“Hi there,” I say.
“I thought you’d left.”
I shake my head. “No. I was speaking with the doctor.”
He watches me, and my heart aches.
What is he going through?
“I, uh, think there was a misunderstanding,” I lie.
I wait for him to look hopeful, but instead he looks at me with suspicion. I deserve that.
“I was trying to tell you that your family isn’t here yet.”
“Oh.”
“I thought?—”
“They’re on their way, but they’re not here, yet. Unfortunately.”
He smiles. “Well, Germany and the US are far away.”
“I’m sorry I scared you.”
“It is okay.” He gives me a relieved glance.
Florian is not supposed to be looking at me with affection. He’s too handsome, too close, too intensely focused on me.
He reaches for my hand, and I take it.
I am such a liar.
CHAPTER
SIX
Mateo
A nurse ducks her head inside the room. “You have visitors, Florian.”
Florian gives me a look that says ‘help.’
Well, that makes sense. If he can’t remember who I am, he probably won’t remember who his visitors are.
“The team is in Canada,” I say. “Maybe you made some friends in Boston.”
He doesn’t look less alarmed.
I press my lips together. Social skills aren’t his thing.
Whenever I see him, he blurts excuses about how he absolutely can’t have a massage with me. How his back feels amazing, and those minutes in which I massaged him and personally felt and assessed the tightness of each muscle, have been preventing him from needing more massages.
Even after long games.
Even after long games where he’s fallen to the ice.
Even after long games where he’s fallen to the ice and gotten hit by someone else’s stick.
