SAAS INSTANT REPLAY:
"I never thought you were. It's this constant ache to be around you. All the time, I think about you—kissing you—touching you." His fingertips grazed my collarbone. "It was wrong, but I can't help it. I can't take it anymore. I just want—need—"
In an instant he had lifted me up so that I was sitting on top of the bar, and he was standing, trapping me with his arms. I barely had a chance to register the change because his hands cupped my face and brought my lips to his.
My head was spinning, and it hurt to think. But his body felt good and warm so I pulled him closer and curled my legs around him.
Chapter Eleven
Pratfall
Oliver's hands left my neck and started slipping down to my waist.
I gripped the handle to my broom more tightly to get more stability in the pouring rain.
He opened his mouth as I dug my heels into his lower back, and I took the opportunity to deepen the kiss, moving my lips hungrily against his.
Dodging past one of the Harpies's Beaters, I flew closer to Connor's tail.
His jeans rubbed against mine, and my hips bucked against his, eliciting a groan.
The rain was pouring down so heavily that it was beginning to seep through my robes, even though we had just begun playing not five minutes ago.
Our jar of whiskey crashed to the ground and likely shattered, but Oliver did not stop. Instead, he brought his hands down to grip my thighs.
Bryce zoomed by me, waving his Beater's bat in the air.
I pulled away from his lips, panting from lack of oxygen.
Pushing wet hair out of my face, I could see Jack's soaking figure as he intercepted a pass.
Oliver pulled some of my hair off my neck and started to leave open-mouthed kisses along the base of my jaw.
Jack passed the ball to Connor, who flipped it over to me.
I hung my head back to give Oliver better access as my fingers began to claw at his shirt.
Keeping a firm grip on the slippery Quaffle, I shot the ball over to Jack as we continued to fly in a triangle formation.
He sensed what my fingers were trying to do and then pulled back so that he could remove his shirt.
Jack threw the ball to Connor who tossed it back to him.
I launched myself at the newly revealed skin, wanting to touch every crevice, even biting into his shoulder.
I caught the Quaffle and tucked it under my arm.
Impatiently, he began to tug at the hem of my shirt, and I moved back so that he could get it off.
Out of the corner of my eye, I could sense one of the Harpies's Chasers closing in on me from my right.
He deftly unclasped my bra next and flung it carelessly behind the bar.
As the Chaser neared closer, I flung myself out of formation, tossing the Quaffle over to Connor before the girl could steal it away from me.
Our bare skin slapped together as we began to kiss again.
Des sent a Beater zooming at the Chaser's head, and I was once again free to rejoin Connor and Jack.
Oliver began to kiss down my navel.
Connor lost the Quaffle; it looked like the heavy rain had gotten into his eyes.
I started fumbling with the button of his jeans.
Swerving around, I started racing after the Harpies Chaser in possession of the Quaffle.
I was pushing Oliver's jeans down with my feet while he was working on slipping mine down my hips.
Connor was calling out instructions loudly, but I could not understand him over the pounding rain.
I could see a sheen of sweat glistening over Oliver as his heavy breathing filled my ears.
Bridget darted past - a flash of sopping wet navy blue robes.
My short nails dug into his back as I pulled him closer.
As the Harpies's Chaser neared the three hoops, I could almost see Oliver, circling the area.
Oliver groaned loudly against my left breast, and I felt tingling sensations down my spine.
Jack was rounding in on the Chaser in possession of the Quaffle.
Oliver's eyes found mine, and he stared at me with a blazing look that went quite beyond the manic glint he often sported when discussing Quidditch strategy.
Coming at the Chaser from the side, Jack lunged towards the Chaser as I flew towards her, straight on.
His movements turned less fiery and a bit more tender as he pushed hair out my eyes.
The Chaser panicked and dropped the Quaffle downwards, where Connor was waiting for it.
I stared right back at him.
Connor tucked the ball under his arm.
Oliver's grip on my thighs, still tangled around him, tightened as he angled my back against the bar.
We switched directions, flying towards the Harpies's hoops.
Oliver pushed himself up onto the bar, and then he was hovering above me.
I rose in the air to find my spot.
My eyes fluttered close as our hips began to rock together.
Connor passed to Jack, who sent the ball to me, as we formed a pattern of synchronization.
Oliver murmured my name softly against my neck.
I dodged another Bludger and then caught Jack's pass.
My fingers tugged at his hair as another few bottles crashed to the ground.
Jack fumbled for the slippery Quaffle. Thunder boomed through the sky.
As the heat built, my muscles began to tighten.
Dripping wet, I clamped my legs firmer against my broom to hold on.
I could feel my pulse quickening as my eyes began to roll backwards.
Forcing water off my face with my hand, I tried to figure out where the blurry shapes of Connor and Jack had gone.
Oliver's heart thudded loudly against my chest.
Someone called my name out.
His lips were back on mine.
Lightning crackled across the sky.
I could feel myself sliding down.
Though my sight was still hazy, I could make out the three gold hoops as I came closer to them.
I was panting harder than ever now.
My breath quickened as I looked around for my fellow Chasers.
I could feel myself coming undone so I wrapped myself even closer into Oliver and covered his mouth with mine.
A figure appeared to my left.
My eyelids clamped shut.
A Bludger collided into my stomach.
"Oliver…"
I was falling.
My head was pounding. Oliver had fallen asleep on top of the bar. I smiled at the peaceful expression on his face, but I grew dizzy. It seemed like the copious amount of whiskey had caught up with me. Carefully, I shimmied out of his grasp, untangling my legs from his and removing the arm strewn over my stomach. My legs wobbled as I stood up, and I clutched my forehead in pain while stumbling up the stairs to Dad's flat.
I threw on one of Dad's large t-shirts that was piled, freshly laundered, on his sofa and then used the loo before I raided his medicine cabinet for some aspirin. I had left my wand in the bar, and I felt too dazed to perform magic at the moment. I downed the pills with some water from the faucet and then stared at my reflection in Dad's mirror.
For a brief moment, I could not help but to grin. I had wanted Oliver for so long, even if I tried not to admit it to myself.
Yet, I could not help but to feel a bit disgusted with myself. I had sex with Oliver on my father's bar right after Dad had a massive heart attack.
Suddenly, my brightened cheeks, glassy eyes, and messy hair looked shameful.
I rammed my fist forward and punched the mirror, cracking it and sending shards of glass to the floor.
The pain felt good; it distracted me from my headache for a moment before I hissed and started cursing my own stupidity.
I floundered around, searching for medical supplies and then wrapped my hand up.
Now my hand throbbed in addition to my head.
The first thing that registered in my brain was that I must be awake because everything hurt. Breathing was difficult, so I could guess that I had cracked some ribs, at best. My head, especially, stung; it felt like it was spinning around on an out-of-control Zenith.
With a painful tug, I remembered the crash. Reliving the moment in my memory, I could feel the Bludger crash into my body, obliterating my abdomen. Then, all I could recall was falling.
I realized that I must have landed at some point because now I seemed to be lying down. Sighing with relief when my toes complied with my wiggling orders, I consoled myself with the knowledge that I was not paralyzed.
I blinked a few times, but my eyelids felt too heavy to lift, as though each eyelash weighed forty thousand stones.
Rustling around in the bed, I discovered that I was wearing a thin gown. My ears began to unclog, and I heard the faint sound of beeping. My thoughts were speeding up now, and I could smell that weird sterile scent of metal as my haziness lifted.
"The match!" I hissed, pain shooting through my middle as my breathing kicked up. "What happened with the match?"
"We—we lost," a shaky voice answered me.
The darkness took me over again, bringing me out of consciousness.
The aspirin eventually kicked in, and I was able to concentrate more fully. I drank a glass of water and stuffed my face with Dad's pumpernickel bread he kept in the pantry before returning down to the bar.
Oliver was no longer sleeping. In fact, he was nowhere in sight.
I searched around the bar and even went back up to check Dad's flat before resigning to the knowledge that he had left, without as much as a note.
As I, pink-faced, collected my clothing from various positions around the bar, I noted that he had taken his clothes with him. It was as though the night had never happened.
I sat on top of the bar and looked around.
Oliver had even managed to clean up the broken bottles off the floor.
I supposed I should be grateful that he did such a thorough job of cleaning up after himself. I would have hated if he had left a mess behind.
Eventually, I got off the bar and went back upstairs into Dad's flat. Though I was beyond exhausted, I had difficulty falling asleep until at last everything turned dark.
My consciousness phased into hazy awareness. I dimly understood that I must have fallen asleep last time. My headache, though still present, was much more manageable, and I was able to fully open my eyes.
I looked around as I carefully pulled myself into an almost sitting position, wincing as my ribs twinged.
"Oh, thank Jesus, you're awake."
"Daddy?" I asked stupidly, turning towards the voice. "Is that you?"
"Careful, Hayles," he warned me. "Healer Baccari said you're not supposed to move too much. Your ribs are still tender from all the potions they used to fix 'em."
I reached down to run my fingers against my side and was met with thick bandages. I wanted to cry out in pain, but I bit back the sounds. I did not want Dad to worry. "How are you doing?"
"Hayles, you fell out of the sky, and you're worried about me?"
"How are you doing?" I pressed in annoyance as it became a bit harder to seem unaffected by the pain.
"All righ', all righ'," Dad answered with a sigh. "I'm supposed to be released tomorrow. They just want to run a few last-minute tests to make sure that the ticker is working the way it's s'posed to."
I nodded as I relaxed back against my pillow. Dad continued to talk, but I struggled to hear him until eventually I fell back asleep.
I only slept for a few hours before showering, changing into some old clothes I had stashed in Dad's flat, and returning to the hospital. Because the sun had barely risen, none of my brothers were there yet. Nora was gone; one of the workers told me she had gone home with Carter for some sleep and was not expected back till much later that day.
Healer Baccari met with me before letting me in to see Dad to explain his condition. Now that Dad was out of imminent danger, Healer Baccari seemed much jollier and behaved more like the bloke I knew from going with Dad to his checkups. He cracked a few jokes that were likely very funny but left me feeling hollow as yesterday's events dwelled in my mind.
I tried to stay in the present moment, but I kept wondering why Oliver had left and whether I would see him soon.
Dad was still sleeping when I was allowed to see him, but it was a different sleep than yesterday's near comatose. There was drool hanging from his parted lips, and I was comforted by his heavy snores.
I pulled up a chair next to his bed and held his hand as he slept.
After about an hour, Ayden showed up, looking disheveled but better rested than I had seen him yesterday.
"How are things?" Ayden asked.
"Healer Baccari said—"
"Yeah, I know," Ayden cut me off. "I met with him just now, and he gave me an update. I was actually asking about you, Hayles. You look like hell."
"Thanks."
"Did you sleep at all? Shit, I should have taken you home with me. Where'd you go?"
"Dad's," I answered him, trying not to think about lying on top of the bar with Oliver positioned over me. "I'm fine. Where are Brendan and Collin?"
"I reckon they'll be here soon. Hopefully they won't be as cranky as you."
When I woke up for the third time, it didn't take me as long to remember where I was. Immediately, I searched the left side of the room, looking for Dad.
"He's not here," Ayden told me.
I turned to see him, Collin, and Brendan sitting in chairs by the window.
"They took him to go run a test. He'll be back soon."
I nodded and pulled myself so that I was almost sitting. The brightness of the room assaulted my eyes. "Urgh, what time is it?"
"A little after noon," answered Collin. "You're lucky I love you, Hayles. Work is on my ass for all the time I've missed for hospital trips. I'm skipping lunch for this."
"Yeah, well, you're obviously really suffering," said Brendan pointedly.
I looked over to see that Collin was helping himself to my lunch tray. He spooned a bit of pudding into his mouth and then frowned in distaste. "Merlin," he grumbled. "No wonder everyone is sick here. They call this rubbish food? They're mad."
"Just be grateful they let us bunk Hayley and Dad in the same room," Ayden chastised him while smacking the back of his head so that the spoon fell out of his mouth.
"Well, I'll be joining them soon if I don't get some proper sustenance!" whined Collin as he stood up and came closer towards my bed. "You know, Hayles, I realize you're injured and all, but do you reckon you could have done this some other time? I mean talk about riding on Dad's coattails. A fatal accident that lands you in St. Mungo's. Honestly! Where's the originality?" He laughed when I stuck my tongue out at him before spotting something on my nightstand. "Maybe she's got something good in one of those," he mused before opening up the assorted get-well packages.
"Those are mine?" I asked.
"Your teammates came in to check on you before," Brendan explained, seeing as Collin was too preoccupied with tearing apart tissue paper. "And they left a few things. Nora came by, too, with Carter. She left—"
"Double chocolate fudge brownies," finished Collin reverently, holding up a thick bin, wrapped with a red ribbon, signifying that it must be Nora's handiwork. "Er, Hayley, you don't mind, right?"
While it pained me to see anything Nora be devoured by my undeserving berk of a brother, my ribs hurt too much for me to even contemplate eating anything at the moment.
Collin took my silence for acquiescence and shoved a brownie sloppily into his mouth as he continued to rifle through my gifts. He punched the air when he found a bottle of bourbon. "Jackpot!"
"Let me guess," I said, examining the bottle he was holding. "Sammy Willins?"
"How'd you know?"
Thinking about that night when Sammy told me about Puddlemere tryouts many months before, I sighed and sank back into my pillow. "He always orders bourbon."
Fletcher gave me the rest of the week off to take care of Dad. I had a feeling that Richard Cooke might have intervened on my behalf after I owled him a letter explaining the situation.
I spent my days at the hospital with Dad. Whether he was awake or not, I felt better being around him, even if I had no actual training to help him.
At night, though, the staff had no choice but to kick me out. Not quite ready to go back home, I had been going to McCoy's and manning the bar for a few hours each night.
Ayden, Brendan, and Collin stopped by when they could to help, but I did most of the work. I wanted to do it because I knew Dad would want the pub open.
His customers asked frequently about his condition and gave me parcels and notes to bring him at the hospital.
Fixing drinks did not feel as cathartic as it did before. McCoy's used to be a perfect glass of whiskey. Now that Oliver and I had left things the way they were, however, being there was like drinking an appletini.
"Oh! Lass! I ordered a gin and tonic! This is a rum and Coke!"
"Oh, shit. Sorry," I apologized quickly as I rushed over to the older bloke with yellow teeth. "I'll get a new one for you—on the house."
As I poured his drink, I could hear him grumbling about poor service.
"Oi, you dunderhead! Shut your trap. Sean's in the hospital. Give the girlie a break."
Collin and Ayden had to go back to work, but Brendan hung around until Dad came back from his tests. We spent a few minutes sorting through my gift baskets.
Brendan helped himself to my brownies, as well, as I re-read the note Fletcher had sent me.
McCoy,
Rest up and get better quickly. We've got a match against the Tornadoes coming up and can't afford another loss if we want to be in good standings for the Euro Cup.
Fletcher
"Whazzat?" asked Brendan, tearing the note from my hands.
"Oi!" I complained but could not grab it back without hurting my abdomen.
Brendan read the note and then tossed it in the bin. "Wanker," he spat. "Who the hell does he think he is?"
"The coach of Puddlemere United, an internationally ranked professional Quidditch team?"
"Well, I think he's a right git, as if he really needed to boss you around while you're in the hospital after nearly killing yourself playing Quidditch. Doesn't he care about that, hmm?"
My heart warmed at his anger. "Oi, Brendan, is that you admitting you love me?"
"Oh, shut it, Hayles."
"And we're back to normal." I looked over to eye the cleared table to see if any more packages were there, perhaps charmed to be invisible.
"Expecting anything from anyone?"
"What? No."
"You know, that bloke stopped by to check on you."
My heart raced. "He did?"
"Yeah. Dad had a good time talking to that Jack fellow. How many boyfriends do you got?"
Jack and Connor were pretty quiet during the prep time before the match. Connor, always a good character judge, sensed that I needed some space. Jack, however, came up to me almost as soon as I entered the pitch to mollycoddle me. He handed me a bag of jelly beans with a hesitant expression, as though he was afraid I might break at any moment.
"Here," he said gently. "I special ordered them to only contain comfort-food-flavored beans. There's chocolate and mashed potatoes and warm milk in there."
"Thanks, Jack," I replied as I clutched the bag to my chest.
"How's your dad doing?"
"Better. Not going to be running marathons anytime soon, but better."
"I tried to come visit you at the hospital, but they wouldn't tell me what ward he was in."
I thought of how Oliver had bribed the Welcome Witch to get in and briefly wondered whether Jack had tried that. "Yeah, it was a closed ward."
Jack pulled me into a hug. "I know our situation is a bit awkward right now, Hayley, but if you need anything, I'm here for you."
Dad came back from his tests, and Healer Baccari sat down to talk to me about my condition. He explained that I had suffered from some head trauma from the fall in addition to cracking several important ribs.
However, he assured me that recovery was speedily progressing, and that I would be able to leave the next day with Dad.
"When can I play Quidditch again?" I asked.
"Well, you might want to wait a couple of weeks."
"Weeks? But we've got a match against the Tornadoes on Saturday! Isn't there something you can do?"
"Physically, there's no reason why you couldn't play. However, I think it would be extremely inadvisable to do so. Really, Hayley, I know it's important to you, but isn't your health more important than a game?"
Bryce, displaying his wonderful lack of tact, joked with me as I entered the girls' locker room. "If I had a daughter with your legs, Hayles, I'd probably have a heart attack, too."
I really tried to be cross with him, but I could not help but to crack a smile—the first in what felt like days.
Once inside, I began changing into my Quidditch robes. Des took her spot beside me and wrapped her bloody hands normally. She gave me a nod in acknowledgement but did not say much else.
She did offer me access to her punching bag, but I declined. Running was more my forte.
Subtly, I tried to ask her about what the team had been up to while I was away.
"Well, Jack has been a bit of a mess," she said frankly. "He thinks it was somehow his fault that your dad got sick."
"And that contains logic how?"
"Search me," she replied. "But that boy was raised on guilt. Mothers, Hayley. They do a number on you-er, sorry."
I shrugged. "It's cool."
Des punched her wrapped fist into the locker wall. "No, it isn't. Fuck. When did I turn into Bryce?"
I listened to Des's grumblings for a few minutes before my patience ebbed away. "Have you seen Oliver lately?"
"I think he's padlocked himself into the Lab. I haven't seen him leave this place all week. Why?" she asked pointedly, seeing at once through my bullshit attempt at nonchalance.
"No reason," I lied coolly.
Des must have really felt bad for me because she let it drop.
As the afternoon grew later, my stomach began to grumble. Dinner involved strained peas and a mushy substance that seemed like it was supposed to stand for meat. I pushed it around on my tray while my stomach gurgled in hunger.
To my unexpected pleasure, Des dropped in while Dad was out to have yet another test done. She sank down onto a chair beside my bed and propped her muddy boots onto my hospital bed's rails.
"How's tricks?"
"Well, you know, I'm still breathing, and the heart still ticks."
"So five by five, then?"
"Sure," I replied with a laugh.
Des nodded and then scanned the room quickly as she flicked a bit of her hair out of her eyes. Then, she reached into her dragon skin jacket and pulled out a bag. "Here," she said as she tossed it to me.
I reached up to catch it instinctually, wincing when my ribs protested.
"Still sore?"
"I'm fine," I insisted.
"Not bleeding, right?"
I laughed as I began to open the bag. "So there's nothing to complain about—damn." My eyes fluttered close as I smelled the grease coming off the burger and fries.
"I figured you'd be hungry. I had to come here once to get treated from a griffin injury. I bloody hate hospitals. Shit food and ruddy gowns that don't cover your ass cause being sick means you fucking have to show everyone the goods."
Des continued to gripe as I stuffed my face. I had to take smaller bites than normal for it to go down, but it was so worth it.
After I finished eating, Des shifted around uncomfortably.
"What?" I demanded.
Des sighed and then pulled out a bag from her jacket and placed it in my lap.
Carefully, I opened it and found the splintered bits of my Zenith. My lip quivered, and I felt a pain in my ribs worse than getting hit by that Bludger.
Des thoughtfully looked away as I clutched the broken bits of my faithful broom to my chest.
"That's why I gave you the burger first," Des quipped dryly after about a minute.
I took a deep breath and then forced determination onto my face. "How's the team?"
After spending a solid chunk of time thoroughly trash talking the Harpies Beaters and avowing to break their noses to avenge my injury, Des caught me up on everything Fletcher was saying about our chances for the Euro Cup. I listened eagerly, biting my tongue whenever I felt like interrupting with a question.
"So, as long as we win our next four matches, we should be okay."
"What does Fletcher think our chances are?"
"Well, we've beaten the Tornadoes already this year. The Magpies can be tricky, but I reckon Bridget will help with that. I've always thought the Gorodok Gargoyles were hyped up more than they should be. The Wasps might do us in, though."
I frowned when I remembered the loss. "How's morale?"
"Straight up, H, it's not that good. I don't want to get all up in your shit, but is there—did something happen between—"
Des did not have time to finish her question because a healer came into the room to check on me, and she had to spring out of her chair to hide the evidence of my dinner.
Dad, however, smelled it almost as soon as he came back to the room. "All right, girl, who brought you real food?" he demanded once the Healer exited the room.
"Des," I told him with a sigh, too weary to lie.
"Do you reckon she could get any more?"
"Dad!"
Dad laughed weakly. "Sorry, I know. Healer Baccari says I've got to take my diet restrictions more seriously. I reckon if I had listened to you in the first place, we wouldn't be here right now."
"Dad," I began.
"No," he cut me off. "Don't feel bad for me, Hayles. It's my own bloody fault. You kids need a parent, and I'm mucking things up just for a few cooked reubens. Sure, corned beef is God's gift to the Irishmen, but I love you and your brothers more than that. So bring on the rabbit food."
I grinned.
"But you got to promise me that you won't fly so reckless next match. Hell, Hayles, you scared the shit out of me. They had to come change the bed and everything."
"That's disgusting."
"I was joking."
I sighed and fiddled with my bed rails. "You're the one who told me to play." It was true. I had offered to let someone from Reserves take my spot, but Dad absolutely refused. He said he would not allow me in his hospital room ever again if I did not get onto that pitch and fly.
"Yeah, well, I thought it was the best thing. Still think so. Next time, I'd just like to see you win the damn match."
As we were all huddled in the locker room, I tried to catch Oliver's eye, but he was staring straight ahead, waiting with a fierce sort of anticipation for his name to be called.
I felt a bit of nervousness, not unlike that I experienced at my first match. Even though I had only missed about four days of practice, I still felt like I was going into the match wrong—like someone had put a hex on me.
I tried to think about flying tactics and how I should adjust my throw due to the rain, but I could not concentrate.
"I do hope it stops raining," Bridget mused beside me. "I didn't have a chance to put extra pins in my hair."
The next day, Brendan came to help Dad back to his flat; Ayden could not get away from the kids and Collin had work.
"So I got stuck with yeh, Dad," he teased as he started swirling him around in the wheelchair Healer Baccari brought.
"Oi! Watch it, yeh great brute," Dad chided. "I'm still delicate."
Brendan sent me a nonplussed look, and I could not help but to laugh. I was feeling much better this morning; something in the potions they had given me must have taken effect. Dressed in some clothes Carter had picked up for me from the flat, I was seated in my bed, feet jangling against the rail in anxiety.
They offered to wait around for me, but I told them to go on ahead. After nearly a week in the hospital, I knew how badly Dad wanted to head home.
Dad protested, but I won him over when I assured him that Nora would be by to process my discharge just as soon as her shift was over.
"All right, Hayles, but owl me if anything happens and when you get home."
"You got it, Dad. Now go before you start to smell like St. Mungo's."
"Start to!" echoed Brendan with a wink at me before eagerly pushing Dad's chair back onto its hind wheels. "Let's do this thing!"
I waited fretfully for about twenty minutes for Nora to show up—she had promised she would be done twelve minutes ago—when someone walked through the door.
I was quite surprised to see that it was Bridget, looking devastatingly beautiful, as always. I did my best to hide my astonishment and invited her to pop a squat on the chair next to my bed.
Bridget sat down and eyed the pile of ransacked baskets on the nightstand—all of what Collin had not managed to swallow.
"Did you get my basket?"
"Yes," I replied. "I didn't even need to see the card. Thanks for the Cooke Milkshake Magic Maker."
"I included some coconut oil in there too."
"Awesome."
I waited patiently for her to say something while fiddling with the bandages along my torso. I froze in shock when Bridget flung her arms around me in a tight hug while I was still hunched over.
"Oh, Hayley," she bemoaned. "I just feel so wretched."
My mind immediately jumped to Oliver, and I panicked at the thought of her finding out what had happened between us. Yet, her grip on me did not lessen, and I wondered if this was perhaps an attempt to suffocate me.
However, Bridget did let go of me, and I, coughing up her sweet perfume, was both astonished and alarmed when she emerged with tears in her eyes.
"I mean," she continued with a sniff, "I can't believe this happened in the first place."
"Uhh, Bridge, thanks, I guess…but I don't bloody have any idea what you're talking about."
Bridget gave me a sympathetic smile. "Don't repress, Hayley. It will only become worse. Everyone needs a good cry every once in a while. Sometimes, if I haven't cried in a while, I listen to this one song that always makes me think of—anyway, I just wanted to say that if you need anything—anything at all—I'm here for you."
"Oh, er, thanks, Bridget," I said as I awkwardly patted her on the back.
"I just can't believe it. It's completely unfathomable. First, your dad has a heart attack, and your life goes through the ringer. And then you wind up in the hospital yourself!"
"I know," I said dully, thinking of Collin. "How unoriginal."
"Maybe you should take some time off. You were in a right state at that Harpies match as it was. You have more important things to worry about."
"Well, it is Quidditch."
Bridget rolled her eyes. "Yes, but I'd curse John Fletcher beyond the veil if he thought he could get me to leave my father so that I could catch a ruddy ball."
"Dad's doing a lot better," I told her. "He just left the hospital less than a half hour ago. Plus, I signed a contract, you know. Fletch was already pretty great with letting me skip practice this week to be with Dad and then for my stupid injury. I can't believe I let that bloody Bludger get me. Do you know which Harpies's Beater it was?"
Bridget patted my shoulder. "You must be so shaken. I don't know what I would do if Daddy was every seriously ill."
I shrunk out of her grasp. Frankly, I did not want to talk about the hospital or Dad anymore. I really just wanted to go back to thinking about Quidditch.
"Especially after—" Bridget paused suddenly and grew very somber.
I stopped adjusting my elbow pads and eyed her curiously.
Bridget noticed my gaze and then plastered a dewy smile onto her face. "Well, of course, you don't know. I haven't told you. I'm just surprised no one has mentioned it before, seeing as it's something we both have in common." Bridget paused again, leaving me in confusion, and then took a shaky breath. "My mum is dead too."
My jaw dropped, and I sat there quite flabbergasted. I tried to do something comforting, but words and actions failed me.
"It's okay," she offered, obviously sensing my ineptitude. "No need to say anything. There's never really anything to say with these things, you know?"
I nodded. "What happened?"
Bridget smiled sadly. "When I was sixteen, Mum got sick. It was nothing really. Just a simple cold. I had been sick earlier that month. I caught the flu before I went home for Christmas, and I must have spread it to her. She picked up a tonic from Diagon Alley and took it that night. She would have been fine, but she collapsed after taking it. After that, she would fall asleep for a long time. This happened for a few weeks before Dad and I took her to St. Mungo's. It wasn't a tonic. Someone had botched up the Draught of Living Death and then mislabeled it. She fell asleep once and then went into a coma. Some of the best Healers in the world treated her, trying to get her to wake up, but there was nothing they could do. She died six months later."
My stomach dropped, and I folded my hands in my lap.
"A part of me wishes that we had had more time together, but she was suffering. Mum loved everything about life. She was so vivacious. She used to call me her 'firecracker.' She would have hated sleeping forever, I think. It was a blessing that she went when she did." She wiped away a tear that had slipped down her cheek.
"My mum died suddenly," I felt compelled to blurt out. "Aneurysm."
"That's good," Bridget said morbidly. "I think. I mean, I've only lost the one mum, but I think it'd be better not to know it was coming."
"So there's no waiting," I agreed.
"Exactly," replied Bridget as her tone turned more matter-of-fact and she wiped spare tears from her eyes. "Well, I just wanted you to know that I'm here for you. If anything ever happened to Daddy. I don't even have siblings like you do…I mean, I know that he can be rather a character sometimes, but he's my dad."
I nodded, knowing just how she felt.
"So I'm really happy that your dad is doing better, Hayley. I'm really glad that he—woke up."
"Thanks, Bridge. For the record, you know, I'm really sorry about your mum."
"Me too," I replied.
Bridget smiled and gave me another hug. "Well, it's not like I'm alone. I've got Daddy and Oliver." She frowned as the name left her lips.
"O-Oliver?" I asked.
"Yes, though he's been in quite a mood lately. I just don't know what is wrong with him. He wants to break up, and then he doesn't. He shuts himself up in the Lab and won't do anything but grunt at people all week. I think he might have cracked!"
I choked on my own spit.
"Oh, that's sweet of you to be so concerned, but don't worry about my love troubles right now, Hayley!"
Bridget left shortly after, and I was left alone to contemplate what she had told me. Despite the broken ribs and head trauma, I felt more injured by my actions: I had had sex with someone else's boyfriend.
And not just anyone: Bridget Cooke, a girl whose mum died. She visited me in the hospital and gave me coconut oil, and I slept with her boyfriend.
"Hayley? Ready to go?"
I looked up to see Nora smiling at me.
She frowned. "Dorogoi, are you okay?"
"Can you just take me home now, please?"
I was flying around the pitch when a figure appeared to my left. Lightning crashed, and I turned to watch it. I spotted Bridget flying and felt a pain in my side.
I knew that I had betrayed her friendship, and in that instant, the guilt consumed me.
For just a moment, I lost my focus, and suddenly a Bludger came out of nowhere and collided into my stomach.
All the air rushed out of my lungs as I lost my grip on my Zenith.
I was falling.
A/N:
Hello, lovelies.
It's the first day of fall (how apt of a pun). I realize that this chapter probably is not what you want. Frankly, my dears, I don't give a damn.
Life continues. Two chapters left. I finished writing this story about a month ago so I'm excited about ending it. I've been thinking about starting a blog since my fanfic career is two weeks from over. Would anyone have an interest in reading that?
I enjoy all the reviews and hearing your answers to the questions (though, of course it is just a shameless gimmick and I much prefer story analysis). Soo:
What do you want to be for Halloween? What's your favorite dessert? What Quidditch position would you play? Describe your first kiss.
This seems a bit lame. I think Danica writes better notes than me. Too bad she is too busy having a life all the time (the nerve).
-Molly
"Oi, what's up her ass? Reckon she's on the rag?"
"Shut it, Bryce! Just because you can be an ass all the time doesn't mean you should."
"Course, Desiree. Wouldn't want to work my ass too hard, eh? We'll wait till later. Carry on, Molls!"