My nerves knot through me as I follow the burly man in a tight black polo shirt through the bowels of the arena, past checkpoints and closed doors I never would have gotten through alone. The growing rumble in the concrete around us tells me that the game’s started back up. That must be a good sign, right? If Jamie were really seriously hurt, they wouldn’t start playing again. Right?
The security guy waves a keycard in front of a scanner, and a door opens to a medical room. Jamie lies on a table, and my heart jumps into my mouth.
His eyes are open. He’s nodding to questions that a doctor—that’s what I assume the woman attending to him is—asks him. She shines a light in his eyes.
Okay. He’s talking. He’s awake. He’s responsive. I try to take a deep, steady breath, but my chest is still shaky when it expands.
The doctor glances at me over her shoulder. “Carmen?”
Nervously, I nod.
She smiles. It’s a reassuring look. “He was asking for you. He wouldn’t even let me start examining him until we promised to send someone to find you.”
A feeling like warm honey expands through me. But it still doesn’t calm my erratic heart.
Jamie’s eyes find mine. They’re glazed over and lack their usual spark, but they brighten when our gazes catch.
“Carmen.” He tries to sit up, but the doctor gently places her hands on his shoulders to keep him lying.
“No, no, don’t get up,” she says calmly. She turns to me. “You can talk to him. But he’s disoriented. Talk slowly and quietly, and don’t worry if he starts to ramble or says some things that don’t make sense. Don’t talk about anything stressful orworrying. I have to go get some things for a couple more tests to assess if he has a concussion. I’ll be back in a minute.”
Aftershocks of panic still rattle through me while the doctor stands, letting me take her place on the seat next to Jamie.
His sandy hair is ruffled and slicked with sweat, matted in places from his helmet. I really want to kiss him, but I’m sure that’s against protocol.
Can I at least rest my hand over his? Instinctively, I want nothing more than to wrap my arms around him and kiss him senseless, giving expression to my relief at seeing him okay. But I know I can’t. It’s so counterintuitive to think of Jamie as fragile. But right now, I’m afraid to do anything that might be bad for him in his condition, so I keep my lips and hands to myself, as difficult as it is.
“Hey.” I keep my voice low and soft, like the doctor instructed. “How are you feeling?”
Was that a bad question to ask? He can’t feel good. Does that break the doctor’s instruction not to talk about anything worrying? Ugh, I was pre-med for years, I shouldn’t feel so unprepared for a moment like this!
Jamie’s lips curve. “Better now.”
I roll my eyes. “You should be too hurt to be that cheesy.”
“Too hurt to be cheesy about how much I like you? I’d have to be down at least three limbs.” There’s an adrift look in his eyes, his words are a little slurred, and he’s clearly working with no filter.
“You’ve got all your limbs, so don’t worry about that. And I’m pretty sure you guys are still winning out there.” Hopefully both pieces of news are reassuring.
Jamie’s brow furrows. “What happened out there, anyway? Last thing I can remember, I was catching the puck.” He frowns. “Catching? Is that the right word for it? I’m a hockey player.I should know the terminology. This doesn’t seem like a good sign.”
I can’t disagree with that. He probably does have a concussion. But the doctor didn’t seem terribly concerned, so I try not to freak out.
“Puck. Chuck. What do you think of the name Chuck?” Okay, now Jamie’s really rambling.
I bite back a smile. Poor injured Jamie doesn’t need me laughing at his concussion symptoms.
“It’s … okay,” I answer, stifling a laugh. I can’t say it’s my favorite name, but I’m trying to be positive here.
“Right. Not a good name for one of our kids.”
My stomach drops. I can feel my face take on a deer-in-the-headlights look. “Our …” my voice withers away in my dry throat before I can repeat his words.
“I’ve been thinking a lot about it lately. I love Emily as a girl’s name. And you know what? I love Sebastian as a boy’s name, too. Would Sebastian find it weird if I named our son after him, though? Or would he be honored? It’s not like we’d even be naming himafterhim, really, I just like the name. I like the name James, too, but would it be weird to have a dad named Jamie and a kid named James? What do you think?”
Jamie’s rambling, but I can barely summon a word to my lips.
“You’ve been thinking about it …a lotlately?” I ask.
