Page 50

Chapter

Forty-Seven

JONAS

“Seriously, I’m fine.” I glare at Evan and Dr. Patel, the team doctor. I’m stuck in an exam room in the athletic facility, and they won’t let me leave. All I want is my bed and a long nap. “I tripped. You’re overreacting.”

“You’re underreacting.” Evan crosses his arms over his chest. “You passed out.”

“I did not.”

The sterile walls stare blankly back at me, and my head pounds to the beat of the flickering fluorescents. The doctor adjusts his thick-framed glasses and glances between Evan and I like it’s a ping-pong match.

“You fell and hit your head, man,” Evan says, a frown between his brows.

“There wasn’t any blood. No big deal.”

Dr. Patel clears his throat. “I know you’re a nursing student, Jonas, but do you have a medical degree from Indiana University?”

I shake my head, which makes it ache more. Don’t do that again.

He continues. “Do you have seventeen years of experience practicing medicine?”

“No.” I sound like a petulant child, but I’m too over it to care. I see the point he’s making, and I don’t appreciate it.

“And do you have four years of experience in sports medicine?” he persists, shining a light in my eyes now.

“Also no.”

“Then I think I get to decide if you’re okay or not.”

I huff, put in my place, and keep silent for the rest of the exam. Doc checks my reflexes, my pulse, and probes my head, feeling around with his fingers.

“Ow.” I wince and jerk away when he hits a sore spot on my temple.

He raises a brow. “You’re lucky it didn’t bleed. Head wounds are gushers.”

“I know.”

Dr. Patel stands back and surveys me, hands on his hips. “If you know it already, what would you advise a patient in your condition, then?”

I sigh. “To watch for signs of a concussion. Change in pupil size, dizziness, nausea, headache, and double vision. And to take some Ibuprofen as needed.”

“Really?” He steps forward, clearly still in lecture mode. “You wouldn’t want to figure out what the root cause was?”

“There was no other cause. I tripped.”

“Agile hockey player like you?” he presses, and I squirm. Yeah, I had been a little dizzy before I went down. Probably pushed it a little too hard. But I’ve learned my lesson, I won’t?—

There’s a knock on the door, and Hunter pops his head in. “Doc, I think Evan and I can take it from here.”

My mouth drops open. “What are you doing here? You need to be in Chicago, with the Wolves. Your season starts soon, and?—”

“I heard a teammate needed me.” He shrugs and shares a glance with Evan. “Plus, it’s only an hour away. You’d drive farther if a teammate needed you.”

Dr. Patel’s face lights up as he claps Hunter on the shoulder. “Good to see you, Thompson. How’s the leg?”

Hunter wiggles his leg, demonstrating his range of movement. “Like nothing ever happened.”

“The Blackhawks made a great decision.” The doctor’s smile fades as he stares back at me. “Speaking of. Jonas, you need to take care of yourself. Don’t be foolish.”

With that, he stalks out of the small space and leaves me staring between Evan and Hunter.

My gaze lands on my roommate. “You called him?”

Evan raises his shoulders. “I needed reinforcements.”

“For what?” I ask.

“You’ll find out.” Hunter slings my arm around his shoulders and hauls me upright.

“I can walk on my own just fine, I don’t need help,” I protest, only slightly off-balance as he drags me through the doorway and down the hall, Evan following.

“Where are we going?”

“Just gonna have a chat.”

With those ominous words, he bundles me in the passenger seat of his BMW. Evan slides in the backseat, and we drive off.

We end up at O’Bryan’s, the local Irish pub. It’s a great bar to hang out in on the weekends, with a fun music and dance scene. And it’s the perfect place for a quiet drink on a weeknight.

“Ah, I’ve missed this.” Hunter sips his Harp with a deep sigh of satisfaction.

I shake my head. “You live in Chicago. There’s practically an Irish bar on every corner. You can get Harp anytime you want.”

“Yeah, but there’s something about having it here, with you guys.

” He gestures between me and Evan with his pint glass, and I get it.

Though they ambushed me, it’s great to share a drink with my friends at our favorite spot.

Or it would be, if they had let me order anything besides a Coke.

I’m positive I don’t have a concussion, but they won’t listen to me about it.

We talked Evan out of a Boilermaker—he loves those things—and he nurses a Smithwick’s on my other side. Sitting at the bar, we stare at the rugby game on the TV until I clear my throat.

“So. Wanna tell me why you felt the need to drive to Lafayette tonight and take us out for a drink?”

“How you feeling about the upcoming season?”

“Uh.” This is a little random, but I go with it. “Good, I guess. Yeah. It’ll be fine.”

There’s that word again. Can’t keep it out of my vocabulary.

“Evan mentioned you’ve been training pretty hard,” Hunter says, playing with a coaster on the bar.

I side-eye my roommate, who ignores me and watches rugby like it’s the most fascinating thing he’s ever seen. To be fair, it might be.

I shift my focus back to Hunter. “No harder than you would have. Besides, the team deserves it.”

He tosses the coaster and catches it. “What about what you deserve?”

“What do you mean?”

“I’m wondering why you’ve suddenly upped your workouts and such.” Hunter’s blue eyes, so similar to Hadley’s, bore into me.

I resist the urge to fidget. “Because I want us to be the best. Isn’t that what you would do?”

“Probably.” He takes a swallow of his beer. “But the rationale for it matters.”

I bristle at his bland tone. There’s an insult in here somewhere, but I’m not sure where. “What are you getting at?”

“I work hard to be the best. For a long time, hockey was life. And I’m not sure it was healthy for me.”

“Look.” I set my pint of Coke on the bar harder than I mean to. It sloshes over the rim. “I don’t need a lecture right now, man.”

“I’m not trying to give you one.” Hunter claps me on the shoulder. “But you need to do what’s best for you, not necessarily what’s best for the team.”

I open my mouth, but nothing comes out. I want to argue, but I’m not sure what to say.

Evan nudges me and takes the opening. “Besides, you pushing yourself too hard is not good for anyone. Not sleeping? Not eating? You’re too smart for that.”

“Yeah, that’s the part I can’t figure out.” Hunter tips back his glass and takes a swig. “Why is hockey suddenly the most important thing? You’ve always had your head on straight about it. What changed?”

I sit straighter on my bar stool. “If you’re gonna imply this is about your sister, I don’t want to hear it.”

But Hunter shakes his head. “I’m not getting in the middle of her love life again. No, I think this is all about the ice.”

“It’s all tangled up together, dude.” Evan leans closer, and I shove his face away from me. “Without Hadley, he made hockey his entire focus.”

“Can you not talk about me like I’m not here?” I sound petulant, but I don’t care. That’s how I feel.

“We’d love to talk to you, if you’re ready to be honest.” Hunter pins me in his stare. “We’re trying to be there for you, exactly what you’d do for a teammate in need. Let us have a turn.”

I sigh and rest my forehead on the bar. I take pride in how I care for the guys on the team, and they’re right. Their persistent concern breaks down my walls, and I let my defenses crumble.

“Okay, you win.” My voice is weary as I raise my head. “Let’s talk.”

I ignore the triumphant look Hunter and Evan share.

Hunter clears his throat. “Why have you been working out so much lately? Pushing it so hard you pass out? What’s changed?”

“It’s like I said. The team deserves it.”

“But why, man?” Evan asks. Curiosity, not judgment, shines in his eyes.

I exhale. “I let everyone down last year. I’m not doing that again.”

Hunter blinks. “And…how did you do that?”

How does he not know? He was there. Isn’t it something everyone discussed? “I blew the Frozen Four game. We lost because of me.”

Evan shakes his head. “That’s not true.”

“I missed the shot. I could have won the game for us, but I missed.”

“I was out there on that ice, too.” Evan tosses his hair out of his face. “If you’re to blame, then I am, too. Or Cooper. He made the pass to you. Maybe his angle was off.”

“It wasn’t.”

Evan straightens on his barstool. “I’m the one who let Quinnipiac get the puck in overtime. I wasn’t there to connect with you. If you need to blame someone, blame me.”

“I’m not?—”

“If you’re going to think like that,” Hunter drawls, cutting me off, “It could just as easily be my fault.”

“You weren’t even playing.”

“Exactly. If I hadn’t gotten injured, I probably would have been. It could have been me instead of you. The whole season could have been different.”

“Well…” That’s a stretch.

“See? If you keep going down this path, it gets murky. Because it’s not any one persons’ fault. We’re a team. We win and lose as a team.”

I grasp onto that one. “That’s why I upped my workouts. The team deserves the best I can give.”

“Nah, Jonas. That’s not how it works. Everyone was still there for me after I broke my leg and didn’t have anything to contribute.

” He’s right. I don’t have anything to say to that.

Hunter continues. “The guys will have your back, no matter what, but don’t give your best out of guilt. Give it for the love of the game.”

I shake my head. “I’m not sure I love the game like that. I know I should probably pursue it, but I don’t want to be in the NHL or play with a different team after this. I want to be a nurse.”

“That’s okay.” Evan shrugs. “You don’t owe the NHL anything.”

“I feel like…if I loved it more, I wouldn’t have messed up last season.” I stare at the dark wood of the bar, wishing it held all the answers.

“Nope,” Hunter says, voice firm. “That’s still not how it works. Wouldn’t you have given everything for the team? Haven’t you already proven that?”

“Well, yeah.”

“Do you want to keep playing this year?” he asks.

Do I? I think about the laughter on the bus, the jokes in the locker room. Coming together with a group of men and accomplishing one goal. I love these guys, and I want to give it one more season.

“It’s okay to play because you love being a part of the team, even if you don’t want it to become your life or your career.” Hunter taps the coaster on the bar, then spins it.

“But.” I sneak a glance at Evan, trying to be diplomatic. “What about the guys who’d give everything to have scouts checking them out? Isn’t it, like, unfair of them to waste my talent, or something?”

I’m not saying I’m better than Evan or anyone else on the team. I don’t think he’s harboring a desire to be scouted for the NHL—but I didn’t think that about Cooper, either, and it turned out to be his secret dream.

But Evan runs a hand through his hair, pushing it back from his face, and levels me with his gaze. Rarely serious, it’s odd to see the steely glint in his eyes. “I think it would be unfair of you to pursue a career that’s not your passion.”

“Yeah.” The truth of his words resonates in my chest. “I guess you’re right.”

I’ve made my career choice, but hearing my best friends affirm it relaxes something that was wound tight inside me. I take a deep breath for the first time in months.

“I’m probably right about the Hadley thing, too,” Evan says, a smug note creeping into his voice.

Hunter pointedly stares into his pint glass. “I’m not hearing this.”

I shrug like her name doesn’t bother me, doesn’t rip my heart into shreds. “Hadley’s a great girl. I want the best for her. I put myself out there, and she said no. End of story.”

It sounds like Hunter mutters, “Dumbass,” under his breath, but he’s not getting involved, so I can’t be sure.

Evan pats my shoulder. “I’m sorry, dude. I liked you guys together.”

I did, too. I liked who I was with her, who I had the potential to be. But that’s over and it’s time to move on. Maybe the hollow feeling inside my chest will go away soon. At least I’ll be smart about it and stop trying to fill it with hockey.