Page 200 of Off Limits: The Firsts

I’m the one responsible.

I’m the vindictive one.

I’m the one my mother thought she’d left at the hospital. Alone.

And then . . . I can’t sense Jonah. I can’t feel my twin.

I stare at the police officer as if I don’t hear him, as if I don’t want to hear him . . . then the bottom drops out.

Hunter

Something’s amiss.

My head’s foggy.

My thoughts are lost.

I try to concentrate, but every time I try to manipulate the game plan, I fail.

Maybe I’m coming down with something.

Maybe this is burnout showing now.

“Tough game tonight.”

I glance over at Maysen and nod. “Sorry. I . . . was fucking up left and right out there.”

He shrugs, probably surprised that I’m not arguing or being defensive about it. “It happens, man.” He pats me on the back as I head toward my locker. “At least we still won.”

“True.” I nod. I hate knowing I didn’t contribute. Hate knowing that if there was a text from my dad, which there hasn’t been for the last couple games, exactly what it would say.

“At least we have a few days to shake it off.”

“My body could use it,” I tease and throw my gloves into the locker, sighing when I see my screen light up with Dad on the message ID.

“I knew he wouldn’t be able to resist for long,” I mutter.

With a deep sigh, I pick up my phone. Panic hits when I see the three words on the screen.

Dad: Call. It’s Jonah.

Within seconds, I’m out of the locker room, trying to find a place where I can hear and talk and have some privacy.

My mom doesn’t pick up on the first call. I end it and try again.

“Hello?” She sounds like a ghost of herself.

“Mom? Mom. What happened? How is he?” My words sound strangled from part panic, part disbelief, part just when I was trying to figure out a way to live for me, I’m sucked back into the darkness of shame.

And of course, the self-loathing is like an old enemy—unabashed, relentless, and unforgiving.

“He coded. He—”

“He what?” I bellow. How the fuck do I get out of here?

I can’t breathe.

“He coded and the ambulance came and . . .” The vibrato in her voice, the pure fear, hits me harder than any punch I’ve ever taken. “They revived him. He’s at the hospital.”