Page 36 of The Love Comeback (Glaciers Hockey #3)

Chapter Thirty

Ella

The hospital corridors stretch endlessly before me, a maze of sterile white walls and squeaking linoleum.

My heart hammers against my ribs as I weave through the early morning crowd—doctors with tired eyes, nurses carrying charts, family members of patients.

Nothing matters more than getting to Kade.

The image of Kade’s still body on the ice keeps flashing through my mind, making my breath catch and my hands shake.

I’ve spent years building walls and months convincing myself that I needed space, that loving him was too risky.

But seeing him hurt, seeing him carried away on that stretcher—it shattered every carefully constructed defense .

“Excuse me,” I mutter, squeezing past a group of visitors huddled near a vending machine. My voice sounds strange to my own ears, thin and breathless.

The smell of antiseptic grows stronger as I near the elevators, mingling with the scent of industrial cleaning products and that indefinable hospital odor that always makes my stomach clench. I jab the up button repeatedly, as if that might make the elevator arrive faster.

When the doors finally slide open, I nearly collide with a doctor exiting, her white coat fluttering as she sidesteps me with practiced ease.

I mumble an apology she doesn’t acknowledge and step inside, pressing the button for the fourth floor—the Trauma Unit.

That’s what the woman at the information desk told me after I convinced her to give me Kade’s room number.

“He’s only allowed family visitors right now,” she told me, her eyes sympathetic but firm behind wire-rimmed glasses.

“I am family,” I’d lied, the words tumbling out before I could stop them. And in that moment, it felt true—as if my heart recognized what my brain is still catching up to.

The elevator ascends with agonizing slowness. I glance at my watch: 7:05 a.m. It’s been over ten hours since they took Kade away in the ambulance. Ten hours of messaging Nate for information. Ten hours of realizing just how much Kade Santos means to me.

Nate said visiting hours were at nine, but I couldn’t wait a minute longer. When Valerie offered to take Colton to school this morning, I jumped at the opportunity, heading straight here as soon as she picked up Colton.

When the elevator doors open, I step out into another corridor, this one quieter than the main lobby. A nurses’ station stands at the center like a fortress, staffed by two people in scrubs who barely glance up as I approach.

“I’m looking for Kade Santos’s room,” I say, trying to keep my voice steady. “Room 412.”

The male nurse looks up, his expression neutral. “Are you family?”

There’s that question again. “Yes,” I lie for the second time this morning, hoping my face doesn’t betray me.

He studies me for a moment too long. “I’ll need to see some ID, ma’am. We have strict protocols for the trauma unit, especially for high-profile patients.”

My heart sinks. Of course they’d be careful with someone like Kade—a professional athlete whose injury was broadcast on live television.

I fumble in my purse for my driver’s license, already knowing it won’t be enough.

“I’m sorry, but your last name doesn’t match the patient’s,” he says after examining it. “I can’t let you through without proper authorization.”

“Please,” I say, my voice cracking. “I need to see him. I need to know he’s okay.”

“I understand, but rules are rules.” His tone is sympathetic but unyielding.

My entire body feels like it might shatter from the tension, from the need to see Kade’s face, to touch his hand, to make sure he’s still breathing.

“Ella?”

I turn at the sound of a familiar voice, and relief washes over me in a dizzying wave. Nate stands a few feet away, looking exhausted but composed in rumpled clothes that still somehow manage to look professional.

“Nate,” I breathe, stumbling toward him. “They won’t let me see him.”

His eyes—so like Kade’s, it makes my chest ache—soften as they meet mine. “She’s with me,” he tells the nurse. “I’ll take full responsibility.”

The nurse hesitates, then nods reluctantly. “Sign her in, please.”

As Nate scribbles on a clipboard, I try to collect myself, pushing my hair back from my face and wiping at eyes I hadn’t realized were wet.

“How did you know I was here?” I ask quietly.

“I didn’t,” he admits, handing the clipboard back to the nurse. “I was just coming back from getting coffee. Good timing, I guess. ”

He gestures for me to follow him down the corridor, and I fall into step beside him, trying to match his measured pace when all I want to do is run.

“How is he?” The question comes out more vulnerable than I intended.

“Stable,” Nate replies, his voice low. “Moderate concussion, but the CT scan was clear—no bleeding or fractures. They’re keeping him for observation. He’s been in and out of consciousness.”

“Has he been awake at all? Has he said anything?”

Something flickers across Nate’s face—something I can’t quite read. “Yes, he was awake for a little while earlier. He was asking about you.”

My steps falter. “He was?”

Nate nods. “He wanted to know if you had come to see him. If you had tried to go with him in the ambulance.”

“I did,” I whisper. “They wouldn’t let me.”

“I told him that.”

We walk in silence for a moment, the only sounds being our footsteps and the distant beeping of medical equipment. The fluorescent lights cast harsh shadows that make everything feel slightly unreal, like I’m moving through a dream.

We stop outside a door marked 412.

“I’ll leave you two alone,” Nate says, squeezing my shoulder gently .

With that, he turns and walks back down the hallway, leaving me standing by myself outside of Kade’s door.

I stare at the handle, my fingers trembling as I reach for it. So many possibilities lie on the other side—so many hopes and fears and unspoken words. For a moment, I’m paralyzed by the weight of it all.

But then I remember Kade on the ice, still and vulnerable. I remember Colton asking why Kade couldn’t be his dad. I remember my own voice in the ambulance bay, whispering those three words I’ve been too afraid to acknowledge, even to myself.

I take a deep breath and open the door.

The room is dimly lit, the only illumination coming from a small lamp in the corner and the glow of monitors surrounding the bed. Their rhythmic beeping fills the silence—a steady reminder that Kade’s heart is still beating, that he’s still here.

And then I see him.

He lies motionless, his large frame making the hospital bed seem small. There’s a bruise along his temple, purple and angry. Tubes and wires connect him to machines, measuring things I can’t see.

He looks so vulnerable. So human. So far from the invincible goalie who stops pucks traveling at impossible speeds.

I approach slowly, my footsteps muffled on the linoleum floor. His eyes are closed, his breathing deep and regular. Asleep or unconscious, I’m not sure which .

A chair sits beside the bed, and I lower myself into it, never taking my eyes off his face. While he sleeps, the years seem to fall away. I can almost see the boy I loved at seventeen—the one with bright eyes and big dreams who made me feel like anything was possible.

Before I can stop myself, I reach for his hand. It’s warm and solid in mine, his fingers limp but alive. I run my thumb over his knuckles, tracing the familiar contours of a hand I once knew as well as my own.

“Kade,” I whisper, my voice barely audible above the machines. “I’m here.”

He doesn’t stir, and somehow, that makes it easier. The words I’ve been holding back for so long—the ones I couldn’t say when he was looking at me with those earnest eyes—begin to spill out in the safety of his unconsciousness.

“I was so scared when I saw you on the ice,” I admit, tears welling up despite my efforts to contain them. “I don’t think I’ve ever been so terrified in my life.”

A tear slips down my cheek, and I brush it away.

“I realized then how I’ve been letting fear control me for too long,” I continue, my voice growing stronger.

“After losing Katie, after Landon walked out on us, I built these walls around my heart. I convinced myself that I was protecting Colton, but the truth is, I was protecting myself. I was so afraid of being hurt again that I wouldn’t let myself take a chance on you. On us. ”

The monitors beep steadily, a metronomic backdrop to my confession.

“But seeing you hurt made me realize that life is too short for that kind of fear. We don’t know how much time we have. And I don’t want to waste another minute pretending I don’t care about you when I do. So much.”

I squeeze his hand, willing him to hear me somehow, even in deep slumber.

“When Landon left, it wasn’t just Colton who felt abandoned.

I did, too. And I think part of me has been waiting for you to leave again.

To choose something else over me, just like you did before.

” My voice catches. “But you haven’t. You’ve been right here, showing up for Colton, showing up for me, even when I pushed you away. ”

Another tear falls, landing on our joined hands.

“The truth is, I’ve been unfair to you,” I admit. “I never gave you a chance to explain yourself all those years ago. I just ran. I was hurt and angry, and it was easier to hate you than to hear you out. Easier to blame you for everything than to admit I played a part, too.”

I take a shaky breath, gathering courage for the words that matter most.

“I love you, Kade. I don’t think I ever stopped loving you. Even all these years we were apart, there was always this Kade-shaped hole in my heart that no one else could fill. ”

The moment the words leave my lips, something changes. Kade’s fingers twitch in mine, then slowly, deliberately, curl around my hand.

My breath catches, and I look up to find his eyes open—those amber eyes I’ve dreamed about for a decade now looking at me with unmistakable clarity despite his condition.

“Kade?” I whisper, my heart skipping.