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“Do you have a headache?”
“Yeah, but they gave me painkillers at the hospital. I’m fine. Can I have that back?”
I ignore him. “Are the lights too bright in here?”
“You don’t even have the lights on. Stop bugging.” He pouts. It would be funny seeing him acting all petulant like a little kid if he wasn’t so obviously hurt right now. Should they have even let him leave the hospital like this?
“Hey, I am not bugging!”
“Yes you are.” He smirks. He really is not acting like himself.
He rests his head against my pillow and closes his eyes.
“Alexei?”
“What?”
“Please don’t fall asleep.”
He takes a deep breath before opening his eyes. I can see by the way he has to prize them open that it’s an effort for him.
“We could talk instead. Nothing strenuous. I won’t make you think too much.”
“Good. And don’t ask me who the president is, it’ll stress me out.”
I slap his arm before realizing I probably shouldn’t be hitting someone who’s injured.
“Fuck, you’re a terrible nurse.” But he’s still grinning. The grin fades, his mood changing in an instant, and he says. “We lost 2-6.”
“I’m sorry, that sucks.”
He swallows, loudly, his throat sounding dry. “We suck.Isuck.”
“You do not suck.”
“I do. I used to be good you know, like really good.”
God, I want to hug him right now, but I don’t think he’d want me to.“You still are.”
He ignores me. “I had an agent, I was gonna be drafted, probably first or second round. Boston C and Michigan had scouts out for all my junior games and wanted to give me a scholarship – full ride. They were fighting over me. Then I got injured.”
I don’t know what to say. He’s looking very intensely into the couch cushions and biting his lip like he’s trying not to cry.
“Alexei?”
“Yeah?” he raises just his eyes to me. That bloodshot one makes my heart ache.
“You deserve not to be hurt.”
He just blinks at me.
“I know you love hockey. But if all it does is hurt you and make you feel like shit, then you deserve to do something with your life that makes you feel good.”
“Stop it.”
“Stop what?”
“Telling me I deserve shit.”