Burnout (The Holland Brothers Book 1)

Brogan extends a cup of shitty cafeteria coffee in my direction.

“No thanks.” I shake my head and continue walking the length of the waiting room, not meeting anyone’s gaze.

The seats are filled with Flynn’s teammates and the parents that drove them. His coach is here, too. Then there’s all of us. Hendrick and Jane sit not talking, Archer and Brogan are keeping the vending machine busy, and Dad is sitting as far away from me as he can. Wise choice.

I don’t remember much from the moments after Flynn got hurt. It felt like a bad dream as they helped him off the court. One look at his elbow and we all knew it was broken. I drove him to the hospital, and they took him back immediately. The only update we’ve had is that it needed immediate surgery. Surgery. I swallow the lump in my throat.

A quiet murmur sounds across the waiting room while we all do our best to will the time away. I’m counting the tiles on the floor, stepping on each one as I go. Thirteen, fourteen, fifteen.

The sliding doors open from outside with that electronic humming noise, followed by the honk of horns and the steady plink of rain hitting the asphalt. She stops in the doorway. Avery’s worried gaze scans the room until she finds me and then she rushes toward me. I can’t move, but when her arms wrap around me, I melt into her embrace.

Sliding her fingers through mine, she guides me down into a chair and takes the one next to it.

“Have you heard anything?” she asks.

“Not yet.”

“I’m so sorry.” She squeezes my hand. “Flynn is tough. He’s going to be fine.”

Fine, but will he be able to play again? None of us have mentioned it, but I know the others are thinking the same thing. He broke his right elbow. His pitching arm. I don’t know what that means for him now or in the future, but it feels like everything good in my life is slipping through my fingers like quicksand and I can’t do shit to stop it.

Flynn’s coach stands and gets himself a cup of the crappy waiting room coffee and then wanders over to Dad. The doctor did the same thing, assuming he’s the person responsible for Flynn. What a fucking joke.

“I feel so helpless,” I tell her. My leg bounces with frantic energy that needs to be dispelled. “I wish it were me in there.”

“I know,” she says.

I finally look at her. Really look at her. Black joggers thrown over a pink leotard, sneakers, hair thrown up in a messy ponytail. “You didn’t need to quit practice early to come here.”

“I didn’t,” she says quickly, then offers a sheepish smile. “Okay, I did. But there will be plenty of time to obsess over my routine tomorrow.”

We sit there holding hands in the dimly lit room on cheap plastic chairs with the smell of burnt coffee in the air. I have the errant thought that she’s the only thing keeping me together right now.

The doctor comes back out and the family gathers around to hear the news. Dad joins us, but so does Avery and she squeezes my hand tight.

He explains in complicated medical terms what was broken and how he fixed it. Under normal circumstances I’d be taking in every word and asking for clarification to better comprehend exactly what’s happened, but I’m consumed with the need to get to Flynn and see with my own eyes that he’s okay.

“Can we see him?” I finally ask when the doctor stops talking.

“Yes, but keep it brief. He’s groggy and needs to rest. His pain is under control right now, but he’s going to experience a lot of discomfort over the next twenty-four hours. I want to keep him at least for tonight. If things look good in the morning, you can take him home then.”

“I’ll let everyone else know,” Brogan says, pointing to Flynn’s teammates and coach, who watch us anxiously.

The rest of us head back with a nurse to the recovery room. Well, almost everyone. Dad disappears somewhere along the way. Probably afraid he’s going to get stuck with the hospital bill.

Flynn is high from the meds. He smiles and cracks a joke about not being able to sign autographs for a few months.

We each take turns hugging him and offering bullshit words of comfort. He can barely keep his eyes open by the time it gets to me.

My throat burns as I say, “I’m going to run home and get you some clean clothes. Anything else you want?”

His eyes close and he shakes his head.

In the parking lot, Avery walks next to me hugging her arms across her middle. “Do you want me to come with you?”

I want to say yes, but I know there isn’t anything she can do, and it’s not like I’m going to be any fun. Flynn needs me and that’s all I can focus on.

“No, that’s okay. I’m just going to grab his stuff and come back for the night. I’m sorry to bail on our plans.”

“No, of course. You should be with him.” We stop at her Bronco.

“Is he going to be able to pitch again?” I ask her. She’s the only person I trust for the answer. She’s been through this. Not this exactly, but she had a traumatic injury and came back from it. If she says Flynn can too, then I’ll believe her.

“I don’t know,” she says and some of that hope disappears into a puddle at my feet. She takes my hand and then links our pinky fingers. “But if he’s as stubborn as his big brother, then I think there’s a good chance.”

My lungs expand to take in a deep breath, but my chest still feels tight.

“Hey,” she says, swinging our joined hands. “I don’t have anywhere to be the rest of the night. I could pick us up some food and meet you back here, keep you company.”

My lips curve up on one side. She has no idea how nice that sounds but sitting around the hospital while I take care of my baby brother isn’t exactly the night we had planned. “It’s okay. I’m probably not the greatest company right now and I know you have classes tomorrow.”

There’s a beat of hesitation before she replies, “If you change your mind or need anything, I won’t be far.”

I nod and she turns to open the door of her vehicle.

“Avery.” My voice is low, but she stops and flicks her gaze over her shoulder to me. “Thanks for being here.”