the what-ifs and the maybes I wouldn't usually consider. Everything is a question with her. 

Shea doesn't react. All he does is set the croissant down and chew thoughtfully. After he swallows, he clears his throat and says, "I know."

"Huh?" I blink.

"KJ..." he sighs. He drags his finger through the funky design atop his hot chocolate. "You and Ella were on and off during high school. There was this constant push and pull between the two of you, which complicated things. Even when you weren't dating, you were best friends throughout the whole thing. Don't think I didn't notice those subtle hand brushes and expressive looks. Because of that, I think the attraction is inevitable. It's like some invisible string binds you two." He pauses, wiping his hand on the napkin. His voice is an octave lower when he says, "You still look at each other like that."

Fear grips my spine. "Like what?"

"Like you'd die for each other."

I look down at my coffee, feeling exhausted and guilty at the same time. Emotions are complicated. I wish I could shut them off. They've been playing tug-of-war with my heart since the hospital. "Melody's been pushing us together."

Shea sighs again. "I know that, too."

I blink. "What the fuck? You knew? And you didn't tell me?"

Clearly, I've been oblivious to my surroundings for the past month. I feel like a fucking idiot.

"What was I supposed to do? Melody begged me not to say anything to either of you. I didn't agree with her plans, but I understood her heart. She paved the road with nothing but good intentions. But it ended up hurting both of you, didn't it?"

I can't look him in the eye. Instead, I survey the coffee shop, noting the chalkboard with all the orders written on it. The tile flooring. The white brick wall. All the machines. Any signs.

Anything to get my mind off of this conversation. I just can't discuss it right now. I'm in love with two women while one of them, my wife, is dying. How much more fucked up can things get?

God, that's probably not a good question to ask. 

"KJ?"

I look at Shea, on the brink of snapping. "Fine! Yes! It did hurt us! Are you happy? That's always what you want, right, is to be right?"

He tips his drink in my direction and uses his sarcasm to lighten the mood. "I'm right most of the time, KJ. Don't be such a jealous fucker. You should know by now."

I snort and cross my arms, looking at the coffee shop again. There are moments when I want to kill him. But those moments always dissipate quickly. It's impossible to stay mad at him—even when you should. He has too good of a heart.

"Know what?" I fire back.

Shea grins. "That I'm smarter than you."

A small chuckle is exchanged between us before we slip back into silence.

After a sip of his drink, he fixes me with a stare. "Jayden texted me. Said you sounded pretty upset on the phone. I'm sure I'll get a text from Tucker, too." He sighs, running a hand through his hair. "KJ, what you and Ella did isn't cheating. There's no shame in falling in love with someone else as long as the relationship doesn't carry on behind the other's back. Yeah, it can hurt like hell, but at least that person is being honest. People fall in and out of love. We're humans, it's what we do. I've seen it happen before. I can't comprehend it as well as others can, but I don't see a problem with it."

"So you would let Brenna go? Just like that?" My tone is challenging. 

A pained expression crosses his face. He clears his throat. "Yes. Because I love her, and I want her to be happy. If I'm the one holding her back... I'd never forgive myself for that. Would you forgive yourself if you made Melody unhappy?"

Once again, I find myself hating this man. Either he knows how to get under my skin or we're both more similar than I thought. Maybe it's both. Just like his happiness compared to Brenna's, mine comes second to Melody's. Love does that to you. It makes your heart beat for someone else.

"KJ... I'm not saying you need to embrace Ella with open arms. When Melody passes away, you'll need to time to heal. Methods of coping. Healthy ones. And whether you like it or not, time will pass and wounds will close. You'll always feel the sting of losing her, but that's what will fuel you into a creating a life full of happiness. Her memory will serve as a reminder of what you deserve. What she wanted for you." He pauses, wrapping both hands around the warm mug. A crease forms between his eyebrows. "I've never lost anyone, so I can't promise my words are true. But that's what I like to believe. That we learn to live with the pain. That sadness can be used to create happiness."

I stare at the wedding ring on my finger, wondering if I'll ever be able to remove it. As much as I want to believe Shea's words, I feel like there's an impending sense of permanent doom lingering over my head. Like nothing will get better. With every second that passes, the world gets darker and I continue to lose little bits of my sanity. I can't comprehend living without Melody—even if part of me still loves Ella.

Exhaustion tempts the edges of my brain. Any energy left in my body is physical as opposed to mental and emotional. I need to shut this conversation down.

Taking a deep breath, I say, "Let's hope you're right."

Shea doesn't look convinced because he can't hide the concern on his face.

I ignore it because there's no way to prevent myself from falling down the rabbit hole.