“What the fuck does that mean?” Maverick snaps. “You’re going to have to dumb it down for us.”
“He’s going to lose his leg above the knee,” Lexi Armstrong, the team’s athletic trainer, tells us, and hell breaks loose.
“Jesus fuck,” Ethan yells, kicking a wall. Grant is quick to wrap his arms around his best friend’s stomach before he does something stupid. He tosses a look my way, apologizing on Ethan’s behalf, but all I can see is Hannah. The same eyes, the same mouth, and my hands curl into fists at my sides. “This is the best fucking hospital in the city and you can’t fix his fucking leg? What the fuck do they pay you for?”
There’s a conversation about Riley’s surgery and recovery time. I screw my eyes shut, transported back to my days as a player when I suffered a career-ending injury: a blade slicing above my knee. The stitches, the pain, and the discussions that happened after, trying to figure out how quickly I could get back on the ice.
The team rushed me. I wasn’t completely healed when they put me back in the lineup, and I wasn’t the same player. My days of professional hockey were over.
If there’s any chance of salvaging Riley’s career, I’m going to make sure we take his recovery slow.
I want to give him the chance I never had.
“Will he be able to skate again?” Maverick asks.
The doctor gives us a smile that tells me everything I need to know.
No.
He won’t.
Everything he’s ever known about himself is gone, and none of us will be able to help him get it back.
I should’ve answered the fucking phone.
The guys disperse after hearing that news to grieve in their own ways. I drift off to the side, taking a seat in a hard plastic chair. I stare at the floor, wondering what the fuck I do now when a phone rings.
“Hello?” Grant’s voice. Shaky. Broken. “Hey, Han.”
Of course she’s calling to check on him because she’s good and wonderful and the bright light in pitch-black dark.
I want to scream. I want to move far away from him, but I find myself leaning back. Trying to catch parts of their conversations while still feeling like a piece of shit.
“You heard? I’m not surprised. The internet is already picking up the story and publishing photos. I’m doing okay. Riley is breathing, but he’s going to lose his leg.” Grant pauses, a sob rushing out of him. “This is the worst night of my life.”
Mine too, I want to say.Tell your sister I’m sorry.
“I’ll call when I leave the hospital. Yeah. Sure. Love you too.”
There’s a long stretch of silence. I put my elbows on my knees, burying my face in my hands. I’m not equipped to handle this. A situation like this one was never talked about in any of the personal development books I read, and I don’t know how the hell we go forward from here.
A tap on my shoulder stops me from spiraling. I lift my chin, wiping my eyes.
“Coach?”
Grant’s voice wobbles again. I look over my shoulder and find him sitting in the chair behind me. Curled shoulders. Tear-stained cheeks and red-rimmed eyes, and he doesn’t look likethe kid we drafted five years ago. He looks like a man that’s been through hell.
“Hey, Everett,” I say. “Want me to grab you a water?”
“No. Not thirsty.” He points to my chest. “Your shirt is on inside out.”
“Oh.” I glance down. There’s a smudge of Hannah’s lipstick on the collar, and I want to burn the thing to ash. “Thanks.”
“I’m worried about Riley.” His bottom lip quivers. A new wave of tears hit him, and I’m out of my seat in an instant. Making my way over to his side and sitting next to him. “I want him to be okay.”
“I worried about him too.” I put a hand on his shoulder. “The doctors are going to do a good job taking care of him.”
“He’s one of my best friends. All the guys are, but Riley is special. Yeah, he’s good on the ice, but he listens when I need to vent. He gives me advice. He’s a nice guy.” A quiet laugh followed by a sniff. “Even when I flirted with Lexi. He has such a crush on her.” His chuckle fades away. “Guess this is a reminder we should tell people how we feel about them. Things can change in the blink of an eye.”
