Chapter Twenty-Four
Leo
A voice cuts through a dense fog.
“We should prank him.”
“That’s a terrible idea, mate,” says another, deeper voice. “One of your worst.”
“Why? It’d cheer him up.”
“If I were laid out after a game, only a good Sheila or a stiff drink would cheer me up.”
I blink my eyes open, emerging from a dreamless, painkiller-induced nap in a hard hospital bed. The smell of isopropyl alcohol seeps into my nose.
Callum lifts his arms. “He lives!”
Nic, filling the second empty chair by my bedside, props his elbows on his knees. “How you doing, bud?”
“Where’s Sadie?”
A pause follows my question as Callum and Nic look at each other.
“Coach.” I think about sitting up, but it doesn’t feel worth the effort. I’ve avoided painkillers like the plague for a reason. “Is she here?”
“Oh, Sadie. Sometimes I forget Coach has a first name. Yeah, she’s here.
” Callum rises to his feet. Fucker is tall when he’s standing bedside.
“She’s been pacing outside your door and harassing the nurse like a feral kitten, but no one will tell her anything.
” His brows crash together. “What happened out there, dude? Is your shoulder dislocated? Did you hit your head?”
It comes rushing back. Pain so blinding I passed out. The relocation, the scan, the chatter.
SLAP tear, type four.
Pull his history. Traumatic origin?
Cervical involvement, secondary.
Fatigue and dehydration, tertiary.
Everything I suspected. Everything I feared.
“Get Sadie,” is all I manage.
He blinks. “Oh.”
I hope the look I give him is as menacing as I intend it to be.
“Oh, you’re like…really into her, aren’t you? Shit, I knew it. You two couldn’t stop eye-fucking each other at your house that night.”
“Shut up.”
“No, it’s cool. We’ll keep it a secret. You can trust us.”
“You can,” Nic assures him.
“It’s not technically against the rules, by the way,” Callum continues. “Some of the guys Googled it when they saw how hot she is—”
“Stop talking,” I growl. “For the rest of your fucking days.”
“Right. I’ll grab her.” Callum makes it to the doorway before turning around to snap his finger at Nic. “C’mon. They don’t need an audience.”
Sadie bursts through the door seconds after they clear it.
I force myself to sit up so she doesn’t see me as the pathetic heap I am. “Come here.”
“What’d they say?” She slows her walk, terror etched in her eyes. “What is it?”
“SLAP tear.” I press my molars together. “Level four.”
I don’t have to say it. She knows what it means.
I’m done. It’s over.
She comes to a dead stop, squints her eyes shut, and tips her head back to take a deep breath. It’s the same thing she does on the sideline during a stressful game, like she’s summoning her composure.
“It’s okay.”
The distance between us evaporates to nothing as she finally comes to me. Her warm hand cups my cheek, but I’m keenly aware she’s looking at the window to make sure we’re not seen. The last thing we need is for her to get in trouble right now on top of everything else.
I’m still her player.
A useless one.
The shake in her voice makes me feel even worse. She’s probably reliving one of the worst days of her life right alongside mine.
“I know there’s nothing I can say to make it hurt less,” she murmurs.
I manage a nod. The gesture is less painful with whatever they’ve got me on. “Just glad you’re here.”
She stares down at me. Selfishly I wish she could crawl in this bed and lie beside me.
“How long have you been lying to me?”
The question lands like a weight on my chest.
“I haven’t been lying to you.”
“You never got better, did you? You never should’ve passed that first physical.
But you tricked him into thinking you were fine so he wouldn’t send you for scans.
Then you just kept pushing, and pushing, and pushing.
” She shakes her head. “You’ve been lying to everyone.
But specifically me, the person in charge of making sure you’re okay. ”
I drop her gaze, guilt and frustration packing a one-two punch in my gut.
“Making sure I’m okay is not part of your responsibilities as a coach.
As the woman I’m seeing, yes, I fucked up in keeping things from you.
But as a coach, the fact that my shoulder hurts sometimes, or that I get headaches, wasn’t necessary information for me to disclose. There was no official diagnosis.”
Because I gritted my teeth through the physical.
I’ve been lying through my teeth to everyone. And I’ve never hated myself more.
“Hurts sometimes?” Her voice is scarily calm. “You blacked out on the ice from a minor scuffle. One sideways hit sent you to the ground, where you could’ve been concussed. And Philly—your shoulder froze, didn’t it? Or did the headache blindside you? You can’t tell me the pain was minor.”
“We had games to win,” I bite out. “I was putting the pain aside, like all athletes do, to help us get the job done. I was doing it for you, not to you. For all of us. It was working just fine.”
Until it wasn’t.
Her caressing hand falls away. “Winning games is not the be-all end-all for me. You, more than anyone, should know that.”
“But it has to be. That’s your job. You…” I sit up straighter. “Is that why you made me captain? Because you suspected something was wrong and you wanted to keep me on a tight leash?”
“Don’t be ridiculous. I’m not that calculating.” She shakes her head, eyes shining. “But you are. All this time you’ve been keeping this from me. How could you—”
“Because you’d think I was worthless! How can you not understand that?
You’ve been where I am. You’ve looked down the barrel of the end, but unlike me, you had something better waiting on the other side.
I have nothing.” I try to lower my voice, but the damage is done.
On top of everything else, I’ve yelled at the woman I’m falling in love with.
There will be nothing left for her to love in me. I won’t be the same Leo when I walk out of this hospital.
“The truth came out in the end,” I say, staring down at my sad little hospital blanket. “You should be thrilled you’ll have less dead weight on the ice.”
“Don’t.” She chokes back her emotion as best she can, but her hands tremble as she curls them into fists. “Don’t say that. There is life on the other side of hockey.”
“You should go, Rivers.” I glance at the door. “Before someone walks in and sees us this close.”
Before you see me break down.
“Please call me Sadie again,” she whispers.
“Go, Sadie. And do me a favor—worry about the team. I’ll shoot you a text when I have an update. Probably after surgery. I don’t need you coming around and raising suspicion. Wouldn’t be in your best interest.”
She blinks too fast. “That’s actually what you want?”
What I want is her. Today, tomorrow, and probably every other day for the rest of my life, which is now a cavernous void without hockey.
I want her to tell me everything is going to be okay, that my life isn’t about to get substantially worse.
But she can’t do that for me.
“We knew we’d have to cut this off eventually,” is all I say. Unforgivable.
I can’t look at her. If I do, I’ll fold and take it all back.
With a sigh, she turns on her heel and gives me what I asked for. She’ll be far better off if she gets away from me.
I’ve got nothing left to give.