CHAPTER 18
LUCY
Everything was not OK. Well, I couldn't say it was unexpected, but reality hit me in the face, hard. I found myself crying in my car in the parking lot after I realized what was about to happen. For the next few months things were going to be shitty.
And now I had to tell Sasha.
The last thing I wanted to do was make him worry, but there was no way around getting surgery.
I couldn't hide it from him. I just didn't want to fuck up his skating.
Because, wow, the team was winning and every time I saw Sasha skate he was smiling, even when he was checking people into the boards.
A lot of hockey was about the mental head space of the players.
I didn't want to mess that up for anyone.
I had stopped at my mom's house first. Sarah was there, and I told them both. Being the amazing people they were they downplayed the severity and lifted me up with promises of help and the general shit family does. The three of us had always been all we needed and this felt no different.
Except that it was different now. Now I had a man who cared about me probably more than he should with how little time we've spent together. I could see it in the way he looked at me, could feel it in his touch, could appreciate it in the way he texted and called.
And I felt the same way even if I tried to convince myself the feelings I had were just a fluke, just some honeymoon phase that would go away. I was still feeling them and I still had to deal with the situation.
Lucy: Can you call me when you get to the hotel?
I texted and waited, knowing his plane would land soon. Maybe I should have waited for later but I knew if he didn't receive a text as he landed he would be suspicious. And I didn't want to give him the details to be misinterpreted over text. I needed to see him when I told him.
So, I made dinner and waited. I couldn't eat. I couldn't stop touching my stomach and feeling the hardness. I couldn't stop pacing my beautiful hardwood floors without going a little crazy. I couldn't stop looking at my schedule and trying to figure out how I was going to rearrange everything.
Buzz Buzz.
I jumped to the counter and answered the Facetime from Sasha.
“Hello?” I searched for his face.
“Babe? Is everything OK?” Sasha was just walking into a hotel room. I could see his door close behind him as I said hello.
I clutched my chest seeing the concern on his face. I didn't realize how much I just needed to see him, the way his eyes looked at me lovingly, longingly.
“Yes. I mean, yeah OK.” I wiped a tear from my face and sat down at the kitchen counter.
“What's going on? I'm kind of freaking out here. Sorry it took so long, I just didn't want to talk on the bus in front of everyone you know?” He sat down on the bed still in his traveling suit.
“I appreciate that. How was your flight?”
“Lucy.” His voice was strained.
“OK, sorry. I'm still coming to terms with my new fucking reality right now.” I took a deep breath.
“Well sit down!” He ground out through his teeth.
“I am sitting down!” I shouted.
There was a long pause as we both snapped at each other.
“I'm sorry.” We said in unison and then giggled.
That broke the tension and I felt a little lighter. His smiled warmed my insides and, fuck, the realization as to how much his presence meant to me washed over me like a flood.
“So, I'm getting surgery, um, in ten days.” I blurted it out.
“Ten days?” I saw him pull his phone away from his face and scroll, then I saw his face fall. “I'm going to be in Minnesota in ten days.”
His eyes seemed to glaze over and his head shook.
“Yeah, I know. I looked at the schedule.” I ran my fingers through my hair. “Sasha, I don't want this to affect you, you know? I am perfectly handled. My mom is going to come and stay with me for two weeks. I can get back to work in six weeks.”
“Six weeks! What kind of surgery is this? I was researching and I thought the majority of these things are done microscopically or whatever, like going through your belly button and shit.”
It warmed my heart to know he was gathering information when it came to my health. But I worried as I saw him going through the emotional stages I had just a few hours before. He didn't have to be doing this to himself. I didn't want him to mess up his concentration.
“The fibroids are too big for that so I basically have to get a c section. A six-inch scar above my pelvic bone. The recovery is just longer.”
“Shit. I didn't expect that.”
“I'll still look OK, I think.” I looked off to the side, not wanting to see his reaction to the fact I was going to have a big scar.
“I don't give a fuck about that Lucy. It's just that this is a serious surgery. And–fuck.”
Sasha's breath heaved, but he stayed silent for a few moments.
“I'll see if I can take a fine for skipping the game if they let me. But we are so close to the playoffs. Shit.”
“Sasha. I'm not asking you to be there for me. I know you can't be there.”
My heart skipped and sunk at the same time. He was going to skip a game for me? I didn't want him to do that or get into trouble. But, gosh, the thought was nice. The thought was amazing and I couldn't stop the stupid smile that crept into my cheeks.
His head landed in his hands. The phone flopped on his bed at an awkward angle.
Hockey was breaking his heart.
“No, I'm going to work something out. You're important to me, Lucy.”
“Whoa, whoa, whoa. I can see your downward spiral and we're not having that, Sasha. I've already cried. I'm over it. Now we're not letting this ruin your day.” I wish I could reach out and touch his shoulder, his face, anything.
“My day?” He spit out at me.
His face contorted, anger stole his handsome and I saw daggers shoot out at me.
“You think this is going to ruin my day? Lucy, I feel like I'm going to puke or pass out with the pain my heart is in right now. You don't get how I care for you? How much I love you?”
His words stopped me in my tracks. Love?
The way he said them with such heartbreak stole my breath away.
He loves me? Me, with my stupid foul mouth, flat ass and sawdust permanently in my hair?
The orgasms were great and I got the butterflies at the mention of his name, but in no way did I think he could be feeling the same feelings, the same strength as I was.
I couldn't say I loved him out loud, but only because the fear I had of being rejected by him. He could have anyone he wanted.
“I–I. We need to calm down.” I spit out.
“Calm down?” He jumped from the bed and paced the room. All I could see were his thighs as they walked back and forth. “Calm down!” He yelled. “I can't calm down!” He shouted and I heard something being thrown.
I never expected his reaction to be so dramatic, so painful. He was a feral dog in a cage, a wolf wild on the hunt. He mumbled and screamed and threw more things just out of my view.
I did the only thing I thought would make a difference.
“I love you too, Sasha.” It felt good to say it out loud.
The room fell silent and still. I no longer saw him pacing in anger. Sasha sat back down on the bed and picked up the phone, red faced and wet in just the corners of his eyes.
“What did you say?” He stared at my face, propped up on my hand at the kitchen counter.
“You heard me, but I'm pissed I had to say it under such circumstances.” I cocked an annoyed head in his direction.
“I lost it didn't I?” He grabbed his chest. “I feel like an asshole when I should have been listening to you.
I'm just really mad at the schedule, the timing, how I can't be wrapping you in my arms right now.
Hockey is fucking up my ability to be there for you right now and I've never hated it more.”
“Well, I can't say it isn't flattering your emotions are so high for me right now, but we have to look at the reality here. So, get a fucking glass of water or something so we can talk.”
“No.”
“No?” I questioned. He was playing a dangerous game by pushing my buttons.
“Say it again.” He smirked.
“Asshole.” I laughed. “I love you, Sasha.”
“OOO.” He clutched his chest and fell back on the bed. “I thought it was just me.”
“I thought it was just me and I was trying to play it cool.” I pulled at my hair. “I hate those girls that just swoon the first moment they meet a man and here I am, fucking swooning.”
“My dick is hard.” He giggled.
I cackled. After a day of worry and crying and stress I cackled like a witch so loud the neighbor's dog barked outside in worry. I covered my mouth and put the phone down so he could see the range of emotions laughter was pulling out of me.
“So, tell me what's going to happen.” He whispered.
“It's going to be fine. They put me under, they open me up and take out the things. An hour and a half later I wake up and six weeks later I can go back to work. Easy.”
“And they test the things for cancer?” He couldn't get that out of his head.
“Yes.” I breathed.
“OK, OK I'll talk to the team and see if I'll get a suspension for missing the game. I can take a private flight the next day for the next game.”
“Sasha, no. You're not going to miss a game or get a suspension. You're going to Facetime me before I go into surgery and my sister will call you when I am out.”
“Why don't you want me there?”
“It's not that I don't want you there, I just don't want to fuck up your job when the reality is you'll be sitting in a waiting room for two hours to see me for ten minutes before I fall asleep for the rest of the night. You can see me when you get back from Minnesota.”
“My job? It's a job, your a life. You're my–” Buzzing interrupted what he was going to say, but I could predict the statement he was going to make.
You're my everything? Life? Love? Any one of those options would have made me pass out with happiness.
A second later my phone buzzed as well, a text from Sarah.
More buzzing set off both of our phones like a hive.
“What is going on? Just give me a second while I look. I want to make sure everything is OK with Sarah. She never texts like this.” I minimized his face and went to my texts.
But I never should have looked.
A screen shot from Sarah nearly made me pass out. It was a RAG article, a picture of me hours ago outside the doctor's office, cradling my stomach. Tears streaming down my face. The headline reading. 'The Sarge's Girlfriend Pregnant!'
Sasha could see my face.
“What is it?”
“Check your texts.” I ended the Facetime, unable to keep my composure. I didn't want him to see me.
This was my worst fear about dating a hockey player. Someone was following me and invaded my personal privacy and then made up some stupid pregnancy story about the whole thing. I could feel heat prickle at my neck, my stomach flipped into knots. I wanted to throw up.
It brought back all the old memories of my father's death.
It wasn't just that he died in my arms, but newspaper after newspaper questioned why it took so long for me to get help, they placed my picture on the front page.
My life was a living hell with people commenting, making little suggestions about what really happened.
When no one cared what actually happened.
And now this. No, I wasn't pregnant, just going through a very scary personal matter that now I was going to have to explain just to prove I wasn't having the Sarge's baby.
Sasha: I don't know what to say other than I'm so sorry. I'll sue them, I'll make a statement. I'll kill whoever took that photo of you, just talk to me.
He tried multiple times to Facetime me but I denied them every single time.
I couldn't look at him with tears in my eyes. I didn't know if I could be so forgiving even though none of this was really his fault. Even if by default his life brought this embarrassment on to me. How could I go on after this? I was horrified.
Sarah: Are you OK? Come over right now!
Me: I'll be there in a minute
◆◆◆
Sasha: Lucy please, just tell me you are OK
Me: I'm not OK. I'm going to my sister's house. I know this isn't your fault. I just can't talk about it right now.
I sent the message and threw the phone across the room. Instead of smashing it, it landed on a throw pillow on the floor, which only made me angrier.
More texts came through and for the life of me I don't know why I read them. I guess I was expecting Sasha to plead with me, but he didn't. He didn't say anything. But then, he had always done exactly as I asked, without ever questioning why.
Nina asked if I was OK.
My mother called a few times.
Customers sent texts of congratulations even though by the picture on the article it looked like I was miserable.
I felt so violated.