Page 84

I dutifully took the pill she’d broken in half, though, washing it down with my water bottle. Then I blurted out one of the things that had been bothering me the most: “What if my career is over?”

Faith, like Sabrina, wasn’t one for platitudes about how positive thinking and all that bullshit would get me back on my skates. “It could be over,” she admitted. “But you won’t knowthat for a while. Don’t start grieving your career when you still might have it.”

“But I want to be ready if I don’t have it,” I said.

“Fair enough.” She studied me. “You know, a career-ending injury isn’t the same as a life-ending one.”

I chewed my lip and nodded. She knew of what she spoke—her own career had ended abruptly thanks to a neck injury. She could still skate, and she still did great as a skills coach, but full-contact and full-speed play was off the table for her.

“I know it isn’t,” I said quietly. “I just… don’t know what to do next.”

“It’s a tough thing to figure out,” she admitted. “And I won’t lie—I still miss being able to play. The adjustment period sucked. I won’t blow smoke up your ass and tell you you’ll magically be okay with not being okay enough to play hockey.”

Closing my eyes, I exhaled. That was surprisingly liberating. Sometimes all I needed to hear was that I didn’t have to be happy with the cards life dealt me. After a moment, I faced her. “I’m also worried about what this is going to do to me and Sabrina.”

Faith’s eyes widened. “What do you mean?”

“I mean…” I told her everything I’d thought about earlier, with Sabrina’s demanding schedule and being separated as much as we were. “Even when she’s home, there’s no guarantee we’ll see each other. Sometimes she just needs to sleep, you know?”

Faith nodded.

“I’m just… I’m afraid she’ll… I don’t know if saying she’ll forget about me is the right way to describe it, but that’s what it feels like.”

It sounded so stupid when I said it out loud, and I cringed, expecting Faith to roll her eyes and tell me what a dumbass I was.

Instead, my friend regarded me silently for a long moment. Then she reached over and clasped my hand in hers. “Don’t take this as me telling you this all in your mind or you’re imagining things, okay? But one thing I learned when I hurt my neck was that sometimes, when you’re dealing with a crisis”—she tipped her head toward my leg—“it can seem a lot bigger than it is. Like it’s going to last forever and never get better and everyone around you is going to leave you behind.”

I swallowed hard. It did feel like that—like this was never going to end, and I was always going to be in post-op limbo.

“It also makes everything else seem bigger,” she went on, keeping her voice as gentle as her grasp on my hand. “It isn’t because you’re being dramatic or projecting or whatever—it’s because you already have so much on your plate, even adding some minor stress is overwhelming.”

“So… straws and camels’ backs.”

“Exactly. So I suspect that while you’re here worrying that Sabrina is going to forget about you, or that a few weeks of not seeing much of each other will be something you can’t come back from…” Faith offered a soft smile. “Your girlfriend is probably just counting the hours until she can be with you again.”

My throat tightened around my breath, and I avoided my friend’s gaze.

She gave my hand another squeeze. “Remember, there’s two people in this relationship. It’s not just you. If Sabrina is worth being your girlfriend, then she also understands that she has to pull her weight too. I mean, if she was injured, would you expect her to be putting a hundred percent into the relationship?”

“I…” Some warmth rushed into my face as I sheepishly admitted, “No. Of course not.”

“Right. And right now, you’re in a position where you have to focus a lot of energy on recovering while she’s focusing her energy on the playoffs. Neither of those things a forever. Yougive her space and understanding while she concentrates on hockey for a few weeks. If she’s the kind of girlfriend I think she is, she’ll do the same while you’re recovering.”

“God, I hope you’re right.”

“Pfft. I’m always right.”

That brought a laugh out of me that gave me more relief than anything this pain pill could. “I’m going to ask your wife about that.”

“Don’t you dare.” She let go of my hand and huffed melodramatically.

I snickered, but as I sobered, I said, “Maybe I should suggest we go somewhere after the playoffs. Like take a vacation. You know, so we have something to look forward to together?”

Faith’s smile was gentle and sincere. “That sounds like an excellent idea.”

I released a relieved sigh. “Okay. Okay, I’ll do that.” My head was getting a little foggy, though, so I added, “Maybe after this pill wears off.”

Faith patted my arm. “Good idea. Get some rest.”