Daydream (Maple Hills, #3)(102)
Everyone is talking about the point of New Year’s resolutions. Poppy goes first. “I want to start journaling. I feel like I learn so much and I can never remember it.”
“I want to start Pilates,” Emilia says.
Russ takes a swig of his beer, a defeated air to him when he speaks. “I want to fix my relationship with Ethan.”
“I want to make my relationship with my dad worse,” Aurora says, lightening the mood. “And read the books on my TBR.”
Mattie clears his throat and looks only at Aurora when he speaks. “My resolution is to get VIP passes and access to the Fenrir paddock at the Nashville Grand Prix.”
Bobby nods. “That’s also my resolution.”
Kris joins them. “Mine, too.”
Cami goes next. “Mine is to be more toxic and make more men unhappy.”
Kris shakes his head as he sighs. “We’d be so good together if you only gave me a chance.”
She tilts her beer toward him and winks. “Keep dreaming.”
“Go on, Hen. What’s yours?” Russ asks. Halle lifts her head from my shoulder, apparently awake now.
Even though I knew they’d ask me eventually, I still didn’t know what I’d say. I’ve never set New Year’s resolutions because I never stick to anything. I can’t even stick to a routine of things I have to do.
I want to enjoy hockey again without all the anxieties that being captain has brought. I want to be a good friend to everyone, not constantly worrying that I’m on the brink of letting everyone down. I want to make Halle happy. I want to remember to check in on Anastasia more. To text people back. To not spiral when things get too bad. There are so many things I could say, but I don’t know how.
“I want to prove that Robbie is lying about his cat allergy.” The room laughs, the dopamine hits me the way it always does when I say the right thing. “Go on, Halle. Last one.”
“The TBR was a good one; I can’t remember the last time I read a book that wasn’t for book club or college. Be distracted less, maybe? Yeah. Be less distracted from my goals.”
Russ unmutes the rerun on the TV and the people in Times Square let us know it’s only one minute until midnight.
The countdown begins from ten and there’s one more thing I need to say. Lowering my mouth to Halle’s ear, I whisper low enough so only she can hear me. “You’re the best thing to happen to me this year.”
“That’s how I feel about you.”
She smiles, and the rush is better than everyone laughing at my joke, no question. And when the countdown gets to zero, I kiss her for the first time this year.
Chapter Thirty-Two HENRY
“STOP STARING AT ME.”
Halle doesn’t sound like my Halle when she snaps at me for the tenth time today. Her voice is rough, nasally, too, congestion making her sound like she’s trying to talk with a marshmallow up her nose.
When her head tilts up from its normal position of facedown in the pillow, the tip of her nose is pink, eyes watery with dark marks under them.
“You need to go to the doctor,” I tell her for the tenth time. One each for every time she’s told me to stop staring at her. “Why are you being so stubborn?”
She sniffs loudly. “Because you told me I had to start saying no to people. So, no.”
“I also said I didn’t mean say no to me.”
“I have a little bit of a cold or something. Whatever wiped everyone out two weeks ago has clearly finally reached me. I’m fine, Henry. It’ll pass, I promise.”
“Did all your sneezing give you a concussion? You started the epidemic that wiped everyone out. You’ve been sick all month; it isn’t normal. You need to go to the doctor.”
After telling me I was wrong all day on New Year’s Eve, Halle started complaining about feeling unwell on New Year’s Day. She said it was because she’d worked so many hours then stayed up late with me. She said it’d be worth it when she gets paid and can buy new clothes for her vacation. An unfortunate reminder for me that the vacation is still happening.
College restarting brought hockey with it, and despite my insisting she stay home to rest, Halle dragged herself to our Saturday game after we lost our first game of the year the day before. I’m pretty sure she slept on Poppy’s shoulder the entire time and didn’t see one second of play.
Calling her my lucky charm has made her superstitious, which, as our luck in her presence continues, the team is kind of feeding in to as well. We’ve played away for the past two weeks, and instead of using her time without me to sleep, she helped answer a cry for help from Enchanted when their weekend guy called in sick.
I pointed out that she probably gave it to him, which was not gratefully received.
“The doctor will tell me to rest,” she mumbles into the crook of her arm, not bothering to look at me. “I’m not vomiting anymore. And I’m not pregnant, if that’s what you’re worried about. I think my body is just rejecting me having such a stellar work ethic.”
I slow-blink at her even though she can’t see me. “I hadn’t even thought about that. I don’t think a symptom of pregnancy is looking like you’re on the brink of death.”
“You clearly haven’t seen Breaking Dawn.”