Chapter 13 Teddy
TEDDY
Three days. That’s how long it’s been since her voice filled this room. Since I made everything worse with my sharp tongue and all the bitterness I can’t seem to swallow. Since I reminded her I’m capable of being a complete asshole.
Now she’s gone. Not in the literal sense, but she hasn’t been in to check up on me. Not once. Not even when I hit the call button for something trivial. It’s always another nurse, polite and professional. Someone who doesn’t know how much of a mess I’ve become.
I deserve her silence. I do. I know how I fucking messed up.
Three days of not hearing her voice has a way of making a man sit with his shit.
She was right. Ivy wasn’t the one who blindsided me on the ice.
She didn’t take my vision or my future. She didn’t create the weight currently crushing my chest. All she ever did was try to help.
Yet, I treated her poorly because she was an easy target.
Lashing out was easier than facing what’s actually happening to me.
I've been going over our last interaction, replaying my mean words. I keep wishing I could take it all back and tell her the truth—that I’m terrified of what’s happening in my life and hate asking for help.
That I’m ashamed of the shitty way I’ve handled everything.
Maybe if I admit all those things aloud, she’ll believe me when I say I’m sorry.
There’s no knock this time, only the soft creak of the door and a shift in the air. I recognize her scent instantly—a hint of coconut and sunshine beneath the antiseptic tang of the hospital.
“Ivy?”
“Yeah, it’s me,” she confirms, her tone measured. “I’m here to check on how your head wounds are healing.”
She walks to the other side of the room where they keep supplies.
I only know that after one of the other nurses mentioned it yesterday, pointing out where the carts are kept.
Back then it felt like meaningless chatter.
Now, I cling to scraps of information. I track Ivy by the shuffle of her shoes and the faint rattle of items in the drawer she pulls out.
Sounds I never paid attention to before now paint the outline of the room for me.
The sheets drag against my bare legs, the sound loud in the quiet, as I inch upright. “Hey. Could you sit for a sec?”
My hands are clammy, and I hate the unsettled feeling deep in my stomach.
“I owe you more than a half-assed sorry.” I scratch my stubble nervously. “The other day, I was a dick. You were right.”
No response.
“I was scared,” I admit, the words jagged. “I’m so fucking scared, Ivy. That’s not your fault, but I took it out on you because I didn’t know how else to cope. I hate that you’re seeing me as less than I used to be."
Still nothing. This might be the part where she walks out. I wouldn’t blame her. I would do so if I was her.
“I heard two people outside the room talking about my hockey career. They made me into some sob story of what could have been. I’ve played thirteen seasons of professional hockey and they ignored it.
I let the words get into my head, twisting me up until they turned into poison.
And then I spilled that poison onto the person who’s only been trying to help. "
Ivy blows out a breath. “You’re not a sad story. You’re in an uncertain chapter, that’s all. One chapter doesn’t define the whole story.”
“It doesn’t excuse what I said or how I acted toward you. I never should’ve spoken the way I did.”
“No, you shouldn’t have,” she confirms. “But grief doesn’t always make sense. You lost something big, Teddy. You’re allowed to grieve it, just not at the expense of someone else’s dignity.”
“You’re right.”
“I usually am,” she deadpans. “Get used to it.”
Her sass pulls a dry chuckle from me. “I don’t expect you to forgive and forget easily. However, I’ll do my best to earn your trust.”
“Like you, all I want is honesty. Even when it’s messy.” She places something plastic in my hand. “You should know your lips look awful. I figured I'd stop punishing them because you were an idiot.”
I laugh again, softer this time. “Thanks.”
Her fingers brush mine for a second longer before she lets go. The contact makes my chest ache in a different way.
“How are you doing otherwise?” she asks.
I hesitate before answering. “It’s weird. The light is starting to hurt my eyes. Not in a sharp way, more like—” I pause, trying to put words to the feeling. “I notice differences in the shadows. Different shades in the spots where the light comes in. It’s faint, but it’s there.”
“That’s something, Teddy. It means your brain and your eyes are still talking to each other, even if it’s only whispers right now.”
I know she’s right, but I’m more annoyed than pleased. “Couldn’t it be a good thing instead of something that hurts?”
“What feels bad right now, could feel better in a week or two. Give it time,” she tells me. “May I open the window for a bit? Fresh air will do you good.”
I nod. The curtains rustle as she moves them, a gust of wind coming in after a creak.
“I’ll come back later after checking in on other patients.”
“I’d like that.”
When the door clicks shut behind her, the room feels empty, but it’s not hollow anymore. All because she’ll be coming back.
Thank fuck.
Not long after Ivy leaves, the silence presses in again. I don’t want it. Not now. Not after the commentary outside my room the other day and the way it hollowed me out. My fingers fumble for my phone on the side table. It takes a couple tries, but I get it in my hands.
“Hey Siri,” I rasp. “Call Captain.”
“Calling Captain mobile.”
The line clicks, and his surprised voice fills the space. “Teddy?”
Relief punches through me harder than I expected. “Yeah, it’s me, Cap.”
“Holy shit, man, it’s so damn good to hear your voice. How are you holding up?”
“I’ve been better,” I admit with a humorless snort. “How’s Jessi? And the kids?”
“They’re great,” Jensen replies, a smile audible in his tone. “Jessi sends her love. Anya’s been practicing her figure skating routine every afternoon after school. Austen’s still obsessed with dinosaurs. He stomped around yesterday pretending to be a T-Rex and knocked over the lamp.”
A soft laugh escapes me. “Sounds like him. Tell the kiddos I miss them.”
“They miss their Uncle Teddy, too.”
The words cut straight through me. I miss them and everything else in our world—the chaos of the locker room, the calming sound when my blades meet the ice, and the kids holding up crooked signs with my name and number scrawled in Sharpie.
I’ve fucked up more than I can count, but making kids want to lace up skates…
that’s the one thing I never got wrong. Jensen’s son, Austen, tells anyone who’ll listen he’s going to be like me one day, to his dad’s chagrin.
“I couldn’t be prouder of such a title.” My fingers flex against the sheets, preparing for the question I want to ask. “Is the asshole still playing?”
“He’s been benched since that evening as the investigation is underway.
Word is, the League is finally taking action against Farrington.
” My heart kicks into overdrive hearing that name.
“There have been complaints stacking up for years, but your hit was the final straw. Both Chandler Montrose of the Woodpeckers and Jeremy Lavigne of the Peacocks submitted formal reports within seventy-two hours. Twenty other GMs backed them so far. They want him gone for good. He’ll be officially out by next week with an extended suspension at minimum, most likely a lifetime ban.
No one wants to be the team that shelters him.
Even Toronto’s management washed their hands of him. ”
“Should’ve happened a long time ago,” I say, pressing my palms against my eyes. Fucking hell, I don’t want to cry because of that asshole.
“I agree. What he did to you…it was ruthless.”
“Him being kicked out won’t bring my sight back.”
“Fuck,” comes his short reply. There’s a pause, his voice softening. “So it’s true then? About your eyes? There have been rumors circling in the media, but I didn’t want to believe what they said.”
“Yeah. I’m slowly seeing some shifts in shadows, but nothing else has changed since I woke up.
Well, the light is starting to annoy me, even if I can’t really see it beyond vague shadows.
” Saying it aloud feels like ripping open a wound that never stops bleeding.
“They’re still running tests and we have to wait for the final diagnosis. ”
“Jesus, Teddy…” Jensen breathes. “I’m so damn sorry.”
I drag a shaky hand down my face. “Don’t tell anyone else, okay? Not the guys. Not until the team makes another statement. I don’t want them picturing me as some broken thing before I even know what’s permanent.”
“Of course,” my captain answers firmly. “It stays between us. But listen—you’re still our guy. You’re still the heart of that locker room, even if you’re not on the ice right now. That doesn’t change.”
The words crack something in me, but I swallow it down. “Thanks.”
“No, thank you. You’ve carried this team more times than I can count. Now it’s our turn to carry you.”
The lump in my throat thickens. I turn my head toward the ceiling. “You know, I keep having these flashes of the hit. Not nightmares exactly, but I hear the sounds and feel the air knocked out of me over and over.”
“Your brain’s scrambling,” Jensen reminds me gently. “That’s trauma, man. It doesn’t follow logic.”
“I recall every second leading up to it and then...fuck, I don’t even know.”
“Do you want to hear how I remember it?”
The offer stuns me into silence. Until now, it hadn’t registered to me that Jensen was on the ice when Farrington hit me.
He’d know exactly what happened. My gut twists, torn between needing the missing pieces and not wanting them yet.
“Thanks for offering, but I want to remember it myself,” I croak out.
“That’s fair enough.”
“Let’s back up a bit…you said the GMs filed complaints?”
“It’s the biggest collective push I’ve ever seen,” Jensen explains. “Not just players speaking out, but also coaches and upper management including the GMs. The League’s been under fire for letting Farrington go unchecked. They’re finally being forced to act.”
I lean back, his words sinking into me like heavy stones. “Well, isn’t that lovely. A bit late, don’t you think?”
The bitterness in my voice is impossible to miss.
Rage curdles in my chest. I can’t stop thinking about how different things could’ve been.
How many warnings there were. How many games turned ugly because of Farrington and still, the League looked away.
They let him run wild, game after game, until finally I was sprawled out on the ice, my sight ripped away.
And now they decide to act when it no longer helps me.
I want to laugh in disbelief, but it would come out closer to a snarl.
“You shouldn’t have been the sacrifice, but it’s about time.”
His words are meant to soothe, but they have the opposite effect.
I don’t want to be anyone’s turning point or cautionary tale they whisper about.
Instead, I want to be the guy kids point to in the stands when they beg their parents for skates at Christmas.
But I’m starting to realize it’s too late for that.
“He’ll just go play dirty overseas and wreck some other league,” I mumble, hating the words coming out of my mouth.
“Doesn’t matter,” Jensen counters. “Everyone remembers what he did. That reputation will follow him forever.”
“It still doesn’t feel like justice.”
“It never does. Not fully.”
I nod slowly to myself. “You ever wonder how fast everything can fall apart?”
“Every damn day,” he admits. “That’s why you hold on to what matters. There are people in your corner, Teddy. When it does get better, even a little, you’ll look back and be glad you let us help carry the burden.”
A familiar sting burns behind my eyes. “Thanks, Jensen. I mean it.”
“You’re not alone,” he repeats.
“Thank fuck.”
He laughs quietly. “Look, I gotta run soon, but I wasn’t about to miss talking to you.”
“Appreciate it. Seriously.”
“Don’t forget who you are, alright?”
“What do you mean?” I ask, confused.
“You’re Theodore fucking Seaborn. You still have more to give. Hockey or no hockey, sight or no sight—you’re still you.”
The line clicks dead before I can respond, but his words keep circling in my head long after. I lie there, clutching the phone like it’s the last tether I have to the life I knew, until exhaustion drags me under.