Chapter 26 – Hold Me, Please
Andrea stood just outside the hospital room, her hand hovering over the doorknob.
She could hear the muffled sounds of a daytime TV show playing inside, and faintly, the soft clink of a water pitcher being set down. Her heart beat faster than it had on the bus ride over. She had rehearsed what she might say, but now her throat felt dry.
Then she opened the door.
Sheik looked up instantly. He was sitting upright, leg propped on a cushion, wearing a worn hoodie and that familiar tired smile. His eyes widened when he saw her.
She didn't say anything.
She dropped her bag on the chair. Walked straight to him.
And hugged him—tight. Not a polite hug, not a cautious one. She wrapped her arms around his neck and pressed her face against his shoulder, holding on like the world might crack open if she let go.
Sheik let out a soft breath. His hands moved slowly around her waist, pulling her closer, anchoring himself in the feeling of her. The warmth. The scent of paint still clinging to her sweater. Her heartbeat thudding against his chest. All of it reminded him: She's here. This is real.
"I didn't think you'd come," he said into her hair.
"I couldn't not come," she whispered back.
They stayed like that for a long moment. Just breathing. Just holding on.
When they finally pulled back, Andrea's eyes were glassy, but her voice was steady. "You scared me, Sheik."
He smiled a little. "I scared myself too."
She sat down beside his bed, brushing his hair back from his forehead. "How bad is it, really?"
"Out for the season. Maybe longer. Depends on the rehab." He exhaled sharply. "Scouts lost interest. Coach says not to give up, but I can see it in his eyes."
Andrea didn't offer false hope. Instead, she took his hand and laced their fingers together.
"Then we find another way. Together."
He blinked, surprised by the steadiness in her tone.
"You think I'm strong," he said quietly.
"You are," she said. "Even when you're broken."
Sheik looked at her then—not like she was his girlfriend, or the girl who had always cheered him on. He looked at her like she was home. The only thing in the world that still made sense.
"I missed you," he said.
Andrea smiled. "I missed me too. The version of me who feels most like herself when she's with you."
He leaned forward and kissed her forehead gently. "Stay a while?"
"I brought snacks and bad movies," she said, lifting her bag from the chair. "I'm not going anywhere."
She pulled the blanket up over his legs. He rested his head against her shoulder, and for the first time since the injury, Sheik felt like everything was going to be okay.
Not because soccer was guaranteed. But because love—real, honest, hold-you-tight-when-you're-scared kind of love—was.