Page 98 of Goalie Secrets
“Why is she here?” The words spill out of me, tangled and frantic. “What happened to her? Is she OK?” I can’t breathe. My voice cracks. I lean forward to rest my hands over my thighs. Oxygen isn’t coming fast enough, so I pant desperately.
“She’s OK, Jeremy.” Paul’s expression softens enough to convey pity. I hate that I’m in a position where pity feels like mercy.
“Why is she here? What happened? Where is she? Jesus, what hap—”
“She got into a car accident.”
The edges of my vision darken. “Oh my god.”
“She’s not seriously injured, Jeremy. Nothing life-threatening, but she’s here because she’s under concussion protocol.”
“Where? Please, man, I’m fucking begging you. I need to see her.”
He sighs. “She’s in room 455,” he says cautiously. “Give it ten minutes before you go in. Don’t make it obvious I told you.”
“Tell me what to expect, Paul.”
“I promise that she’s OK. Now you have to promise you’ll wait at least ten minutes.”
I nod, swallowing hard. “Thank you.”
He presses the button for the top floor and jerks his head toward the panel to indicate that’s where he expects me to go.
“Ten minutes minimum,” he orders, the brusqueness back in his voice.
Ten minutes might as well be ten lifetimes. There’s no choice, though. He gave me his word that Vanya is OK, and I promised not to get him in trouble.
The elevator hums as it ascends. The metal railing is icy against my grip. When the doors open, I step out in a trance. The hallway stretches ahead, sterile and quiet. I spot a sign with an arrow toward the chapel. It leads me to a small door cracked open.
Once inside, it takes a minute to get used to the dim light filtering through stained glass. The faint scent of polished wood and old prayer books adds to the somber atmosphere. The silence is a blanket that dulls the noise in my head just enough to think. Dropping onto one of the worn pews, I pull out my phone and set a timer for ten minutes. I’m reminded of the first day we met, when I put a timer on Vanya to prove her skills as a doctor. I was a fool then and, it turns out, I’m still clueless.
For the first time since I was a kid, I try praying. I don’t know how to start. My thoughts trip over themselves, spilling out in ajumble.Please let her be OK. She needs to be safe. This is my fault. I can’t forgive myself if she’s hurt. Oh god, please, please let her be OK.
I stare up at the ceiling and try to believe someone is listening.
It occurs to me that if Vanya feels even a fraction of the worry I’m going through now, she managed it with more composure than I’m capable of. I recall the way she used to look at me after games, her brow furrowed as she asked about my hip. I remember the quiet concern in her voice, the tension in her shoulders, when I brushed her off.
I never considered what it cost her to support me.
But this unbearable ache in my bones, this clawing panic in my throat, this sense of loss the size of a cannonball…this is fucking brutal. If this is what she’s been carrying every time I step on the ice, I don’t know how she does it.
I clasp my hands tighter, the wood of the pew biting into my knees. The timer buzzes, snapping me to attention.
I stand, shaky but resolute.
I know what I have to do.
“I’m taking the rest of the week off,” Ashley says, picking at my blanket. “And you can’t stop me.”
The hospital room is stark, white walls and stainless steel, but the pale green blanket draped over my legs is a feeble attempt at warmth. I put my uninjured hand over hers to stop the nervous tick. Ashley picks at fabric when she’s stressed.
“Don’t use all your vacation days to help me settle in. Once I’m in your house, I know where your good booze is,” I joke. “But seriously, thank you for dropping everything to be here. Both of—”
The door bursts open. Jeremy stands there, tall and out of place, his broad shoulders filling the doorway. He looks like he’s just stepped off the ice. Flushed cheeks, messy hair, and energy too big for the room. My heart skips excitedly before plummeting.
“What are you doing here?” My voice is surprisingly steady.
His jaw tightens. “I should have been here from the beginning. From the moment you got hurt, I should have been the one by your side.”