Page 4 of The Score

A frown appears on his brow. He comes in, closes the door behind him, and kneels in front of me.

"What's going on?" His pupils dilate as he takes me in.

"Papá, I'm putting you on speaker. Bear is here."

"Hola, tío," my friend says.

Like any good Chilean family, my parents have insisted Bear calls them tío and tía. It's an affectionate title people back home use for anyone older but not old enough to be a grandparent. It's a way to show respect and care for people around you, especially friends' parents.

As soon as Bear moved in next door and we became joined at the hip, my parents welcomed him and invited him into the family with little gestures like that. It's always meant a lot to him. I'm pretty sure Bear loves them nearly as much as I do. This news will hurt him, too.

My dad's voice breaks slightly. "I'm going to need you to give my daughter a hug, okay?"

"Of course." Bear's voice turns deep and serious. "What happened?"

"You're like a son to me," my dad adds. "You can help me reassure Pen. Everything is going to be okay."

Bear frowns harder. He stares at me seeking answers. He knows my dad gets emotional easily and it's hard to get info out of him sometimes.

"He has an aneurysm," I say with a shaky voice.

"It may never do anything," Dad insists on the phone. "We're running tests… there'sa surgery."

Bear hasn't stopped studying me.

"We're coming," he says into the phone.

"What?" I ask.

My dad echoes me.

"Your bags are in the back of my car already," Bear explains. "Right next to mine. We can skip the campground. We can drive home instead."

Growing up, Leon spent a lot of time with us. A few afternoons and evenings a week turned to more when, during our last year of high school, Bear's parents went back to Norway for work. My friend stayed with us to finish his senior year, and for the summer before going to college on a football scholarship. When he says home, he doesn't mean the house next door where he used to live.

That's why he makes this offer. Bear wants to be there to help, to get the full truth, and to do anything he can to make things better. If he can't, he'll try to be there to hold us. He knows I'd want to see my parents, hug them, and ask what's next while I look into their eyes. He's making it happen. He's willing to sacrifice a trip he planned and paid for to make it happen.

"We're going to be there late into the night," Bear adds. "It's going to take us a few hours, but we can be home tonight."

Warmth seeps through my skin as if Leon was already holding me close. It fights off that cold feeling taking over just a few minutes ago because, no matter what, I won't have to go through this alone. I'll have him right next to me.

Gina was right. I'm one lucky lady.

I hope he can see the gratitude in my eyes. For good measure, I'll tell him all about it later tonight.

"I can use my keys to let ourselves in," I say to my dad, my eyes on my friend. "You don't have to wait for us."

"We can talk tomorrow during breakfast." Bear is big enough that we're the same height with him on his knees and me on the chair. Face to face, he gazes right back at me.

A tiny smile appears on his lips again. With a confident move of his hand, he puts a strand of my long hair behind my ear.

"We'll wait," my dad says. Emotion coats his voice.

"No, you need to rest," I say. "The campground is on the way. We'll stay there tonight then make it in time for brunch with you guys."

"All right," Dad says. "I'll tell your mom."

We say goodbye. Bear's gaze is steady on me. His hand is still on my face. A thumb makes an arch on my cheek, and tenderness settles light on my chest.

"Thank you," I say.

We leave my office with thoughts of vacation forgotten for a while.