Chapter 59
FIFTY-NINE
JONAH
- Present day -
Normally I pride myself on my strong observational skills that’ve been honed over years of dedication and studying my craft.
In my line of work, you won’t make it far if you’re not well-attuned to everything that’s happening around you; if you aren’t able to see the moves of other players before they ever have the chance to make them.
‘ Always stay three steps ahead Jo’. I hear my brother’s voice and internally I roll my eyes.
Even from the other side of the country, he somehow still manages to lecture me.
I swear he’s like that damn conscience cricket or whatever it was from that one movie.
Scowling, I shove down the thought, shifting to watch as Robinsky lowers the phone from his ear.
I must be even more tired than I thought; I didn’t even notice his phone ring until he was already speaking.
“They have an update for us.”
“It’s called a biphasic reaction. While not common, on rare occasions, there can be a secondary reaction hours after the initial onset of symptoms. She became tachycardic and hypotensive, which means her heart rate was elevated, but her blood pressure dropped dangerously low, probably due to the shock on her system.
It doesn’t help that her body was already pretty worn down from fighting off a nasty case of pneumonia, either.
We’ve treated her for the anaphylaxis with another round of Epinephrine to address the histamine reaction, and currently have her sedated which will hopefully allow her body a chance to rest and heal, as well as give the new antibiotics a chance to catch up. ”
The doctor’s words blur together after that, and I don’t hear anything else until Nurse - what’s her name again?
walks over to interrupt. Whatever it was must have been important because they both walk away with a murmured “Excuse me,” and an apologetic look from the nurse thrown over her shoulder as she follows the doctor.
I feel electricity tingle down my arm, and I jolt, glancing to see Robinsky squeezing my shoulder again.
Damn. I mus t be tired. What the fuck was that?
“You good?”
There’s a look of concern on his face as he watches me and I force myself to take a deep breath, locking down the swirling anxiety that’s blended together with countless painful memories now threatening to drown me. Damn if I’ll tell him that. “I’ll be fine.”
He eyes me, jaw ticking, and I can feel the skepticism rolling off of him in waves despite the controlled expression he tries to maintain under the weary facade.
He’s just as stressed as I am about Sutton, but he’s holding it together better than I ever could.
I gotta get my shit together. You’re better than this, Davies. Come on, shake it off.
“Guess it’s time to call Coach.” His words are filled with quiet resolve as he continues, “I’ll take care of it.” Too tired to argue, I simply nod in acquiescence.
“What do you mean you both have to call out for a family emergency?”
Coach O’Reilly has always been abrasive; his voice tends to carry, even through the phone; but then, I guess waking him up at four in the morning to let him know two of his starting line are pulling out of the upcoming home game wouldn’t help his surly mood.
“Sutton’s in the ICU.”
I can’t hear what’s said after that, as Robinsky stands, pacing further down the room, but I’m sure Coach has a lot of questions.
“I understand, Coach. I know she’s technically Jonah’s girlfriend, but we have a complicated history, and right now, aside from Jonah, I’m the only family she has around here.
You can fine me all you want but I’m not going anywhere.
I’m not leaving her. And I know Newbie and I’ve had our issues, but I’m not gonna fucking leave him to handle this shit on his own either. ”
Even from this distance, I can feel his eyes burn into me, and I glance up in surprise; there’s an intensity there that I wasn’t expecting.
His gaze is assessing, but there’s something else too, something more.
. . though at this point I’m too fucking tired to think about it and wonder what “ it” is.
If it’s anything at all. I’m probably reading way too much into nothing.
His eyes narrow, as if he can see the thoughts running through my head.
Uncomfortable under the scrutiny, I shift.
I’m used to being the one in control which is probably why I don’t know how I feel about being the one spinning out of control, having him take the lead and be.
. . well, be the damn leader I’d expected after watching his game tapes the last several years.
I would never admit it to his face, but I have a begrudging amount of respect for how he plays on the ice.
It wouldn’t surprise me if someday he wears the “C” on his shoulder, taking over from Giovanni once he retires.
But gameplay aside, the guy is an absolute dipshit for how he treated Sutton in the past, for letting her go in the first place, and that’s just something I can’t get over.
With controlled steps, he walks in my direction, our eyes lock and I feel another jolt of .
. . something as he sits down in the seat next to mine, his wide shoulders brushing against me as he does so.
Chills raise the hairs on my arms, spreading past the small point of contact, and I grunt in response as he shifts awkwardly away with a subtle “sorry”.
Huh. Wasn’t expecting that.