Page 84 of The Understatement of the Year

“What did Isaywhen I was out of it?”

She avoided my eyes. “You just kept calling for Rikker. And whenever he walked away, you’d start yelling for him again.”

Unfortunately, that sounded awfully familiar. I remembered being really confused about where I was, and how I’d gotten hurt.

And I’d assumed the worst.

“Shit.” Even now I fended off a shudder. And now I knew why I’d woken up with my hockey helmet in my hand. Someone was trying to help me remember what happened.

Rikker.

“Why didn’t he get on the bus with the rest of the team?” There was panic rising in my throat, and when I swallowed, I tasted bile.

Bella’s eyes narrowed at me. “What would you have him do? The choice was between staying with you, which you demanded out loud to anyone who would listen. Or walking away while you shouted his name. He did his fucking best, Graham.”

Rikker walked in then, carrying a white cup of coffee. After he sipped from it, he made a face. Pointing at Bella, he said, “You gotgoodcoffee. Where’s mine?”

“Patience,” she snapped. “I will drive you both to get something when Graham is released.”

“I’m just going to go over some instructions with you all, and then he can go,” the doctor said. I’d actually forgotten she was in the room with us. “These are for whomever will care for you.” The doctor held out a sheaf of papers. Bella took a half step forward, as if to take them. But then she bit her lip and looked at Rikker.

My boyfriend reached out to take the paperwork.

“Read it through carefully,” the doctor said. “He can’t do it himself, because he’s not supposed to read anything for a while, until the headaches stop.”

“That will make midterms fun,” I grumbled.

“I’ll read them,” Rikker said gruffly.

“Now listen up,” the doctor said. “You’re going to need a lot more sleep than usual. No reading. No aerobic exercise…”

After the doctor gave us a ten-minute lecture about all the things I wasn’t supposed to do for at least two weeks, we went outside. I thought I’d felt bad before, but out in the sun it was ten times worse. The light glinted off the snow banks at the edges of the parking lot. And the glare went like a needle straight to my brain.

“Uhhn,” I complained.

“The car is just right over here,” Bella said, pointing at a green rental sedan. “Graham, you can have shotgun or the back seat. Wherever you’re going to be the most comfortable.”

I didn’t think it mattered. I was going to be miserable no matter what. My head still felt as if angry gorillas had beaten on it. “I’ll take the back,” I said, opening the rear door.

“You know, I’d be happy to drive,” Rikker offered.

Bella shot him a glare over the hood of the car. “News flash, Rik. Even though I possess a vagina, I’m still capable of driving a car.”

He held his hands up in submission. “Easy, Bella. I was just trying to be helpful. One would think that you’d spent all night in a plastic hospital chair. Oh wait, that was me.”

She got in and cranked the engine. “And that’s why I’m driving. I’m the only one who slept. Also, I know where the Starbucks is.”

“I won’t argue with that,” Rikker mumbled. He reclined the passenger seat a few degrees and let out a weary sigh.

“I’m sorry,” I said as Bella pulled the car around the hospital’s drive circle.

“For what?” She asked. “Getting tripped by that fucker last night? Rikker and I will live. We might even stop bitching at each other.”

Putting my head back, I covered my eyes with my forearm. Everything was just so fricking bleak. I’d never been injured at hockey before — not like this. The worst I’d had were bruises and strained muscles. Before we’d left the hospital, the doctor had been careful to tell me that it wasn’t clear yet how much time I’d need to heal. At least two weeks. But I had a bad feeling.

The car made a couple more turns and then stopped. “Do you mind going in for us?” Rikker asked. “I’d really appreciate it.”

I was sure that Bella would tell Rikker to go and buy his own damned coffee. But she didn’t. “Double cappuccino with skim milk?”