I stood at the edge of the student section, sunglasses on, ponytail high, a Gatorade bottle in one hand and a barely concealed knot of anxiety in my chest.

Bryce was on the mound.

His name had been announced with more than a few cheers, his glove lifted in casual salute before he jogged out, all confidence and ease, like this wasn't a huge moment. Like the weight of "starting pitcher" didn't sit like a spotlight on his shoulders.

The first pitch was clean. Fast. Controlled.

The second, too.

Third was a strikeout.

The crowd roared and Bryce simply turned and nodded toward Clayton, who was standing at Short Stop, before focusing his attention back on the mound.

He looked good.

That's what made me nervous.

Kylie nudged me with her elbow. "Why are you standing like someone's about to announce the world is ending?"

"I'm fine," I said, even though my arms were crossed tight and my jaw was clenched.

Amy appeared with popcorn, tossing a piece into her mouth like she didn't have a care in the world. "First inning and he's already showing off."

"That's Bryce," Kylie said, with an easygoing smile. "We love him for it."

I wanted to join in the conversation, but I was too busy watching. Studying.

Trying to convince myself that all of this had just been in my head.

A few innings in, I watched him pause before a pitch, rolling his shoulders slowly, like he was trying to reset something he didn't want to admit was off.

Kylie leaned toward me again. "Hey. He's okay."

I nodded, but my fingers were white around my Gatorade bottle.

Because he was so good at pretending.

Top of the fifth. The sun was relentless now, heavy on our shoulders and bouncing off the field in shimmers. Bryce was back on the mound, jaw set, glove flexing with every pitch.

He'd been solid for four innings. Focused. Sharp.

But something shifted.

The first pitch of the inning was high. Not by much, but enough to make the catcher pop out of his crouch.

The second, low and wide.

A few murmurs rippled through the crowd. Not panic. Just confusion.

Amy leaned forward. "Weird."

Kylie gave me a look. "It's one inning."

But I'd seen the exact moment it changed.

The way Bryce blinked after the second pitch. Slow. Just a half-second too long, like he was trying to steady the world.

He rolled his neck once, then again, jaw tight.

And then he crouched, just enough to press his fingers against his knee. Something you wouldn't notice unless you knew Bryce the way I did.

I stood a little straighter, heart pounding.

The catcher jogged out to the mound, tapped his glove against Bryce's back. Bryce nodded. Too quickly.

The next pitch? Fastball. Right down the middle.

Strike one.

Another. Then a pop fly, caught just shy of center field.

The bleachers roared again. The guy next to me high-fived Amy like everything was fine.

But I didn't sit down.

Because Bryce wiped his palm on his pants before the next pitch, twice.

Because he kept blinking like the sun had gotten brighter.

Because I could feel it in my chest, a kind of secondhand panic, like I was holding my breath inside someone else's lungs.

But he pulled it back.

Barely.

He struck out the next batter, fist clenched at his side like he didn't trust himself to pump it in celebration. Then he walked off the field with his head down, not up.

I sat back down, finally.

Kylie handed me a piece of her pretzel, like she didn't notice I was shaking.

"He's doing great," she said.

And I nodded, because he was. But there was something there, just below the surface. I could see, I could sense it, I could feel it.

And I was scared of it.

~*~

It was impossible to see the boys after the game, as their Coach often kept them back in the locker rooms for a long talk.

Especially after a win like today.

I stayed though, waiting in the bleachers, my leg bouncing as I tried to calm my nerves.

A light brush came on my shoulder, and I nearly jumped before whirling around to see Clayton of all people standing behind me.

"He's coming," Clayton said, his voice monotone. He was freshly showered, his hair still wet. "I needed to talk to you, though."

The fact that he initiated it was enough to put me on edge.

We moved a few steps away from the crowd. I braced myself.

"I watched him," Clayton said quietly. "Like you asked."

This can't be good.

"He got through it, yeah. But he wasn't okay."

I swallowed hard. "What did you see?"

He glanced back toward the field like he was checking if anyone could hear. "Fifth inning. He stopped pacing between pitches. Started pausing too long, like he was trying to re-center. Hand wiped on the pants, same spot, over and over. You noticed that, right?"

I nodded. "Yeah."

"He crouched a few times. Like he was grounding himself. And after he came off the mound? He wobbled a bit, like the ground was shaking beneath him."

That made my stomach turn.

Clayton looked at me, his expression serious. "Something's off. And it's not just fatigue or nerves."

I didn't realize how much I needed someone else to say it until that moment. How badly I needed confirmation that I wasn't imagining it.

"I'll talk to him," I said.

Clayton gave a slow nod. "I didn't say anything to the others. Figured if he'd tell anyone, it'd be you."

He started to walk away, then paused.

"If he doesn't?" he added. "You can come back to me. We'll figure it out."

He didn't wait for me to respond.

And suddenly, I wasn't just worried.

I was scared.

~*~

The house was finally quiet.

Amy and Brad were off celebrating somewhere. Jayden was on the back porch. And Clayton had disappeared into his room.

Which left just me in the kitchen, anxiously pacing as I waited on Bryce to come out of the shower.

While he'd taken a shower in the locker room post-game, he always liked to take a long, hot shower when we got home.

It wasn't long before he came into the kitchen, barefoot and soft-eyed in his oldest Gators tee and pajama pants. His damp hair was curling a little at the edges.

He looked like himself.

But I knew better. There was something brimming under the surface, something we had to talk about.

"Can we talk?" I asked, my voice coming out just above a whisper.

He paused, his eyes flickering over me. "We can. About what?"

"You."

He slid down onto the couch, opening his arms so that Dawson could jump up onto the couch and burrow his way into Bryce's lap. "What about me?"

I made my way over to him, kissing the top of his head before rounding the couch and sitting next to him. "How're you feeling?"

"Good." Too quick, like he'd been anticipating the question.

I looked over at him. "Bryce."

He didn't answer right away, his hand running through Dawson's fur, shoulders tensed.

"You wiped your palm on your pants five times in one inning," I said. "You crouched down like you were dizzy. You weren't just tired."

"You gotta stop coming to all my games," Bryce said, offering up a crooked smile. "You know me too well."

"I do. Which is why I'm so worried about you."

Bryce let out a breath. "I didn't want to blow it."

"You didn't," I said, my voice soft. "You pitched a great game."

"I didn't though," he said. "By the fifth inning, my head was pounding so hard I could barely see. I kept blinking just to keep things in focus. And my hands were—" He stopped himself. Looked down at them. "Shaky. Numb, almost."

My chest was imploding, whether it be from fear or relief, I wasn't quite sure. Not because he was struggling. But because he finally said it.

"I didn't say anything because I didn't want to get pulled. Not from the first game of the season. Not after they finally gave me a shot."

He looked up at me then, and for the first time in weeks, he didn't try to cover it.

"I'm not okay," he said quietly. "And I don't know what's wrong."

I reached for his hand and felt the tremble in his fingers.

"Then we figure it out," I said. "Together."

He nodded, eyes glassy.

"You have that appointment this week," I pointed out. "And we can go from there. Together."

He squeezed my hand, letting out a short breath. "Together. Always."

"I love you."

"And I, you."

~*~

The health workshop ran just as perfect as it could've.

The multipurpose room at Eastwood Middle looked like a battlefield of half-empty juice boxes, crumpled worksheets, and strewn gauze. The kids had cleared out in a whirlwind, and now it was just me and Nia, gathering leftover supplies and collapsing tables.

"You crushed it!" Nia said, with a bright smile. "Be careful, Sophie. They're going to want you to start heading committees."

Please, God, no. "I think I'm good just running the first aid convention for a group of bratty kids."

It had been hard to stay focused when all I could think about was Bryce. That right now, while I was passing out bandages and cheering for fake CPR, he was at the doctor. Sitting in an exam room. Getting answers I didn't have.

I needed to know what was going on.

We walked out to the parking lot, and Nia kept chatting about upcoming assemblies and the pre-med conference schedule. I only half-heard her.

I pulled out my phone to check the time as we pulled into the parking lot, and saw the missed call and text messages.

BRYCE

Call me when you can.

Love you.

Hope today went great.

My stomach twisted.

I let Nia know that I had to run, heart already in my throat as I hit redial. He picked up halfway through the first ring.

"Hey," he said, voice quiet.

I walked across the parking lot, out of earshot. "Hey. How'd it go?"

There was a pause.

"They ran bloodwork," Bryce said. "Just routine panels. But something came back flagged."

My heart thudded. "What kind of flagged?"

"My white blood cell count is high. Elevated way above baseline. Enough that the doctor ... He didn't like it."

I stopped walking. Just stood there in the middle of the parking lot, frozen.

High WBC. It could mean infection. Inflammation. Something benign. Or something worse.

"Did they say why?" I asked.

"They didn't say anything, really," Bryce said. "It's probably nothing. He even said that. But he wants me to see a hematologist and a neurologist. Full workup."

I forced a breath out through my nose, steadying myself as I tried to take in measured breaths. "When?"

"They're calling me tomorrow to schedule."

I couldn't tell if the pounding in my ears was mine or his. "Are you okay?"

"I don't know." His voice cracked just slightly. "I just feel numb at the moment. I kind of thought this was all in my head, I guess."

"I know you did."

"Can you just come home?"

Technically I was supposed to meet up with a study group. But nothing mattered more to me than Bryce in this moment. "I'll be there as soon as an Uber can pick me up."

"No. I will come and get you."

"Just relax."

"I won't relax if you're in a stranger's car," Bryce said, with a huff. "Give me fifteen, I'll be right there."

"I want to come with you," I added. "To your specialist appointment."

"I figured you'd say that."

"You knew I'd say that."

He gave a small breath of a laugh. "Yeah."

We sat in that stillness together.

"I'm proud of you," I said. "For going."

"Thanks," he said, soft and vulnerable in a way he rarely allowed himself to be. "I need to call my sister later, you know how Kayla can be. You'll stay with me while I do that?"

"You should probably call your mom too."

"No," Bryce declined. "Not until we know something more. She's busy."

Bryce's mom was always too busy.

"I'll stay with you always," I said. "We're in this together."

"You have no idea how much I love you. Or how much I need you right now."

Tears pricked at the corners of my eyes.

"Come pick me up," I said. "We'll talk about exactly what you need."

He groaned. "You know how I feel about dirty talk over the phone. It makes me insane."

"Then hurry up and come get me."

"Five minutes."

"I thought you said fifteen."

"I'm already in the car. Five tops."

Sophie being pulled in two directions. Trying to remain present for Bryce, trying to push forward her career. Where does she go next?

I went to the Florida Aquarium for the first time yesterday! it was so much fun. I've been to the Clearwater one, where Winter the Dolphin used to be. but I can't remember ever going to the big one in Tampa and it is HUGE. they have so much wildlife!

(please ignore the fact my eyes are closed, my eyes are closed in every picture ever.)

Teaser: Bryce has to break the news to Clayton, who does not take it well. The C-word is dropped for the first time.

This book will update again on Thursday.