Page 28

November

Alice

The call goes straight to voice mail for the third time as I pace around the furniture store, drawing the attention of everyone around me.

He didn’t come.

Jordan promised he’d be here to help me, and he didn’t come. My eyes burn with unshed tears, and I do my best to keep them at bay. I refuse to cry in front of all these people who are just trying to get their Black Friday deals.

My phone vibrates in my hand and hot anger takes over as soon as I see Jordan’s name on the screen. “Where the hell are you?” I bite out, moving to a corner of the store.

“Alice,” he says quietly, and pauses for the longest time. “I’m sorry, something came up and I can’t join you today.”

I scoff and shake my head even though he can’t see my disappointment. “Can’t or won’t?”

Jordan exhales and I can’t tell if he’s exasperated with me or disappointed in himself, but I don’t care. He promised me this one thing. After telling me again and again how he wants to make things right, now he’s bailing at the last second.

“Al, I’m so sorry, I will make this up to you?—“

“Don’t bother. I won’t be counting on you any longer,” I say, and hang up the phone.

A tear escapes me, and I cover my mouth to stop myself from sobbing in the middle of the store.

I glance at the bookshelf that would have been perfect for my bedroom and decide to let it go.

There’s no way I could unload this thing by myself and bring it into my apartment, even if I did manage to get it into my car.

I make my way out of the store without drawing any more attention to myself and rest my head on the steering wheel once I make it into the Jeep. My phone buzzes and I glance down at it.

Ash

how is furniture shopping going?

I love Ash to death, but this is not the time to check up on me. I wipe my tears and call him.

“Hey,” he tries to say enthusiastically, but I can tell he’s tired as hell.

“You sound awful,” I snort.

“Rude,” he mumbles.

“I’m sorry, I’m just being bitchy because Jordan bailed on me.”

“What do you mean?”

“He just called saying he can’t come help me. Like he went on and on about how he wants to make things up to me and that he won’t let me down again, and then he just fucking bails. I’m so over it.”

Ash is quiet on the other end for too long and I pull the phone away from my ear just to make sure I didn’t accidentally hang up on him. “Ash, are you still there?”

He sighs, and I can picture him pinching the bridge of his nose. “He still hasn’t told you, has he?”

“Still hasn’t told me what?”

“About his injury,” Ash says quietly, and I can hear him shuffle something in the background.

Injury? Did Jordan get injured recently? Coaching? My mind runs through all the details of last week and even yesterday. He seemed fine at dinner.

“What injury?” I finally ask.

“The one from January, when he shattered his hip.”

My eyebrows pinch in confusion as I try to think back. That can’t be right, he had a minor injury in January, which was why he couldn’t come home when Val was born.

“I was the only one who knew at the time how bad it really was,” Ash says, and takes a deep breath, “and it was really bad, Al.”

My shoulders drop and I close my eyes. Fuck, why didn’t he say anything?

“What happened?” I ask, not completely sure that I want to know.

“He was pretty brutally checked. There’s a video out there but I don’t recommend watching it. He violently crashed into the boards and was taken off the ice on a stretcher and then ended up with a hip fracture and a concussion.”

I can’t help but vividly picture everything Ash is telling me, and it makes me feel sick to my stomach. As someone who’s grown up with hockey, I know a thing or two about injuries, especially after Robbie had to get through two torn ACLs. But this, this sounds so much worse somehow.

“Is that why he retired?” I ask, and immediately feel dumb. Of course that’s why.

“Al, it took him five months to recover and he’s still in pain most days. That was a career-ending injury.”

“What do you mean he’s still in pain?” I ask, and my voice wobbles, more tears gathering on my lashes.

“Fuck, I really shouldn’t be the one telling you all this. He—he’s got something called post-traumatic osteoarthritis, it’s like chronic pain essentially. Unless he gets a total hip replacement, he’s gonna have to deal with that pain for a long while.”

“Why doesn’t he get one?” I squeak out.

Ash snorts. “Have you met Jordan? He’s the most stubborn guy I know and up until recently, he hadn’t even told his family how bad the injury was, let alone accept anyone’s help or advice.”

“But if he’s in pain—” I try to argue, but Ash cuts me off.

“He thinks doing his physical therapy is enough, but that’s just the bare minimum. I know what he’s like, and most of the time he feels like he’s a burden to others, so no matter what you say he’s not going to listen.”

“Fuck, Ash. I was so rude to him. I told him he’s not someone I can count on,” I say, chewing on the corner of my lip. God, I’m such an idiot.

“Damn, ruthless.”

“ Ash !” I cry out.

“Sorry, sorry. Look, I’m sure he’ll look past you being rude. But maybe you should check on him. If he truly bailed on you, he must be having a bad flare.”

“You think he’d want to see me?”

“Probably not, but you have a spare key.” Ash goes quiet for a moment. “Sometimes he just needs some tough love and someone to stick by him even when he wants to push everyone away.”

I nod even though he can’t see me. “Thank you for telling me.”

“Just … take it easy on him, Al.”

“I’ll try,” I say with an eye roll, and Ash laughs, almost like he could see me.

“Love you, blondie.”

“Miss you, goldfish.”

The radio is playing Christmas music and normally I would be all for it, but my mind keeps straying to Jordan. Is he okay? Please let him be okay.

I go to my apartment first and change into leggings and an old comfortable navy blue sweater before grabbing the key to Jordan’s apartment from my junk drawer.

I fiddle with it for a moment, contemplating if he even wants me there, but decide to follow Ash’s advice and give Jordan a dose of tough love.

Walking into his apartment, the lights are all off, blackout curtains pulled tight. It’s so dark and quiet that for a moment I wonder if he’s even home. But his car was in front of the building, so he must be here. I quietly pad over to his bedroom and push the door open.

“ Jordan?”

The lump on the bed moves the tiniest bit and I bite my lip in worry.

“ Jordan, are you okay?” I ask again.

“Alice?”

I let out a breath and move to the bed, not knowing what to do, but wanting to make sure he’s okay all the same.

“I’m here,” I say, flipping the nightstand light on and getting on top of the comforter, grabbing the edge of it and pulling it down to reveal Jordan.

My eyes are still adjusting, but I can clearly see his pained face.

My hands move of their own volition and cup his face, my thumb stroking his short beard.

“How are you here?” he asks with a resigned look on his face, eyes tired and heavy.

“I used the spare key. I know it’s only supposed to be used in emergencies, but this kind of seemed like one.” I ramble on until Jordan pulls his arms out of the comforter and caresses my wrists.

“I—“ he says, but swallows hard, eyes closed tight. He’s going to tell me he doesn’t want me here, seeing him like this. Too bad .

“Don’t even try to tell me to leave. I’m so mad at you right now, I could actually punch you, if you weren’t already in pain. Jordan, why the hell didn’t you tell me?”

His brown eyes roam my face as his thumb continues to stroke my wrist. “Tell you what?”

I huff in frustration and pull my hands away, lying down beside him. Maybe if he’s not looking at me straight-on he might actually tell me everything himself. “Why didn’t you tell me the real extent of your injury?”

“You talked to Ash?” he hedges.

“Yes, but I want you to tell me.”

“I don’t?—“

“None of that bullshit. You said you came to Grand Marquee to get back in our good graces. If you want us”—I say, stopping myself before continuing—“if you want me to let you in again, you have to be honest.”

Jordan’s fingers find mine on top of the comforter and he squeezes my hand in his. He’s quiet for so long that I think this might be the end of it all. He won’t open up, and I can’t chase him again knowing he won’t?—

“You’re right,” he says quietly. “I’ll tell you everything.”

Jordan

The pain has been excruciating. I usually keep my medication nearby, but I got hopeful, not having a flare in a few weeks. When it got too painful to even stand, I had no choice but to lay here motionless until the pain subsided.

The shittiest part was having to call Alice and tell her I couldn’t help her go furniture shopping today. I’ve let her down so many times in the past but the fact that I couldn’t even get out of bed today felt like a slap in the face. I can’t even be there for those I love.

What do I have to offer anymore? I’m a washed-up, depressed hockey player with a bum hip and no real prospects in life besides coaching. I feel so useless . I wouldn’t be surprised if all my friends gave up on me. I feel like giving up on myself most of the time.

I wince at the negative thoughts and remember what my new therapist said—I need to spend more time with supportive people, pulling the curtain to give them a glimpse into the darkness lurking beneath.

And Alice—she’s here and she’s not taking no for an answer. Maybe it’s time to let her see everything rather than hiding the ugly parts of myself.

“Things were bad once I moved to Texas. I was miserable there, Al,” I say, shaking my head but keeping her hand tight in mine, like that small act can give me the strength to push through this.

“I didn’t know anyone, and you know me, I’m always so fucking anxious in new places.

” I laugh bitterly and shake my head again, thinking back on how much I actually hated it there and how much I missed home.