CHAPTER 17
BEA
Imute the television, looking through the window at the fading afternoon light. Next to me, my phone vibrates on the uncomfortable hospital room couch. Ava’s name is on the screen. I scoop it up as quickly as possible to keep from waking Natalia, whose head is cradled in my lap. She’s wrapped in one of Nicky’s sweatshirts, it’s large enough to act as a blanket, and Floppy is tucked under her chin. Sleeping has come in fits and starts for her, and I don’t want her to lose the opportunity to catch up.
I received a call earlier this morning, saying that Nicky had been taken off his sedation. He was awake long enough to understand where he was, that something had happened during the game, and to ask for us.
He asked for us.
Not just Natalia. He had askedfor me, too.
He’s been sleeping on and off since then, never fully awake long enough to have conversations, so I delayed bringing Natalia here until after I picked her up from school. I’ve arranged for herto be excused for the next few days so she can spend as much time as she can tolerate at the hospital. I don’t sense that she’s uncomfortable in the building, but keeping her entertained is difficult. She dozed off a little bit ago, and I’ve sat like a sentinel, keeping watch over both of them.
I swipe to answer, tilting my head to keep the sound away from Nat.
“Hi, Ava.”
“Hi.” My boss’ voice is tired, matching my own. “We need to talk.”
For the last three days, Ava has handled all of the press surrounding Nicky’s injury, liaising with the league and the documentary crew. Half of those responsibilities were mine until I reached Nicky’s house that night and called to inform her that I could no longer perform my duties as I was personally involved. She reluctantly agreed, insisting a deeper discussion would need to be had, but could wait until Nicky’s condition changed. Given how effortlessly Ava does her job, I’m not surprised to see her calling me now everyone is aware Nicky is out of the coma.
“We do,” I acknowledge, then hedge my bets by continuing, “Things with Nicky changed at New Year. We had notified HR, and that meeting I had scheduled with you was to discuss putting someone else in with him and the film crew. I’ve needed to be here—for NickyandNatalia. I?—”
“Bea, I understand,” Ava interrupts, soft and reassuring. “The timing was unmatched in its unpredictability. I think it’s amazing how you’ve stepped in to take care of Natalia right now. She needs someone stable in her life with everything going on.”
“Cal asked. With his commitments to the team, he was going to need help, and I was already there.” I run my fingers through Nat’s hair, thinking back to three nights ago. I showed up at Nicky’s house after leaving the arena to a very concerned Ms. Margaret pacing the living room.
“Bea, is he okay?” Margaret asks, wringing her hands in front of her with worry. Every inch of her face is etched with decades of concern honed from life experience and parenthood. With that at her back and her admission of watching the game, it’s a relief I won’t have to describe what happened.
“He’s on his way to the hospital. He’s alive.” It sucks the breath from my lungs to say it. Because there was a moment—minutes—when he wasn’t. Nikita Baladin died tonight on the ice, and if I were capable of feeling anything right now, that knowledge would be enough to send me to my knees. But I can’t feel anything. I haven’t felt anything since it happened. I’ve pushed all of it away, built a wall so thick and so fast to keep it from reaching me. I am merely moving from one action to another. “You’re sure Nat didn’t see it?”
“No, she was in bed. Just after the first period, like usual.” Margaret deflates into the couch, but I can’t seem to make myself follow. If I stop moving, everything will catch up with me, and I can’t let that happen. I move toward the living room windows, looking out into the inky night. It’s nearing or just past midnight—I stopped keeping track. “Don’t you want to be at the hospital?”
The question jolts my system, my leg stepping toward the door without thought. It takes effort to keep my other foot from moving, too. Nicky and I might not have had a direct conversation with Natalia about our relationship yet, but Nicky insisted on making Margaret aware that we are together. Without any further definition, Natalia’s caretaker didn’t ask for any more explanation.
“Desperately,” I admit, gritting my teeth when the word wobbles in a way that feels like a betrayal of how hard I’m working to keep myself together. Margaret’s eyes soften, and she leans forward with understanding. I clear my throat and glance toward the stairs. “But I think I’m exactly where I shouldbe. I can’t help Nicky. Sitting in a waiting room isn’t going to change anything. He’s receiving the best care possible. I think he’d want me to be here. I think he’d want to know I was looking after Nat.”
My hand drifts to my jeans pocket and the chain I tucked there for safekeeping, my fingers running over the ridges of her name.
“You’re right. He would.”
“I’ve asked Trinity to liaise with the crew.” Ava’s voice pulls my attention back to the present. To the sleeping child I wiggle out from underneath, turning to tuck her carefully in against the small couch. I glance quickly at Nicky, still sleeping in his hospital bed, and slide to the far corner of the room to continue the conversation. “Andy has been wildly unhappy with our office’s lack of access for the crew at the hospital.”
“Andy can get fucked.” It slips out, but I don’t try to apologize for it. Any warm feelings I had toward them evaporated when they only saw asubjectand not amanin the tunnel of The Midnight arena. A part of me understands, but a bigger part of me still dislikes it and isn’t ready to let it go.
“Hmm.” It’s a noncommittal response before Ava continues, “I respect our agreement with the NHL and Andy’s crew to document our player—even the difficult parts—but I told them they would need to be able to do so without direct access to Nicky’s room and family. It’s within the parameters of privacy we established at the beginning of the season. They don’t like it, but it’s not really my job to care about whattheylike.”
“I need a leave of absence,” I blurt, uninterested in hearing anything more about Andy and the docuseries. There’s silence through the line, and I press on with the thought I’ve had for the last three days. “Effective immediately, if possible.”
“Bea,” Ava begins slowly. She sounds warm and understanding, but she’s still my boss. She has a department torun, and I am making a highly unusual and emotional request. I know it. But I also know I can’t be anywhere except with the Baladins right now. They need me, but more than that,I need them.I’ve been fraying at every seam holding me together for days. I’ll tear into pieces if I’m away from them. “You can request it: I’ll happily grant it, if that’s what you want. But this will impact your job. That’s not a threat, Bea, just a reality.”
“I know.”
I sigh and lean against the wall, my eyes ghosting over the two sleeping figures in the room again. This decision is a professional risk. I’m breaking unwritten rules of blurred lines, and it will damage my reputation. People have probably been fired for less. But choosing to stay away from them is a personal risk—one I am unwilling to take. I’ve spent most of my life not having a family and not realizing that I’ve longed for one. Now, Nicky and Natalia have shown me what it feels like to find one. To build one. To have one. I don’t want to let it go. I have no example of how to keep one together during times of crisis, but I want to try. I want to be with them for whatever comes next.
“This is where I need to be, Ava,” I tell her, proud that my conviction about my choice comes through in the strength of my voice. “I don’t want to be anywhere else, and I’ll accept whatever comes of it.”
“I’ll file the paperwork for you. Come in and sign it when you can,” Ava says. “Keep in touch.”
