“Oh. Yeah. Fine. I’ll make it work,” I say because I have to. I stand again. “So I will be able to get back in time for the start of the next series, right? It’ll just be a quick thing?”
Coach looks confused and glances at the doctor who looks at me like I just failed an IQ test. “Nash, your season is over.”
“No. Fuck no,” I bark it out like they’re all the biggest assholes I’ve ever met. “That isn’t happening.”
“Nash short of some kind of miracle, this is something that will have to be removed immediately,” the doctor says firmly. “It’s causing nerve pain, which is what you’re feeling. And removing it will require surgery and recovery.”
“But if your guy says I can skate, I can skate, right?”
He looks like I just said I can prove Santa Claus is real. He is that skeptical.
“And I am allowed, under the player bargaining agreement, to seek out my own second opinion, at my own cost. So if they say I can skate, then what?”
“Let’s not talk about second opinions until we get the first, okay?” Coach suggests as he stands behind his desk. “Should we call in Crew now?”
I shake my head. “I am not telling anyone anything until I know for sure what I’m dealing with.”
“I don’t think that’s wise,” Coach says.
“Okay. Well, I do,” I argue and I can see a scowl flicker across his face and I almost wish he’d get mad. This feels way too real when he’s empathetic. “I’ll tell my family when I have more information.”
Do I want to handle this alone? I ask myself as I walk out of the office. No. Not even a little bit. But the only person I want to tell at this exact moment is Tenley and there's no way that's possible. She just made herself emotionally raw in front of our families to save my ass. She'll never admit it, but she did. And she's now running headfirst into a huge family crisis. She doesn't need me adding to it. And besides…
I swallow as I reach the parking garage, unlock my car, and slip inside, letting the entire painfully accurate thought finish in my head as my hand wanders to the back of my left knee and I press. Besides… she is not my real wife. She’s not even my girlfriend. She’s not someone who has to deal with this. She may have signed on to play house and dutiful WAG, but she didn’t sign on for this. This could be a life-altering thing. A career-ending thing. And she did not sign up for that.
Chapter 23
Tenley
"Leave it to Ten to trip ass-backward into a meaningful relationship," Harlow says with a roll of her eyes.
“Meanwhile I can’t find one to save my life,” Shelby mutters.
“Can both of you shut up?” I request of my cousins who I normally adore.
“We need to keep our mind off things,” Liv says and waves her hand in the air. “I’ll allow it.”
We’re all sitting on the back porch of my house, watching the sunrise. We hadn’t planned on doing this together. We all arrived yesterday—every single cousin—in order to be here for Aunt Callie’s biopsy tomorrow. She didn’t know we were all coming so we decided to hide out here, at the old farmhouse I used to share with Tate before he built his own place for him, Dylan, and Mallory. The guys are all staying at Tate’s.
Last night we made a big meal and all hung out until almost midnight when the guys headed back to Tate’s. Theo, Conner, and Grady all have their own homes in Silver Bay but they wanted to be together, just like the girls did, I guess, because other than Mayhem and Liv, Mac and Shelby and Harlow all have their own places too.
“I can tell you that it makes Crew ridiculously happy to see Nash fall in love,” Liv announces. “I think he thought Nash would never.”
“He hasn’t,” I argue softly and watch the sun breach the horizon just down the field. “We are enemies-with-benefits. Nothing more.”
“Bullshit,” Mayhem says firmly. Her eyes are red and she’s not even trying to hide it. I think she was up crying all night. Mae, who we all affectionately call Mayhem, is Callie’s youngest. She’s a junior in college now and she’s taking it worse than all of us. She took a leave of absence from her college hockey team and her studies the minute she found out about her mom. “That boy fought a dude for your honor. That’s classic romance shit. He is into you. And judging by the way your eyes light up when his name is mentioned, you like him too.”
“He’s growing on me,” I say but I cover my smile with my coffee mug because I’m not willing to reveal more—to my relatives or myself. And honestly, I don’t know exactly what to do about my new, rapidly deepening feelings for Nash.
"I can't believe you kept that Bryce secret for all this time," Harlow says. "I wish you'd confided in one of us or all of us."
“I just couldn’t deal with it,” I reply and turn to look at Harlow who still has a pillow crease on her cheek. The red tint to her brown hair, a sleeper gene courtesy of the Caplan side of the family, is glowing as the rising sun paints the sky orange. “And I knew it would be rehashed over and over like we’re doing right now. It’s done. I’m fine. Let’s concentrate on Callie.”
“Or go back to talking about Nash while we can,” Shelby suggests. Her hair is undeniably red, not auburn, and since she doesn’t have the Caplan genetics it didn’t come from that. Not having the Caplan genetics also means that she doesn’t have to worry about the hereditary aspects of ovarian cancer. She’s the only female in our generation who can claim that luck. “Is he good in bed? Because those ones tied tighter than a pair of figure skates are usually beasts in bed.”
My brain is willingly accosted with several images of a naked Nash doing incredible things to my body. “He’s a goddamn sex god.”
The whole porch erupts in hoots of approval and laughter.
