Backcheck Heart: An L.A. Crush Hockey Novella (Nashvellas & Novels)

Chapter 11

The past fewweeks with Morgan have been incredible. We mostly stayed in our bubble, avoiding the press and anywhere gawkers might pop up. I’m not hiding our relationship, but I don’t want Morgan to have to deal with the scrutiny that comes with dating an NHL player until it’s absolutely necessary.

I get the idea that she is usually out at more parties and influencer events than she has been this month, but since one of her coworkers had to take unexpected leave to care for a sick parent, she’s been flying more. I wouldn’t mind if I weren’t going into training camp.

My next three weeks will be filled with games, team meetings, and strategy sessions. The only silver lining is that we’ll be in town. If our schedules line up, I might be able to meet her for lunch or coffee. I won’t hold my breath, though. At least we can still text and call.

“You’re later than usual,” Danvers notes as I enter the locker room for our first practice. I’m used to his out-of-pocket comments by now. I simply ignore him, which he hates only slightly less than my pretending to appease his concerns. I spent last night with Morgan and very reluctantly left her in my bed to make it here. It may not be my typical hour early, but there is still a solid twenty minutes before we hit the ice.

“D, it’s not your business when people get here as long as they’re on time,” Mikelson chides.

“Why not?”

“Because it just isn’t,” our big man sighs.

“Keeping the kid in line is aging you,” Connor teases him.

“Someone has to do it,” Mikelson replies. “And I don’t see you volunteering.”

“I manage the grump. Besides, Danvers catching social cues would be as shocking as Nokavik getting a movie reference. Let the kid sink or swim on his own. If he’s ballsy enough to poke the bear, then he is ballsy enough to get his ass mauled.”

“In case it wasn’t clear, you’re the bear,” he directs my way.

“Got that,” I respond.

Sitting in the chair beside my locker, Connor continues to engage me in conversation as I get into my gear. “Haven’t seen you around as much.”

“Been busy.”

“Busy with a blonde smokeshow?”

“Maybe. What’s it to you?” I narrow my eyes at him.

“It’s rude for me to ask why he’s late but not for Connor to ask about his girlfriend?” Danvers asks. I don’t hear Mikelson’s answer as I refocus my attention on my friend.

“Touchy, touchy,” Connor laughs. “I’m happy for you. I wouldn”t have picked you to be the next man down, but I think it’s great.”

“If you’re that lonely and missing me, I bet Morgan has a friend she can introduce you to,” I tease.

“If all you fuckers keep falling in love on me, I might take you up on that.” Patting my shoulder, he gets up to greet players who arrived while I sit there with my world completely rocked.

Love? Do I love Morgan? It is way too soon to admit that, but I don’t hate the idea of it. I don’t know if I’m ready to say I love her, but I am getting there. Despite her bubbly energy opposing my chill demeanor, she is a balm to my soul. She’s a lighthouse in a storm, calling out to me and showing me the way home. If things keep going the way they are, it won’t take long for me to be ready to say those three little words.

It’s time I told Andre about what”s happening. I’ve held off because I didn’t want to hear all his ideas on how I can use this relationship to my advantage. But at this point, people will spot us out sooner rather than later, and I’d prefer we have a game plan in place for protecting my girl.

This year’scamp was more grueling than any I’ve participated in. Maybe it’s because the rookies were not up to par. Or maybe for the first time since I was drafted, I had somewhere else I wanted to be. Morgan and I were only able to meet up twice in the last three weeks and both were quick. To say I miss her is an understatement.

We were supposed to grab lunch yesterday, but she canceled on me at the last minute. She also hasn’t texted me all day, which is unlike her. It may be overstepping, but I am headed to her place to see what’s up. The guys would tell me I am being too intense, but I can’t shake the feeling that something is wrong.

When I pull up to her place, I notice her car out front. That”s good; it means she”s home. After a few knocks, the door swings open, and Madison answers.

We both stand there staring at one another until I break the silence. “Is Morgan home?”

“Does she know you’re coming?”

“I texted her.”

“That’s not really the same thing.”

“Can I come in? I want to check and make sure she’s okay. She is okay, right?”

“If you consider puking her guts out for eighteen hours, okay, then sure. It’s perfect you’re here, actually. I was about to go to my boyfriend’s for unobstructed bathroom access.”

My gut swells with worry and fury. Her roommate is sick, and Madison was going to leave her here on her own. What if she needed something or got worse?

As Madison heads toward her room, I barrel into the apartment. The bathroom is empty, meaning Morgan must be in her room. I knock softly on the door but open it without waiting for a response. My girl is curled up in a ball on her side, covers thrown fitfully off.

Approaching the bed, I push sweaty blonde strands off her face. Pressing my lips to her forehead, I can tell she has a slight temperature. I want to give her something for it, but I don’t know if she’s taken anything already. Her useless roommate is already gone, though I doubt she would have known. I have no choice but to wake Morgan up.

“Baby,” I coo. “Baby, can you wake up for me?”

Her eyes blink open slowly. “Ralphie? Wh-what are you doing here?”

“I came to check on you when you didn’t answer me all day. I’m glad I did. You need someone to take care of you.”

“What? No. You can’t be here. I’m sick. You’ll get sick. I got a stomach bug from a passenger on yesterday’s flight. You can’t get sick before the first game of the season.”

“I have a few days before then. I’ll be fine. Plus, I have an iron stomach.”

“You shouldn’t see me like this,” she whines. The sound hurts my heart.

Despite our conversation that first morning, seeing Morgan looking anything but perfect is a rarity. Even on nights we plan only to watch a movie, she comes over made up. She finally stopped putting on makeup in the mornings after nights she did her skincare routine. She may have thought I didn’t know, but I pay too close attention to her not to notice when her blonde eyelashes are black.

“I should absolutely see you like this. I don’t want you only at your best, Zlatí?ko. I want your worst, too. Let me take care of you.”

Before she can argue, another wave of cramps passes through her, and she clutches her stomach in pain.

“Have you taken anything?” I ask.

“Can’t. Keep It. Down,” she pants. The pitiful whimpers that leave her lips are almost my undoing.

“Hold tight. I’m going to fix it.”

Pulling my phone out of my pocket, I dial the one number I think can help.

“This better be good,” Fitz grumbles. “I haven”t had any time with my woman during camp.”

“It’s your ‘woman’ I want to talk to,” I say, skipping the pleasantries.

“Why?”

“Can you put Tabby on the phone? Please.” I add that last part to remind myself not to snap at my friend and that I need the expertise of his nurse wife.

“I’ll put it on speaker,” he begrudgingly agrees.

“What’s up, Nokavik?” a feminine voice asks through the phone.

“How do you treat the stomach bug?”

“Yikes. That’s been going around. Are you sure you have it? I think you’d be puking your guts up by now.”

“I don’t have it. Someone else does.”

“Oh. OH! Is this the girlfriend Fitzy has been telling me about?”

“Yeah,” I say before she can waste time with any more questions. “She has a slight fever and hasn’t been able to keep anything down. What can I do?”

“How long has she been sick?”

“Eighteen hours, give or take.”

“Geez, okay. She is past the worst of it now, I’d imagine. She needs fluids with electrolytes. Ginger tea and chicken broth can also help. Don’t give her anything but water until an hour after vomiting, if you can. She’ll be more likely to keep it down.

“As far as her fever goes, if it isn’t too high, she should sweat it out. It’s a sign her body is fighting the illness, but a room-temperature bath or shower will cool her off in a pinch. If not, acetaminophen is your best bet. You can also use a wet washcloth to help cool her off.

“She’ll need plenty of rest, and you should disinfect anything she touches to keep it from spreading. If you’ve already had contact with her, it may be too late for you.”

“I’ll be fine. Thank you for the advice.”

“Let me know if you need anything else.”

“Thank you. I’ll let Fitz have you back now.”

“Thank Christ,” I hear muttered through the phone, followed by a yelp of pain.

Ending the call, I pull up my grocery delivery app and order everything I need. She may already have some of it, but better safe than sorry. I include chicken soup from a deli I know she loves. I will have been here for over an hour by the time it gets here. If she doesn’t get sick again, I can get fluids in her right away.

I desperately want to give her something to regulate her fever, but I don’t want to stop her body from doing its job. Running a washcloth under the water, I head back into her bedroom to wait for provisions to arrive.