Page 65 of The Flight Risk

I’m sitting in the locker room and the athletic trainer is cleaning up my jaw, which in fact did get busted up a bit. “Just a few more minutes, Oakley.”

Tristan and Bradley’s lockers are right next to mine. I know I’m going to have to talk to the press once I get nice and cleaned up, but I’m not ready to talk to these bozos about what happened or why I acted so out of character.

Lawson starts the interrogation. “What got into you, man?”

Bradley chimes in, “Yeah, usually it’s us getting into fights on the ice. Not you, Oakley.” He pushes my shoulder a bit.

I snap, “The other goalie pissed me off. He kept freezing the fucking puck throughout the game. And he came over and inserted himself in a fight he didn’t need to be in in the first place.”

The trainer stops for a moment. “You need some stitches, man. Sorry.” He searches his bag. I take this opportunity to look over at Tristan and Bradley, who are raising their eyebrows at each other as they continue to remove their gear, avoiding all eye contact with their now unhinged goalie. I’ve never talked to them like this. This whole breakup with Tess is really fucking me up in the head. I close my eyes but I can hear them talking.

“Do you think it’s about Tess?” Beckett whispers.

“Oh, a hundred percent it’s about Tess,” Lawson whispers back. These two are like high schoolers gossiping in the damn hallway.

All my zen goes out the window and I growl, “I’m not deaf, you know. I can hear you guys whispering over there. You are literally two feet away from me.”

I hear them snickering near their lockers. This stitching might take a little bit and I need some sort of distraction. “Hey, Lawson, can you bring me my phone?” I know there’s not going to be a missed call or text from Tess, but a guy can dream right?

I’m expecting Tristan to be a smart-ass and tease me about Tess, but he doesn’t. Instead, he walks over and places my phone in my outstretched hand. He pats me on my shoulder and says, “She’ll come around, bro. Whatever happened between you two, I have a good feeling things are going to work out. And I say that being the one in the wrong with Brooke. You know how much I screwed up and she still loved me and showed up that night.” The memory of Tristan standing out in the middle of the ice waiting for Brooke to forgive him and take him back comes to the forefront of my mind.

“Yeah, well, unlike you, I’m not the best at grand gestures. I’m not about to go on national television to confess how much I screwed up and beg the love of my life to take me back. I’m not one to take those kinds of risks, Lawson.”

“Beg is a strong word.” His eyes narrow. “What even happened? I don’t even think she has disclosed anything to Brooke about all of this. I’m sure if she had, I would have known all the gory details by now.”

“The only thing that I screwed up with was letting her walk out the door. She got scared. She even said it herself how much she was a flight risk when it came to love and I should have listened to her. Look where it led me. An empty house and a broken heart.”

Tristan sighs. “In my experience, love is always worth the risk. Believe me, man, she will come around. You’re too good together and the universe doesn’t screw up who is meant to be your person. I never thought in a million years Brooke would ever be mine and here I am months away from marrying her.”

I look down at my phone and see multiple missed calls from Tess and one voicemail message from her. She left it during our game. My heart leaps so intensely and I can’t help but smile when I see her name.

“Well, what do you know?” Tristan nudges me and walks back to his locker.

The athletic trainer continues to work on my sliced-open jaw and I take a deep breath before clicking on the voicemail notification.

My eyes scan from left to right, almost as if I’m doing my pregame warm up, as I process what she’s telling me. Tess is crying and she’s saying something about the hospital and all my worst-case scenarios of what could possibly happen to the love of my life ping-pong across my brain. I put up my hand while my trainer is in the middle of his treatment. I try to focus on everything Tess is saying through her tears. I mouth to the trainer, “I’m sorry” when he looks at me completely baffled. I don’t blame him. All I know is that I’m not confined to a stretcher and I can leave this locker room right now and go to my girl. My girls.

I stand up, grab my duffle, and rush out the door.

Luckily, I was able to decipher the name of the hospital through all the tears. My body is exhausted and hurts all over. The only thing keeping me from not collapsing is the fact I’m about to see Tess’ beautiful face. It’s all worth it. The hospital door slides open and I ask the receptionist where the PACU is located and hope she lets me through.

“It’s on the seventh floor. Visiting hours are over. Are you family?” She glances at my half-stitched wound and asks, “Do you need to be checked out, sir? Your jaw is bleeding.”

“No, I’m fine.” I’m not one for lying, but I need to see if my girls are okay. “I’m Charlotte Lewis’... uncle. She just had an appendectomy and I wasn’t there because of work but I should have been there. I need to be here for her.” I put my hands on my hips and allow desperation to lace my voice as I take a shot in the dark: “Are you a Star Wars fan?”

She shrugs a little and narrows her eyes, I’m sure wondering where this is going. “I’ve seen them. Maybe I wouldn’t consider myself a superfan, but I enjoyed them.”

“Well, my niece, Charlotte, she’s my Chewbacca.”

“And I assume you are Hans Solo in this situation?” She smirks, clearly amused by my analogy and how much I’m willing to bring out all my nerdiness in one fell swoop. I’m laying everything on the line right now.

“Please.” I am not above begging on my hands and knees in front of this woman if I have to. “I need to see her.”

The receptionist stares at me now, almost like she recognizes me. “Wait, aren’t you the goalie for the Dallas Storm?”

Relief sets in through my body. For the most part, it’s a benefit. Other times, haters have a chance to unload their grievances onto me. I’m hoping it’s the former. “Yes, I am.”

“Well, honey, you should’ve led with that. I’m a huge Storm fan and am bummed I can’t make it to more games. Crazy odd hours.”