She squeezes my hand. “Now you know how I felt every time you had a hockey injury.”
Hell. That’s what I’ve put her through so many times. Even worse is I kept her as my emergency contact for most of the last ten years, so she couldn’t escape it. Then again, I never had anything close to this. My injuries were mostly concussions and the occasional sprains.
“Well, you’ve paid me back in full. That was fucking scary. I don’t ever want to think what life would be like without you in it.”
Brielle looks at me strangely. “Now you’re freaking me out. The doctor did just say that it was a standard procedure, right?”
“She did. Doesn’t mean I didn’t go out of my damn mind.” I offer her the bottle of water that I forgot was in my hand. I bring the bottle to her lips, and she slowly takes a sip, then I set the drink to the side.
A laugh accompanied by a whimper comes from Brielle. “Wait a second… I don’t remember so clearly, but wasn’t I in a towel and nothing else?”
I grin to myself, more because I love how she is doing her best to be in positive spirits. “I found you on the bathroom floor, and yes, you had a robe on, nothing else. I was so concerned and in shock that I didn’t even think to at least get more coverage, so some paramedic got an eyeful.”
“Hope he was hot.” She’s taunting me.
“You must be feeling better if you can throw that line at me, knowing damn well it makes me insane.”
She moves her head against the pillow, looking at me from a different angle. She still looks weak but nothing like last night when we brought her in. I don’t even think she realizes that she was in and out of consciousness for a good part of the night; they gave her a lot of painkillers.
“I’m trying to forget that the last few days have been a complete disaster.”
My heart aches again. This is a time when she should be celebrating. She has worked so hard, and if I’m honest, made the most sacrifices. This isn’t fair in the slightest.
“I’m sorry, Elle.”
I can faintly make out that she shrugs a shoulder. “Not your fault.”
“Still.”
“Fiancé, huh?” She attempts to keep her face neutral, but I see the line of her mouth twitch.
I lean back in my chair, a little bit proud, not of my move but for the fact that, for a little bit anyways, I got to play the part of her future husband again. “You’re more than my girlfriend, and it was the easiest explanation.”
“You really are getting bold.”
“Only when it comes to you.” She smiles lazily before she yawns. “Get some rest. I’ll go grab you some real food, and I think you deserve some fresh flowers or a teddy bear from the gift shop.”
She nods once before her eyes close again. I watch her for a few moments, taking in the view of my sleeping angel before I leave her room.
* * *
After stockingup on food supplies and a few gifts from the hospital shop, I make my way back to Brielle’s floor.
Alone in the elevator, I reflect that the last time I saw Brielle in the hospital as a patient was when our son was born.
I wasn’t there at the start. I had to drive down from a game that I was supposed to have. Brielle’s mom was with her, and although her mother was kind enough to acknowledge that it was a special moment for us, she only let Brielle and I have a few minutes together. Brielle was in pain then, but I dare say nothing compared to last night, which is why I felt like the earth was shattering.
When the doors of the elevator open, I walk out and turn the corner. I feel like I’m stepping out into déjà vu because there by Brielle’s door are her parents, and for some godforsaken reason, my own father.
My body instantly tenses, and my face hardens. Why they are all here is a surprise, or maybe it shouldn’t be. I called Brielle’s parents when she was in surgery because it’s the decent thing to do. It’s what I would want if Connor was ever in a similar situation, but having everyone here is kind of the last thing Brielle needs.
Throughout the years, we’ve all kept our distance from one another. Respecting everyone’s roles, yet in no way becoming a tight family unit. As much as I hate to admit it, even shitty parents can become amazing grandparents, and that’s what they all are to Connor. The only time that we really all come face to face is Connor’s birthday once a year or the occasional hockey game that Connor may play.
But here we are now, and I can’t read anyone’s expression.
Brielle’s parents, Kerry and Jim, are the first to step forward. Her mom is soft in features, and her temperament is much like Brielle’s, which means she is the least of my concerns.
“We were worried,” Kerry mentions.
