CHAPTER 3
KIERAN
She was there.
Rila Hana Hill was standing on his room's door with a closed face, and her chin slightly tilted upward, like she always did when facing something that required some courage on her part.
He couldn't stop staring at her. Rila was really there. His Rila.
Fuck, she was prettier than he remembered. Actually, pretty was a word too small to describe Rila. Maybe there wasn't a single word that could describe that woman.
The black hair up in a ponytail made Kieran's fingers itch with a desire to release them.
He always liked how the straight strands flowed down her shoulders and still remembered the feeling of having them wrapped around his fist. Her dark eyes like coal, slightly slanted at the outer corner, were wide, and the heart-shaped mouth was a little open with surprise.
Rila has always had breathtaking beauty.
The thick and arched brows, prominent cheeks, and angled jaw could make anyone run out of air.
She radiated elegance wherever she went, everyone could see that she came from a wealthy family.
She was a Hill after all. Money and influence flowed through her veins, mixed with her blood.
— Hi — he was the first one to talk, his voice was out low, almost like a whisper to not startle her.
He knew her well enough to know that this moment was like stepping onto a frozen lake with a thin layer of ice. He didn't want her to turn around and run away.
— Kieran — she blinked repeatedly as if trying to make sure it wasn't an illusion.
And he got it because he felt the same way. Couldn't believe that she was there, standing by the door of his room and looking at him.
Rila. Rila. Rila.
Her name pounded repeatedly in his mind in the same rhythm as the beats of his heart.
He knew she had graduated and would probably stay in Boston because of her family, however, he never tried to find out which hospital she was in.
He stopped researching her years ago. He had to do that to try to forget and to stop his heart from hurting a little. And he achieved none of those things.
— What happened? — her body moved, almost taking one step into the room, but she stopped before she could do so.
Instead of coming in, one of her hands went to the door frame as if it was trying to stop herself from getting closer.
— I fell during the game and hit my head too hard, and they thought it would be better to do a CT scan — he shrugged.
His head hurt like a motherfucker, but he would survive. The team's medical staff was worried because he puked when they returned to the locker room, but they only forced him to come to the hospital after he took a quick shower and had to hold himself in the shower as dizziness kicked in.
Until a few seconds ago, he was pissed that had to come. However, now all he could think was that it was a good thing they had insisted.
Because she was here.
— Oh, ok. Good. CT scan is good — her head bobbed up and down — And our neuro team is good too. You're in good hands.
— Yeah, I'll be fine — he couldn't stop staring at her. Wanting to keep his eyes on her a little longer, he started talking again — So, you decided to go into neurology?
— No, I'm on my last but one year of emergency medicine — Rila tapped the badge hanging on the left side of her chest.
He couldn't read from that distance, but that information was probably there next to the small photo in the center. She was wearing the same dark red scrubs that some other employees wore, but it looked much better on her. Very much.
That wasn't a surprise, she looked beautiful wearing anything. Scrubs, hoodies, Christmas sweaters, ski clothes, fancy dresses, absolutely anything. But his favorite was when she wore only one of his t-shirts and nothing else.
— Oh, I wasn't aware that I needed an emergency doctor — Kieran raised one of his eyebrows.
This was his way of asking what she was doing there. Not at the hospital, since she obviously worked there. But, there in his room.
He wanted her to say that she came because of him, because she wanted to see him. And he knew he had no right to want that, not when he broke her heart on that Christmas Eve.
— You don't need one, but Dr. Feldman is busy, and she asked me to do a quick neurological exam, that's all.
She was lying.
Even after all these years, he could still tell when Rila was lying. She didn't know, but her right shoulder rose slightly whenever she was telling a lie, just like she did now.
— And you were gonna leave without doing your job? — he narrowed his eyes in defiance, and she glared back.
— You seemed busy.
She wasn't the type of person who looked away, no matter how uncomfortable the situation might be. Rila never backed down. And he always liked that.
Except on one specific night.
That night, Kieran wished he didn't have to look her in the eyes while he broke her heart.
— Well, I'm not, go ahead.
He saw her grit her teeth and mutter something incomprehensible between them before letting go of the doorway and taking the first step into the room. With her chin still up and her nose in the air, Rila approached the bed with confidence.
Any trace of hesitation and surprise seen previously disappeared, completely gone. This was another thing he liked about her, the way she didn't let anything shake her confidence when she had a goal in mind. Rila was one of the most fearless — and stubborn — people he had ever met.
— Look ahead, please — she took a small flashlight from the pocket on the right side of her chest — I'm gonna shine a light in your eyes, but it'll be quick.
— I'm all yours — his sentence made her eyes roll, and he didn't fight the tiny smile that tugged at the side of his lips.
Damn, Rila was really there. And she had no idea how incredibly full his heart felt for the first time in years. It was like finding the last puzzle piece that he thought was lost. Now, Kieran just needed to fit it. And he knew this part would be incredibly difficult.
— Follow my finger with your eyes — Rila stared at him with seriousness, her professional side totally in control.
When her index finger rose to her nose, Kieran noticed that she wasn't wearing a ring. In neither hand.
As soon as she was satisfied, she lowered the hand, and his gaze slid to her neck, looking for a chain with a ring hanging from it.
Nothing. Not even a mark on her fingers. Apparently, she wasn't married or engaged.
Thank God.
— Headache? — she crossed her arms and stood next to the gurney, her body so close he could pull her on top of him with a single movement.
— A little — he admitted.
But since this wasn't the first time he'd been crushed or beaten on the rink, he wasn't worried. He's been in worse shape before. Much worse.
— Dizziness? Nausea? Memory loss?
— No, no, and no.
— Ok, great — her arms fell to her sides, and he could see that she was getting ready to leave — Someone from the neuro department will be here in a few minutes to talk to you about your case.
— Yeah, they'll say that the CT came back clean, no bleeding, but that I had a concussion, and I'll need to rest for forty-eight hours and gradually return to my work — he saw her take a deep breath and purse her lips tightly — Then, I'll be discharged and wait for the security guards to get rid of the reporters at the door so I can leave.
— You've already been treated — it wasn't a question, but he nodded anyway.
Kieran had arrived about thirty or forty minutes ago, and it didn't take long to have the CT scan done and the head of neurology giving him instructions.
Being a famous player had its advantages, but it also had the part that getting in and out of a hospital took longer than the treatment itself because of the group of desperate journalists blocking the doors.
Having to deal with the press was the worst part of the job.
He loved hockey, but didn't love the headlines.
If they wanted to interview him to talk about the game, he would have no problem sitting down and spending a few minutes dissecting the plays.
The problem was they usually didn't want just that.
No, most journalists wanted drama and gossip.
Are you dating someone? Is it true that the model in the VIP area is your new girlfriend? Someone said they're pregnant with your baby, what do you have to say about it?
A bunch of shit.
Kieran knew this was part of the job, but God, how he hated it.
He just wanted to play the game he loved, have fun with his teammates, and win the Stanley Cup.
Lifting that gigantic cup was the big dream, it was what he has been fighting for since his father took him to the ice for the first time, when he was five.
— Ok, good luck with your recovery — she gave a slight nod and began to turn around.
His heart quickened in response. The idea of her leaving through that door made his body tense, he couldn't let her go just yet.
— Rila, wait — his hand shot up to her wrist, his rough, calloused fingers curling into her soft skin.
Immediately, her dark eyes landed where they touched, and her throat moved as she swallowed hard. The position of Kieran's thumb allowed him to feel how her pulse sped up, and he knew her heartbeat matched his.
Fast and strong.
Kieran's heart seemed to fight against his ribcage, wanting to break free to go where it belonged. With her.
— Yes? Do you need something else? Medically speaking — her tone came out harsh and full of fire, but Kieran never minded getting burned on her.
— No, I need… — he stopped mid-sentence, the words getting stuck in his throat.
You. That’s what he wanted to say. However, he knew he had no right to say those words, not after what he put her through.
And really, what kind of crazy person would say something like that to someone they hadn't spoken to in six years? He couldn't just go around saying things as if there wasn't a temporal gap between them.
— We need to talk — he said, simple and direct, like he always was.
— No, we don't. What happened is in the past.
— Exactly, it's been years since we've seen each other, we should catch up — in fact, it had been precisely five years, nine months, and twenty-one days.
Yes, he was counting. Never stopped.
She didn't respond, her dark eyes unfocused by some thought Kieran couldn't decipher. Then, understanding the silence as encouragement, he spoke again.
— I need to talk to you. Maybe we could go out for coffee or something.
— We can't — Rila pulled her arm hard, forcing him to let go of her, and took a step back, away from the bed — It's against medical ethics to go out with a patient.
— I'm not just any patient, and we both know that you were never a rule-follower — a small puff of air came out of his nose, full of teasing.
— We haven't seen each other for six years, Kieran, you know nothing about me anymore — she practically spat out the words, her eyes filled with anger and hurt.
It was as if knives were being slowly thrust into his body, cutting him millimeter by millimeter. And he knew he deserved it.
— I get that you're still hurt — he saw her chin rise a bit more, as if that would make her superior to the feelings that were boiling inside her — But you need to give me a chance to fix it.
Kieran knew he fucked it up as soon as the words left his mouth. If there was one thing Rila Hill hated, it was being told she had to do something.
Damn it, why was he so bad with words? Why couldn't a conversation be as simple as playing hockey?
— You know what, you're right… you are not just any other patient — she opened a fake smile, one of her hands came up to the side of her face, and she flipped him the bird — You're an idiot who has no right to tell me what I need to do.
It didn't take more than a heartbeat for her to get out, leaving him alone again.
Kieran knew that fixing this situation wouldn't be easy.
It was Rila, of course she would make things difficult for him.
And not just because she was stubborn, but because she was right, considering what happened that night.
Except that what he said almost six years ago wasn't true, every word that came out of his mouth in that argument was a lie.
Bitter and painful lies that, at the time, were necessary.
The problem was that now these lies were no longer useful, but they had taken root too deeply, and he couldn't just rip them out at once.