“Hey. Avery.” Davis elbowed me. “You good?”
“Yeah. Yeah.” I laughed softly and put my phone facedown on the table. “Just texting Early to find out where his sorry ass is.”
“Didn’t he say he and the missus are trying for a fourth?” Baddy shrugged. “Maybe he got, uh, waylaid?”
“Well,” Willie deadpanned, “that would answer the question about whether or not he’s coming.”
Everyone at the table groaned, and Davis gave Willie a shove.
I chuckled, half-expecting Leif to suddenly appear and ask what he’d missed. We would, of course, fill him in just so he could come up with some even snarkier remark to put Willie and Baddy in their places.
But he didn’t.
And my phone stayed quiet.
As I neared the bottom of my beer, something coiled in the pit of my stomach. This wasn’t like him, and I didn’t like it.
Especially when an hour had passed since he was supposed to be here, and my texts still hadn’t been read.
I pushed my stool back and got up, gesturing with my phone. “I’m going to step out and give Early a call.”
They all nodded, and I headed for the bar’s front door.
I was halfway there when the phone in my handvibrated with an incoming call. I looked at the screen, and I halted so abruptly, a server almost crashed into me.
Rachel.
I couldn’t explain the cold dread wrapping around my spine like frozen barbed wire.
God, please tell me he lost his phone again and he’s calling from his wife’s to let us know where he is.
But somehow, somewhere deep down…
I knew.
“Mrs. Erlandsson is in here.” The nurse pushed open a door markedPrivate Family Waiting Area, and she gestured for us to go inside.
As soon as I stepped into the room, Rachel was on her feet, and she threw her arms around my neck. She was shaking all over and sobbing against my shoulder, and I just closed my eyes and let her hold on for a moment.
I sensed my teammates around us, and someone put a hand on her shoulder. Someone else murmured that we’d stay with her as long as she needed us.
A couple of the other wives were here, too, their faces pale and full of worry as they sat around the chair Rachel had been occupying.
As she collected herself a little—as much as any wife could be expected to—she drew back and wiped her eyes with shaking hands. “Thank you guys for coming. It means a lot.”
“Of course.” I kept a hand on her shoulder. “Do they, um… Do they have any updates?”
Fresh tears well up and she pressed her lips together as she shook her head. “He’s still in surgery.”
My stomach somersaulted for about the fiftieth time since her voice had come through my phone.
“Leif’s in the hospital,”she’d sobbed.“I don’t know what happ—It’s bad, Avery. He’s… They said it’s really bad.”
Here in the waiting room, she swiped at her eyes again. “God, he’s going to be devastated if he can’t play anymore.”
I nodded numbly, as did my teammates. I had a feeling everyone in the room was thinking the same thing—if we focused on whether Leif would ever play hockey again, then we could ignore the bigger, uglier question. The question that had bile burning in the back of my throat.
We all settled into chairs, everyone exchanging worried glances in a room that was silent except for the occasional sniffle.
