Page 131 of Fighting Fate
"But you get what I'm saying, right?" he asks.
I nod, understanding fully.
"I'm sorry if I ever made you feel pressured about the NFL. That wasn't my intention. I just want you to be happy, healthy, and fulfilled in this life, whatever that looks like."
I notice the moisture in his eyes, a rare sight. "Something in your eyes, old man?" I tease, and he hastily wipes his eyes.
Mom joins us in a big group hug, a warm, comforting embrace. Looking over Dad's shoulder, I see the Suttons smiling at us through the glass doors. The moment overwhelms me with a wave of emotion.
I've done it. I've opened up to them, and it feels like a massive weight has been lifted.
But as I start to relax into this newfound acceptance, I pull back slightly. "You really mean all that?" I whisper, needing reassurance.
Mom leans in, her forehead touching mine and Dad's, reaffirming our bond. "Absolutely, Miles. We're here for you, in every way. Even if it means helping you win back a certain someone's heart."
Every part of me is screaming to run to Milli right now. I need to apologize, to explain how sorry I am for everything—for pushing her away, for not being there, for all the hurt. I want to tell her that I need her by my side, more than ever, as I gear up to fight cancer again. I want to show her that I can be better, that I'm truly sorry for being such a jerk, and that I can love her the way she truly deserves.
But just as I'm about to act on this urge, Dad gently steers me back to the table, his hands firm on my shoulders. "Let's hear more about the MCAT, son."
In spite of the rush of emotions and the urgency I feel about Milli, I smile at my dad. Sitting down, I start to share my plans, my aspirations to become Dr. Chasen. In this moment, surrounded by my family, I'm grounded by their support and love, even as part of me longs to make things right with Milli.
"Milli, are you ready?" Wyatt calls out, his voice bouncing off the walls of my dorm room, brimming with anticipation.
"Time to hustle, girl," Payson adds, stepping out of the bathroom in her robe, her hair cocooned in a towel. A mischievous glint sparkles in her eyes. "Brooke and I are your personal cheer squad today. And who knows, maybe we'll catch the eye of a charming teacher or a striking single dad?" She strokes her chin, pretending to ponder, her look teasingly faraway.
I smirk at her antics, even as I mentally picture Mr. Hanmann, the epitome of her "single dad" daydreams. Shaking my head, I focus on my bag, excitement for the dance competition bubbling within me. "You're going to love the Hanmann sisters' performance. They're absolutely breathtaking."
Payson's laugh is lighter than usual, filled with genuine admiration. "Of course they are. They've got the best teacher."
Her words widen my smile, filling me with a warm, proud glow. I've watched those girls transform under my guidance, and I can feel it—today's the day they shine.
As I sling my dance bag over my shoulder, I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror. Suddenly, Payson's hands rest reassuringly on my shoulders. Our eyes meet in the reflection, a moment of unspoken understanding passing between us.
"You're going to be incredible, Milli," she says softly, her hands briefly cupping my face in a gesture so tender it almost brings me to tears. "I'm so proud of you, especially after everything last semester. You're still here, stronger and more fabulous than ever."
She leans in, her cheek brushing against mine. "Remember our pact before college? You might have strayed a bit, but you didn't lose sight of what's important—your goals, your growth."
I nod, moved by her words. Her faith in me is a beacon, especially when I reflect on the tumult the past few months have been.
January has arrived in a flash, and with it, a mix of excitement and challenges. Juggling my studies, the dance competition, and the persistent thoughts of Miles have been a test. The mention of his name still sends a tremble through me, echoing memories of what was and the possibilities of what might have been.
Despite everything, I not only aced my classes, but all my students I tutored excelled brilliantly in theirs, too. It's a quiet triumph for me. As for the Hanmann sisters, they're absolutely dazzling on the dance floor, a testament to our collective dedication and effort.
Christmas passed in a blur. I steered clear of the usual holiday gatherings, particularly the Chasens' dinner. The mere thought of encountering Miles there was overwhelming. Did I consider keeping our tradition of exchanging gifts on Christmas Eve? Absolutely. But then, Miles left his present at my doorstep. Jerk. Imagine waking up on Christmas morning to find his gift waiting just outside my room, challenging every bit of my willpower not to cave.
What's more, he couldn't have chosen a better gift—a bouquet of books. It was as if he had a direct line to my heart, each book a perfect match for my literary tastes. I was struck by the depth of thought he put into it. It wasn't just about the books; it was about his understanding of my passion for narratives that weave tales of romance and adventure. It was a perfect gift, in its unique, book-lover's way.
And yes, I did reciprocate with a gift of my own. Tradition is tradition, after all. But whether he appreciated the custom-engraved "Dr. Chasen" stethoscope as much as I appreciated his gift, well, that remains a mystery.
"Milli, pick up the pace or we're going to miss it!" Wyatt's voice echoes down the hallway just as I'm stepping out of my dorm room. There he stands, effortlessly cool in tight black leather pants and a half-zipped sweatshirt emblazoned with our school's Panthers logo. Shaking my head with a smile, I close the door behind me and head toward the front entrance of our dorm building. "I'm coming, I'm coming," I call back, certain that he's either grinning or shaking his head in amusement. His concern is a constant, comforting presence.
We hop into my jeep, and as I fire up the engine and fling my bag into the backseat, I notice him shooting me an inquisitive glance. "What's with that expression?" I inquire, reversing out of the parking space.
"Just checking in. You ready for today?" he asks, rummaging through his bag.
His question irks me a bit. Why would he question my preparedness? After the chaotic close of last semester, I've hit the ground running this time around, meeting my goals early on. I give him an eyebrow raised in subtle skepticism.
"It's just a question, Milli," he says, hands raised defensively.