Chapter 7 Teddy
TEDDY
Waking up groggy, it feels like I’ve slept for days.
For a few seconds, I can’t piece together where I am.
The pillow smells faintly of bleach and the sheets are rough against my skin.
I blink my eyes open, waiting for the light to come through.
Nothing. Blackness greets me. A slow ripple of dread works its way through me.
I blink again, harder this time, then again, until my eyes ache. Still nothing.
The truth slams back in pieces through the haze. I got hit on the ice and now I’m stuck at the hospital without my vision. A ragged breath jerks out, panic clawing its way up before I can stop it. My hand fumbles until it closes around the call button clipped to the side of the bedrail.
I press it once, twice, holding the button down as if it’ll somehow pull me out of this black hole.
The door opens, footsteps rushing in. “You called for help more than once,” Ivy says. “What’s going on?”
“I woke up and—” My throat tightens, voice breaking apart. “I can’t see. It’s all gone.”
“Remember what we talked about yesterday? The bleeding in your eyes? Nothing has changed, but you’re stable.”
Stable. The word rattles in my skull, empty and heavy all at once. “Make it stop, Ivy.”
“I can’t.” She squeezes my arm. “But you’re not alone. Breathe with me.”
With her help, I get my breathing under control. The door clicks open and shuts again, the sound soft but impossible to miss in the confined space. A new set of footsteps cross the room, their weight noticeably heavier than Ivy’s.
“Mr. Seaborn, I’m Dr. Carl Royce.” His voice is deliberate, exactly what you’d expect from a man who’s been carrying other people’s bad news for decades. “How are you doing today?”
I tilt my head toward him automatically. “How do you think I’m feeling?” The words scrape my throat on their way out. “I’m stuck in a fucking nightmare I can’t wake up from.”
“Understandable,” he says, his words too measured. But he has no idea how I feel right now. No one does. “We’re doing everything we can to help you recover, Teddy,” Dr. Royce continues. “We’re hopeful your sight will return to some extent.”
Hopeful. The word dangles between us, seven letters useless in the present moment. My breath falters, catching shallow in my lungs. I grip the sheet to keep my hand from shaking.
“So you’re telling me this could be temporary?” The question comes out sharp, but underneath it’s threaded with disbelief.
The chair scrapes as he sits, lowering his tone.
“We’re doing our best to manage the blood inside your eyes, and with time, it may clear.
But your body might react to the treatment differently, so I won’t promise a full recovery at this stage.
We’ll continue running tests and monitoring your condition closely. The next few weeks will tell us more.”
The next few weeks. That’s what this is, a waiting game.
“What if it doesn’t return?” My voice cracks again. “What happens then?”
“If you continue having issues with your vision, we’ll consider further surgery. We’re not there yet. Your stability is our primary focus. We have time before decisions need to be made.”
Stability. Stable. That fucking word again.
My hand balls into a fist until my knuckles ache.
Stable means alive, not whole. I’m simply existing without a promise I’ll skate again.
Or see a puck hurtling toward me or the red goal light flashing or the chaos of a bench after a tight win.
More images fire through my head; a collection of games that defined me.
These are the moments I’ll remember for the rest of my life.
“I get it.” My voice hardens, flattening into resolve. I won’t give him the satisfaction of hearing me break. “So what do we do now? What’s the plan?”
“Nurse Campbell has been working closely with your treatment plan. She’ll be your main point of contact moving forward. I’ll leave you two to discuss the next steps.”
At least there’s something positive. I like Ivy. She had enough balls to tell my parents to fuck off. I have a feeling we’ll be good friends before my time here is over.
“Thanks, Doc.”
The door shuts behind Dr. Royce, and the silence tries to swallow me whole again. My hand is still in a fist, nails digging crescents into my palm.
The jagged words rip out before I can stop them. “How the hell am I supposed to keep living when everything is unclear?”
Ivy’s voice, steady in a way I’m not, answers. “I can’t give you the answer. But no matter what, we’ll get through this together.” We. Not you. Just like she said yesterday.
A shaky breath escapes me. I turn toward her, searching even though I won’t catch her outline. I just want something—anything—besides her voice to prove she’s here with me.
“Together,” I repeat in a whisper, hoping she’s right.
The warmth of her hand covers mine, her grip firm but not crushing. It’s exactly what I was desperate for a moment ago, a solid reminder she’s here.
“I’m going to stay a few minutes,” Ivy says. “Your meds aren’t due for a while, but I think you could do with some company.”
I swallow hard. My throat still feels raw, scraped out from panic. “You don’t have to babysit me.”
“I’m not.” She lets out a huff. “Sure, it’s my responsibility to look after you. But it’s my choice to be here now.”
A corner of my mouth lifts, the closest thing to a smile I’ve managed all day. “Guess that makes you my favorite nurse. Don’t tell the others. They’ll fight you for the title.”
“Luckily I know how to fight back.”
Her following laugh pushes the heaviness aside. It’s a sound I want to carry with me, even into my dreams.
“If I knew you looked run over by a Zamboni, I would’ve visited yesterday,” a soft, familiar voice calls from the doorway later that day.
I face one of my closest friends and let out an overly dramatic tsk. “Such bad bedside manners, Emerson Grace Merryweather. I’m disappointed.”
“Oh, stop it, you silly boy.”
“Good to see you, too,” I reply out of habit, then catch myself with a shaky laugh. “Well, shit. Can I even say that anymore?”
The familiar, comforting scent of Em’s citrusy perfume floats over and wraps around me. The faint scrape of a chair follows as she settles beside the bed. “Why not? It’s only an expression.”
“Still feels weird.”
“You’ve got bigger things to worry about. Start with getting better.”
“I’m trying. How’s everything out there?” I gesture toward where I think the outside is.
“The window is on the other wall, Teddy. You just pointed at the closet,” she jokes, trying to lighten the conversation. “Don’t worry about what’s happening there, because I brought you some things from home.”
“Did you bring a hoodie or something soft? These hospital clothes are shit.”
“I did pack three loungewear sets from that ad campaign you did last year, a Woodpeckers hoodie, your go-to cap, underwear, plus toiletries and snacks. I figured I’d try to make your stay less miserable.”
I let out a pleased hum. “I appreciate it. You didn’t have to go out of your way for me, though.”
“What else are friends for if not to use the spare key to rummage through your shit?” she jokes.
Clearing my throat, I try to push away the sudden swell of emotion. I can’t help feeling vulnerable with her here, and it messes with my head almost as much as Dr. Royce’s earlier words did. I still can’t believe he told me I have to wait weeks before knowing what can even be done.
“I’ve been thinking about the future a lot. It’s weird not knowing what comes next,” I admit.
“I can’t imagine what you’re going through. But I want you to remember you aren’t alone. Jasper, your teammates, and half of the hockey world have been checking up on you,” she reaches for my hand and squeezes it. “They all care about you, just like I do.”
“What have you told them?”
“The truth. That you’re recovering, and there hasn’t been much to share. Making me your emergency contact years ago was a smart move.”
“I don’t want my parents to get anymore updates. Who knows what they would do with such sensitive information. I trust you the most.”
“Have they—” Em starts. Her question is interrupted by the sound of the door opening.
“Oh, hi, I didn’t know you had company. I’ll come back later,” Ivy’s bright voice greets us.
“Don’t go,” I call after her. “This is my close friend and agent, Emerson Merryweather. She came by to bring me some things. Em, meet Ivy, one of the nurses taking care of me.”
Em’s chair scrapes and the sound of her heels click across the floor. “It’s lovely to meet you, Ivy.”
“It’s good to meet you, too,” Ivy replies. “I had no idea Teddy had, um, a female agent. But that’s amazing. More women in sports.”
I smile to myself as an understanding laugh leaves Em’s lips. “You aren’t the first to be surprised, and you won’t be the last. But yes, me and Mr. Theodore Bancroft Seaborn The Fourth go way back.”
“I can’t get over the fact that’s his full name.” Ivy sounds genuinely amused.
“Tell me about it. I used to give him so much shit about it back in school.”
“Hey, I didn’t lose my hearing,” I remind them, a touch exasperated but in good humor.
“Hush, Teddy,” Em teases. “Besides, I need an inside woman here at the hospital. I’m not sure I can trust the nurses at the front desk. They all seem to have crushes on you.”
“Har har, very funny,” I deadpan, but the corners of my mouth tug into a smile.
“She’s not wrong. You should hear all the questions I get when my colleagues realize I’m on your care team.” Her confession makes Em chuckle and Ivy mumbles, “Shit, sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.”
I wave my hand dismissively, a small chuckle escaping. “Don’t worry about it.”
“If you’re all good, I’ll leave you two alone,” Ivy says. “It was lovely to meet you.”
“Likewise. Before you go, may I have your number, Ivy?” Em asks.
“I don’t give my number to patients or their loved ones. Sorry. But you can always reach out to the hospital if you need anything.”