Honestly, I’m not sure if I’m ready for messages from the people closest to me, already hanging on by a thin thread. After years of shoving every single feeling down, those fuckers are all clawing to the surface at the same time. I don’t want to be alone with my racing thoughts. She has already seen some of my lowest moments, so what’s one more?
Ivy clears her throat and begins to read. “Teddy, what the hell, man? I heard about the hit…Why hasn’t anyone said anything?...Why aren’t you answering?...I’m losing my mind over here.”
The words tighten my lungs and it’s hard to breathe steadily. I can hear his frantic and terrified voice in every syllable.
She keeps going. “These are separate messages all sent one after another like the previous ones.Please wake up, okay? I need you to be alright, brother…Call me the second you can. Or Em. Or anyone…Then,fuck, I’m so mad at Farrington. That man needs to be taken behind the shed.”
The silence after her words is deafening. My throat burns, and I swallow hard, forcing myself to ask, “And after?”
“Let me find something more recent,” she says. “These are from the day you woke up:Em called me. She said you’re awake. Thank fucking God...Don’t scare me like that again, Seaborn…I’ll come visit soon. I don’t care if you tell me not to…Someone’s gotta make sure you’re still a pain in the ass.”
A watery laugh escapes me. “That’s more like him.”
“He sounds like he cares about you a lot.”
“He does. More than I probably deserve,” I whisper, trying my best to keep the tears from falling.
“Sometimes people love and care about you because you’re theirs. It’s not about deserving. It’s about belonging.”
Her comforting words make me feel warm and fuzzy. “What does Foster have to say? That should bring some comic relief,” I say, brushing a thumb across the corner of my eye.
“Is he really the jokester he seems to be? I follow him on social media and his updates are hilarious.”
“He’s even worse in real life, trust me.”
“What the…” she mutters. “He sent a string of donut emojis and a squirrel? Seriously? What the fuck does that even mean?”
I can’t help but laugh, the tension in my body easing at hearing her swear. “That means he misses me,” I explain with a chuckle, leaning back against the pillows.
“And how did you guess that?”
“The knowledge comes from playing in the same team with him for the past seven years. What is everyone else saying?” I ask, wanting to just rip the Band-Aid off.
“Jensen texted a few times.” Her voice hitches on his name, betraying her a little. And weirdly, her fangirling helps in themoment. It lifts some of the weight off my chest, letting me breathe easier. “The latest says,you’re still part of the team. Don’t forget it. We’ll keep your locker the way you left it.”
The locker room flashes in my mind—gear crammed into every available space, tape rolls half-used on the floor, and sticks leaning like a crooked picket fence against the far wall. The air thick with sweat and body spray. Music blasting too loud, the bass rattling through the room. Foster and Lance bickering. Fuck, I truly miss it.
“Keep going,” I croak, every cell in my body preparing for the emotional hits of the remaining messages.
She scrolls some more. “From Zimmerman:Heal fast. It’s too quiet without you yelling at me during warm-ups.”
Instantly, I picture his stupid, lopsided grin from across the ice, my voice echoing through the rink. “Pick it up, Zimmer!” I’d bark at him, and he’d just skate past, laughing as he gives me the classic one-finger salute. My chest aches with the bittersweet memory.
“Lance,” she says, her tone softening.“Take your time. We’ve got your back. Love you, man.They all care, Teddy.”
“I know. That’s why I can’t see them yet. Not like this,” I rasp. “Could you help me send something to the team chat?”
“Of course. I’m ready whenever you are. Tap your left pointer finger and I start recording.”
A long, steady breath fills my lungs before following her instructions. “Hey guys, thanks for checking in. I’m so grateful for all your texts and well wishes…Doing okay, even if it’s still unclear whether hockey is in the cards for me in the future. I miss you all, but right now the focus is on recovery without visitors. Once things settle and I’m in a better place, I’ll be glad tosee you. Until then, keep playing your hearts out. I’ll be cheering from my hospital bed.”
When I finish, my hands are trembling. Ivy’s fingers close gently around mine, anchoring me like a dock in a storm. “Perfect,” she whispers.
Neither of us speaks for a long moment after. Breaking the silence, Ivy asks, “Want me to read their replies?”
“Yeah,” I breathe, even though every nerve in me is braced for another blow.
“From Zimmerman,Miss you too, brother. Don’t rush back. We’ve got this covered. Jensen replied,That’s our guy. Heal up, we’ll keep winning for you. Foster jokes,I’m eating donuts in your honor.”
