27. Callum
27
CALLUM
“ R emind me again… how sure are you that he doesn’t have brain damage?” I hear Eloise ask somewhere in the recesses of my mind.
“There’s no way to be one hundred percent sure until he wakes up, but we’ve reviewed the footage from the game, Ms. Grey, and his helmet didn’t come off until he was already down. We’ve X-rayed his spinal cord, his brain, and his neck. He doesn’t have any new injuries. The blow he took was nasty. Whatever caused him to pass out was most likely shock from the hit. Our bodies will shut down to protect themselves.”
There’s a softness, a tingling in my fingertips, and then a gentle squeeze. It’s her. She’s proof there is a God. She’s my lifeline, always has been. Her thumb runs over the back of my hand, and I try hard to respond, to find my way back to her.
“Cal,” she whispers my name with hope. That must mean the twitch I thought I felt was real, and I am regaining control of my body. “I think he’s waking up.”
“That’s good. The sedatives we used for surgery should be out of his system. It’s been twenty-four hours.”
Surgery? Twenty-four hours? I’ve been out for twenty-four hours. My eyelids flutter as I try to open them. The more consciousness ebbs its way back in, the more sensations appear. The tingling I felt in my hands now feels heavy, as does the rest of my body. The parts of my body that were dormant are now beginning to ache. I groan in pain, and I feel Eloise’s hand run through my hair, the sensation of her fingertips pulling at the strands easing some of the agony.
“Is he in pain? Can we give him more medicine?” she asks.
“Whatever pain he feels is most likely more discomfort than anything. He’s not a stranger to taking hard hits. I can make him comfortable when he wakes, but I’d like him to wake before I give him more. I will step out of the room and alert one of the nurses. Keep talking to him. Hearing the voice of loved ones is proven to help wake patients from comas.”
“Cal, I’d like you to wake up now,” she says in a mocking tone that seems unfitting of the woman who seemed concerned moments ago, then adds, “So I can kick your ass.” On the inside, I’m smirking. “You’re an ass, you know. You promised to always give me an O and broke your promise.” There’s a pause, and I wish like hell that I could see her pretty face. If I had to guess, she’s pursing her pink lips, her gaze intently fixed on my face, waiting for a sign that I can hear the lashing she’s dealing me now. I’m sure a tiny piece of her believes I’m pulling a stunt, waiting for the exact right moment to respond with a one-liner that says I heard everything. Then I feel her fix my blanket, a fidget I’m confident she’s done countless times waiting for me to wake up. “And you owe me a scar. The side of my face doesn’t count. Your dad gave me that one.”
There’s another pause, but this time, she takes my hand. Holding it between hers, I feel her hair drape over my arm as she kisses my hand. “Callum, if you can hear me, please wake up. I know they said you should make a full recovery, but I can’t believe it, not until you wake up. Maybe I’m being overly emotional, but it can’t be helped. Watching you take that hit was hard. There’s never a good hit to be had, but this one was different.” She grips my hand tighter. “I had to watch the horror on our son’s face.” Her voice cracks, and so does my heart. Fuck. “When he didn’t see his dad get back up and, Cal, it nearly broke me. I’ve always had you. Even when we weren’t together, I knew you’d be there for me and Adler if we needed you. The thought of you not being here is unbearable. It’s a pain I never want to feel again. I don’t want to know what it’s like not to have you.” She brings my hand to her lips again, and in their tremble, I find my strength to return to her. “So, you see, I need you to wake up?—”
“If I wake up, will you take my last name?” I croak as my eyes slowly flutter open, and hers dart up to mine. I witness the relief that floods her expression as her sad mouth curves into the start of a smile.
“Are you asking me to be your wife?”
“If that’s what it takes to make you mine so that you never have to go another day not having me in every way.” My thumb runs over hers. “I’m sure they have a chaplain on staff. We can get married right now.”
She’s out of her chair, her head snuggling into the side of my neck as she breathes deeply, the same way I do every time I hold her in my arms. Her scent is home. Releasing me sooner than I’m ready, her hands cradle my face as her ocean eyes land on mine. “I can’t marry you.”
My eyes narrow, and I know I have it wrong. She can’t possibly mean those words literally.
“I want a wedding.”
There it is. Wait, what did she just say? “You do?” I question, a little surprised.
“Yes, a big one,” she confirms, turning my surprise into shock.
“Really? I wouldn’t have thought that, considering you don’t like the spotlight.”
This time, her smile almost reaches her eyes. “Why wouldn’t I want a big wedding where I get to announce to the world that you are mine?” She releases my hand and swats my chest. “Don’t you ever scare me like that again.”
“Hmph,” I grunt as I catch her hand. “I had to wake up. I didn’t want to miss one second of watching you grow, my little girl.”
“Cal, I just stopped taking the pill. We aren’t pregnant yet.”
“Are you sure about that?”
“Yes…” She furrows her brow as though a thought just occurred to her, but before I can ask her about it, the doctor returns.
“Ahh, Mr. Balfour, our patient is awake. How are you feeling?”
“Sore and parched.”
“Oh, let me get your drink.” Eloise moves quickly to my side and brings the water cup on the table to my lips.
I take countless large pulls, downing half the cup before getting any relief. “That’s better. Besides my incredibly dry mouth, I feel like I got hit by an army tank.”
“Yes, well, you did take a substantial hit on the ice before your tendon was cut. The surgery and meds aren’t doing you any favors either. Your body is used to the physical stress of such a physically demanding game. However, it is not used to the stresses from surgery. The incisions, the tissue manipulation, stitches, and anesthesia affect how fit you feel now.”
“Surgery?” I question as I look down at my body.
“After you took the initial hit, you collided with two other players. As you all fell, one of the Cyclone defensemen’s blades sliced the back of your leg right above your skate, severing your Achilles tendon and cutting a few minor arteries, which caused for more blood loss than usual.”
I grimace. That sounds disgusting. I wouldn’t say I have a weak stomach. I’ve seen my fair share of injuries but fuck.
“I’m afraid you won’t make it back on the ice this week, but with rest and physical therapy, there’s no reason you shouldn’t make a full recovery.”
I close my eyes. Finding out I won’t be able to help my team in the most important games of their careers is devastating. We worked our asses off for a shot at the cup. I was already doubting my ability to lead them before getting hurt, and now I feel like a complete failure.
“Cal, are you okay?” Eloise squeezes my arm. “Can we get him something to manage his discomfort?”
“The nurse will be in shortly with some medicine. I’d like to stay away from opioids unless the pain is unbearable. Anti-inflammatories should be sufficient for pain management,” the doctor remarks.
“Extra strength ibuprofen will be fine,” I say, halfway wishing I hadn’t opened my eyes. This was not a diagnosis I was expecting. “When will I be discharged?”
He looks at his watch. “It’s evening now. I’d like the nurses to walk with you at least once. We’ve already taken X-rays from head to toe and checked your vitals, and now that you’re awake and conscious, I see no reason you can’t leave first thing in the morning.”
“Can we expedite that? I’d like to recover in my bed tonight because I’ll be going to the stadium tomorrow.”
The doctor nods in understanding. “I’ll get your release paperwork drawn up. I assume you want a boot over a cast.”
“Hell yes, no cast.” Casts fucking suck. They completely immobilize the area they are put on, and you can’t take them off to shower.
“I’ll start working on getting you out of here,” he says before leaving the room.
“I’m so sorry, Cal. I know hearing you can’t finish out the season is hard, but at least you’ll make a full recovery.”
“Did we at least win?” I ask, feeling dejected.
“We did.” She sighs. “I think they were pumped to avenge you after watching you get hauled off the ice, but we lost today.” She shrugs. “If you’re serious about going tomorrow, I think it could help. The guys are aware of what happened, but hearing you’re awake and seeing you in person will boost morale.”
I let my lungs deflate and release that which I can’t change. This diagnosis sucks, but the fact that it’s not soul-crushing says something. The last thing I have space in my mind for is processing those emotions. My son is at home, waiting for an update, and my father… “Have you heard from Iverson? Has he been able to find my father?”
“We don’t have to talk about that right now?—”
“No, I need something to take my mind off this.” I nod toward my useless leg. “Finding him and ensuring he pays for every crime is something I can still control.”
“I get that.” She rolls her lips. “He’s in New York.”
I run my hand through my hair. “What’s in New York?”
“He’s staying at a hotel close to JFK, but the room isn’t in his name. He’s staying with another woman. It appears he’s having an affair.”
That news would surprise most but not me. He’s vile. I’d expect nothing less. “Where’s Keely?”
“We don’t know.” She sits on the edge of my bed. “She’s been missing since the night of our accident. Apparently, after she called Blair, she went dark.” Her eyes find mine. “We don’t think it’s your dad.” She holds her hand up and makes a face. “Let me rephrase that. We don’t think your dad is responsible for her disappearance. When I spoke to Iverson last night, I told him about the visit Austin paid us at the bar. He believes there’s a good chance she’s MIA because she’s going after him.”
Lying awake at night and going over all the things I’d say to my father the next time I saw him, I asked myself, would my childhood have looked different if I had found an ally in Keely? Knowing someone else is struggling the same sucks, but there’s strength in discovering you’re not alone. I’ve found that the answers to the questions are moot. They don’t change anything, but they have given me a different perspective. Of course I want to be the one to make my father pay for the hell he cost me, but whose hell was worse, mine or hers? Who gets to land the final blow? I wanted to be his executioner, but if he suffers even if not by my hand, is it not enough?
Eloise’s hand mindlessly lifts mine, and she drops her eyes to our fingers, which tells me she’s not sold on her brother’s theory. “And what do you think?”
She purses her lips. “I think it’s a possibility, but Dash is missing too.”
Dash adds another layer to all of this no one saw coming. He was a close friend to Eloise before she ever found out they shared any blood. I know she’s dying to talk to him now, and because she can’t, she’s spiraling.
“Blondie, Dash left after he overheard what your mother told us. He left on his own, and we both know he’s good at getting lost. We won’t hear from him until he’s ready to be found.”
“What if that’s never?”
“I don’t think that will be the case. He just had a lot of information thrown into his lap. The last thing he was expecting to find when he accepted that job with The Wild was his birth parents. You said when you were stuck in that cabin, he told you he knew he was adopted. During that conversation, did he happen to mention if he ever tried to look for his birth family?”
She shakes her head.
“Dash told you he had a good life. Not everyone who is adopted is searching for a past that didn’t want them. They accept the cards they were dealt and make peace with what is. He just needs time. We, of all people, know that space and time, while not always ideal, help us find our way.”
I know she hears what I’m saying, but it doesn’t mean it makes any of this easier.
“Iverson thinks your father is staying close to the airport so that on your birthday when the funds would be fully accessible to you, he can transfer them to an offshore account and leave.”
I guess we’re changing the subject. I get it, though; like me, she doesn’t want to discuss something she can’t change. Dash doesn’t want to be found, and there’s nothing she can do about it.
“Iverson was able to pull some strings with a friend of a friend and get a small team on standby for forty-eight hours. They will rent rooms in the same hotel the day before your birthday and follow your father if he leaves the hotel.”
“And your mother is still on board?”
“Yes, she’s already tipped off the shareholders and reached out to the owner personally, who will be sitting in wait, watching the account’s activity from the bank live with her.”
“Wow.” My eyes widen. “That seems like a big ask. I guess your mom is out for blood, too.” Makes sense. My father ruined her marriage, and he threatened her daughter. I’d stop at nothing to ensure he paid if the roles were reversed.
She pauses and squeezes my hand. “I know you’ve mentioned you never cared about the money, but, Cal, your mother had a lot of money, and that money has been sitting there your entire life, making money. The investors of that bank aren’t in a hurry to see it leave. Your trust fund rivals the one I had.”
Eloise is right. I’ve never cared about my inheritance. A lot of that had to do with my father. He held money over my head my whole life. I didn’t want anything that gave him power over me. But this news brings me back to the thoughts I’ve stifled for years. I started playing hockey for my mom, knowing it would have brought her joy, made me happy. Then it became a way to stay away from home until finally it became my only way to survive. Playing hockey was my meal ticket when I told my dad to go to hell. It’s what I needed to do to provide for my family and be worthy of standing next to Eloise. So where does that leave me now?
The answer to that question won’t be found tonight. First, I need to get out of this hospital. I need to hold my son. I need to be with my family. At the moment, every choice feels like a sacrifice, and I know when it’s right, when it’s what was always meant to be, it won’t.