Page 87 of Goalie Secrets
Thoughts come in fragments of flashing memories and hazy gaps. I remember the chaos in Vancouver, and the overwhelming pain when my body refused to get off the ice. Everything after that is a mishmash of too many lights, too many faces, too many questions. The pain was unbearable at first, but then the meds kicked in. I’ve had tests, consultations, and a flight. For most of it, the painkillers have kept me numb.
The door opens. I know it’s Vanya before she even says anything. Her familiar aroma and my desperate need to be with her cuts through the fog. I force my eyes open because the woman I love is here.
Vanya’s eyebrows are drawn tight yet she’s gorgeous as always. I hate that she’s worried. I shore up the energy to clear my head and find the words.
“You’re a sight for sore eyes,” I manage to mumble.
“Why didn’t you call me? Why did I have to hear about this from Kyle? Why is Blake the one watching over you?” She sounds like she’s choking.
Blake has been stuck to me, like gum to a shoe, since I left Vancouver. I wanted Vanya from the moment I was wheeled off the ice, but even under the haze of hurt, I didn’t cry out her name like a desperate lover. She wouldn’t have wanted that.
“My phone is somewhere in the locker room, I think,” I say with a shake of my head, clearing the cobwebs inside. “Comecloser so I can apologize properly.”
Vanya shuts the door behind her. She’s attempting to compose herself, but something else is percolating beyond her placid expression. Unfortunately, I’m incapable of analyzing anything. All I know is that Vanya is here, and I want her closer.
She crosses the room. I reach out. She holds my hand.
“I sent Blake to go for a walk so we can have some privacy. I’ve canceled my patients for the day. I can be here when they run more tests.”
Touching her makes one thing perfectly clear. There isn’t a drug in the world that’s going to make me feel better than holding Vanya. I pat the sliver of bed beside me.
“Hop on the bed, doc, to see if we fit. That’s the only test I care about.”
My attempt to wiggle my brows suggestively is met with a snort.
“Kyle said something about this being diagnosed as a bruise or strain,” she says. “We all know that’s bullshit.”
I squeeze her hand to reassure her. “It was a bad night. I always bounce back. I’ll take a break, obviously, but I’m cleared to skate next week.”
“What idiot would clear you to get on the ice?” Her voice, harsh with disbelief, makes me wince.
“They said I’ll be fine,” I explain, trying to keep my tone light. “I’ll be good to go after some rest.”
She doesn’t buy it and, deep down, I didn’t expect her to.
“Good to go?” She leans forward, her movements quick, jerky. Her grip tightens, broadcasting her irritation. “Jeremy, you shouldn’t even bethinkingabout the ice right now, let alone playing.”
I feel the harshness of her words. The bite of them. Old arguments resurface but instead of brushing them away with a comforting kiss, I let myself marinate in resentment. We’re backto her harping about vulnerabilities. My weaknesses. Under the haze of drugs, I don’t have the energy to smooth over this constant disagreement.
“Hockey isn’t just my livelihood, it’s who I am. Without it, I’m just a jackass in pain all the time.”
She rolls her eyes, clearly not impressed. “You’re already a jackass,” she mutters.
I smile to acknowledge her comeback. Vanya’s face softens a little, though the exasperation swirling in her eyes remains.
“It’s hard to explain,” I continue, desperate for her to get it. “Even when it hurts, being on the ice makes me feel like there’s a reason for why I’m built this way. I’m notcomfortable, but I’mwhole.”
She sighs wearily. “It doesn’t have to be this way, Jeremy. Please listen to me.” Her voice shakes, but not from uncertainty. I watch determination flood her features before she speaks.
“Your season is over,” she declares.
If I wasn’t already on a bed, the finality of her words would have laid me on my ass like a shot.
“It’s ov—”
“Damn it, Vanya,stop.” My voice is severe, cutting through her repetition of unsolicited advice. I don’t want to hear it. There’s no room for Vanya’s doubts now. Not when I’m so close to something I’ve wanted from the moment I decided to be a goaltender.
She throws up her hands, exasperated. “Just because every doctor is afraid of pissing you off doesn’t mean I am!”