Riley closes her eyes and settles into the pillow. I swiftly exit her bedroom and let the door click shut.
Out in the living room, I check my phone and notice that there hasn’t been any response from Renthrow about the stomach medication. He’s probably busy taking care of Cordelia and doesn’t have time to read his messages.
Alright then.
I need another solution. I hated seeing Riley in pain tonight. She’ll need medicine just in case she gets nauseous again.
Should I drive to the pharmacy? How will I get back into her apartment? I don’t want to wake Riley and disturb her rest and I also don’t want to take her keys without permission.
Back in the city, there were rideshares and errand apps that made problems like this a non-issue, but I doubt there’s even a twenty-four-hour pharmacy open in Lucky Falls.
Undeterred, I go through all the apps until I find one that has a rider available and willing to buy the medication and deliver it all the way here to Lucky Falls. It’ll take them about an hour.
Since I’ll be in her apartment for an hour, I start looking for things I can do to make Riley’s life easier.
The first thing I notice is the clothes tossed haphazardly over her couch. There’s dust on her cabinet in the corner and on her TV stand. Plus, there’s a mountain of dishes in the sink.
A wry smile forms on my lips. I’ve been in Riley’s auto shop. The building is old, but each work station is pristine. There’s no book out of place, no dust, no grime. It’s impeccable. She’s probably too tired from working all day to then clean her own space.
I take on the task and get to work, folding her clothes and setting them on the edge of the sofa. I dust off her shelves and all wooden surfaces. When I’m done with that, I sweep the floors and then wash all the dishes.
The dishes take the longest. I don’t want to make too much noise so I move slowly and gingerly. Thankfully, Riley’s door remains tightly shut and I take that as a good sign that she’s sleeping.
As I lay out her wash cloth to dry, I hear a knock on the door. Zooming around the counter, I open it before the errand runner can knock again and accept the plastic bag he shoves into my hands.
“Thanks, man.” I smile.
His jaw drops and he points at my face. “Hey, aren’t you…?”
I press a finger to my lips.
“Nathan Campbell?” He says in a quiet but exuberant voice. “What are you doing in this nowhere town, man?”
“I’m playing hockey,” I say.
“That’s what’s up.” The guy grins “I read that you’d retired ‘cause your leg is all whacked-up now. I heard them talking about it on the sports channel.”
I just smile politely.
“Can I get a picture, man?”
I step into the hallway, situate us so that Riley’s room door and surroundings aren’t in the picture and smile for the selfie.
The rider enthusiastically thanks me for the picture and then he’s off.
My smile falls flat as I let the door close behind me. So the rumor in the industry is that I’m retiring? I open the sports channel app, and once I’ve scrolled down far enough, I see the article.
A Star Is Born Only To Fade.
The author reports on my stats while I was in the league and then details the accident, the surgeries that put my leg back together, and my quiet retirement from the team.
‘Is there a chance that Campbell can play hockey again? Maybe as a casual activity, but the truth is his best days are long behind him. He was a star snuffed out too soon. I wish him well on his journey to life outside of the rink.’
The sound of paper rustling drags my attention down. I’m tightening my fingers on the delivery package. With a deep breath, I exit from the app and grab my things from Riley’s apartment.
I’m going home and I’m going to stay up all night, studying the tapes.
Tomorrow morning, I’ll be on that ice, putting in the work.
