33. Wren
WREN
Nothing says “have a great day” like chugging water all morning and then having to sit and wait an extra thirty minutes for your ultrasound.
“Wrenley Calloway?”
My stomach drops with sudden nerves. I stand too fast, and my bladder immediately threatens to explode.
The ultrasound tech is around my mom’s age, maybe younger, with kind eyes and a voice that sounds like she has said the same twelve sentences a thousand times and still remembers there is a person on the other side of them.
“Hi,” she says. “Come on back.”
The room is dim and cool. There’s a narrow bed covered in white paper, a monitor turned slightly away, a counter with supplies lined in neat rows.
The tech explains what will happen. First part with a full bladder. Then I’ll empty it. Then another part, if I’m comfortable, for clearer images.
If I’m comfortable. I nearly laugh.
Comfort left the chat at thirty-two ounces of water.
But I nod because nodding is easier than explaining that the physical part bothers me less than the chances of them finding nothing and being no closer to the root of my problems. The way techs can’t say much, even if they see something.
The way I will stare at a screen full of gray shapes and pretend I’m not trying to decode my own body from shadows.
“Any chance you could be pregnant?” she asks.
“No.” The word comes out fast. I clear my throat before clarifying. “I don’t think so. I’m on birth control.”
She doesn’t say anything, just nods and checks a box.
I lie back on the paper.
It crinkles under me, loud in the quiet of the room.
The first part is uncomfortable in a way that makes me want to crawl out of my skin politely.
The gel is warm, the pressure uncomfortable over my too-full bladder, but not to the point of pain, and the tech’s face stays professionally neutral as she moves the wand across my lower stomach. Click. Pause. Click again.
I study the ceiling tiles. There’s a small crack in one of them, thin and crooked, running from the corner toward the center. I count the dots in the tile around it.
Seventeen. Then twenty-four. Then I lose track when the pressure gets worse, and my hand clenches around the edge of the paper.
“You’re doing great,” the tech says.
I nod.
I’m lying on a table trying not to pee on a medical professional while she takes mysterious pictures of an organ that may or may not be ruining my life.
Great feels a bit too generous.
Eventually, she lets me use the bathroom.
I have never loved a hallway sign more.
When I come back, the room feels colder. Or maybe I do. She explains the second part again calmly and tells me I can say stop at any time.
The next part is more invasive, less physically painful than I expect but emotionally stranger.
Not because the tech is unkind. She isn’t.
She is careful and calm and asks before she moves.
It’s strange because there is no way to detach from the fact that this is my body on the screen, my pain translated into measurements, my future maybe hiding in grainy gray images I can’t understand.
I stare at the wall this time.
There’s a framed print of a beach above the counter. Pale sand, blue water, a sky too perfect to be real. I wonder who decided people getting pelvic ultrasounds needed a beach. I wonder if anyone has ever looked at it and felt relaxed.
The tech’s face changes once.
Only a little.
Maybe not at all.
Maybe I invent it because I am looking for something to fear.
My pulse climbs anyway.
“Is everything okay?” I ask before I can stop myself.
She gives me a gentle smile. “The radiologist will review the images and send the report to your doctor.”
What other answer did I expect?
When it’s over, she leaves me to get dressed. I sit up slowly, the paper wrinkled beneath me, my socks on the floor beside my shoes. I quickly get dressed and head back through the lobby out into the parking lot.
I have too much to do today to let myself spiral over waiting for more results, so I hop in my car and head to campus.
The annual hockey banquet is tonight, and we still have a lot to get done in preparation.
We worked until nearly midnight last night, setting up tables and decorations, and today we have the finishing touches.
Plus, I need to make sure all the awards are organized and ready to hand out, as well as making sure all the food will be set up on time and ready.
But first, coffee. Well, make it to campus, park, and then coffee.
To my surprise, when I reach the parking lot, Kai is standing next to his car, waiting, holding an iced coffee in one hand and a small paper bag in the other. He lifts them in greeting as I get out of my car, making my way toward him.
“Figured you might need these.” Handing me the goods.
I step into him, lifting onto my toes to press a kiss to his lips.
“Thank you.”
He grins. “You’re welcome. I have practice in twenty, then I’ll be over to see if there’s anything we can help with. How’d your appointment go?”
“It went about as good as you could expect. I won’t have results for a while," I take a sip of my vanilla latte and feel life slowly seeping back into my soul. “Everything for practice should be set, but Donnelly has loaned me out to the banquet team for the time being.”
“Figured as much,” he says, kissing me again quickly before grabbing his bag off the hood of his car and heading toward the rink. “See you soon, Freckles.”
I stand there for a moment, watching him head in the opposite direction that I’m about to go, and hoping this isn’t some sort of sign from the universe telling me that it’s only a matter of time before we go our separate ways.
Again.
The banquet starts at 6:30, and by some miracle, we finish setting up at 5:40, giving me about thirty minutes to get ready before having to head back.
Harlow ushers me into her dorm, and we get to work on attempting to make my hair cooperate. I give up on any kind of updo, going for my tried-and-true messy waves. I paint my eyelids with a deep bronze shade, adding a small layer of black eyeliner before adding a couple coats of mascara.
Finishing my makeup in record time, I step into my dress, Harlow helping me zip it up before I do the same for her.
My best friend looks stunning in a light peach-colored dress, her hair half-up, with curls cascading down her back. Grayson is going to die. Knowing how their last team event went, I would bet money on them sneaking out early…again.
I grab my heels, slipping those on next, admiring the deep blue of my dress. It hugs me in all the right places, makes my ass look fucking fantastic, if I do say so myself, the one-shoulder neckline being my favorite part.
“My brother is going to melt into a puddle when he sees you,” Harlow says, swiping a final touch of lip gloss across her lips. “You look so hot!”
I laugh. “As do you. Do I need to make sure you and Grayson stay in attendance this time?”
She turns to glare at me playfully, but her blush peeks through slightly. “I should never have told you that.”
“I’m glad you did. That was hot. I’m still so proud of you.”
She laughs as we grab our things and head to the banquet.
Practice ran late, and Kai ended up getting a call from Dane, so we decided it would be easiest if we just met them at the banquet. Thankfully, the hall we’re having it in is only a block away from Harlow’s dorm.
As we walk inside, Harlow’s eyes widen as she takes in the decorations. I will say, we really outdid ourselves.
Deep purple fabric swoops around the room, with the tables set with purple and gray, faux candles on each, giving the space a dim glow.
Kai and Grayson spot us almost instantly, and my heart stutters as Kai’s eyes meet my own.
He takes me in, gaze dragging slowly down my body before coming back up to my face. I smile as he makes his way over to me, wearing a dark pair of slacks and a light gray button-down, hair perfectly messed.
“You look unreal,” he says, reaching his hands to my waist and pulling me closer. “Absolutely unreal. I’ve always loved this color on you.”
“I know, that’s why I wore it.” I step closer, bringing my mouth to his ear so only he can hear my next words. “I think you’ll like it even more on your floor later.”
He curses under his breath, hands tightening at my hips. “How long until this thing starts? I only need five minutes.”
I laugh, pulling him toward our seats, waving at Donnelly as we pass. He grins, nodding his head as if he knew Kai and I would be here together tonight.
Grayson and Harlow are already sitting at our table when we walk up, joined by Weston and Asher, of course.
Kai pulls my chair out for me, and Weston chimes in.
“Aw, such a gentleman, Mercer,” he teases. “Why don’t you ever pull out my chair or open my door?”
“The only door we’d open is one we were shoving you out of,” grumbles Asher, apparently in a mood.
“You need to get laid. Maybe that would help the grumps.” Weston flicks a finger in Kai’s direction. “Seemed to help him.”
Grayson chokes on a sip of water, but to my surprise, Kai doesn’t look angry at Weston. Instead, he leans back, tossing an arm around my chair and shrugs.
We all laugh, and before long, dinner is served.
By the time dessert is set down, Coach steps up to the small podium near the front of the room and taps the microphone.
The feedback squeals. Half the team winces.
Coach pulls it farther away. “Well, we’re already off to a good start.”
A few people laugh.
He looks out over the room, waiting until the noise settles. “I’ll keep this short because I know half of you have been eyeing the dessert table since you walked in.”
Weston lifts his fork in acknowledgment.
Coach points at him. “Mostly Cooper.”
“Chop-chop, Coach,” Weston says.
More laughter moves through the room.
Coach shakes his head, but he’s smiling.
“This season has asked a lot from this group. More than most. We’ve had injuries.
Line changes. Long road trips. Games where we flat-out earned the win and games we had no business winning, leading us to an undefeated season.
” His gaze moves over the tables. “Somehow, through all of it, they kept showing up for each other.”
Something shifts in the room.
I glance at Kai.
He’s watching Coach, expression calm, but his fingers tighten slightly against my leg.
“We talk a lot about talent in hockey,” Coach continues. “Speed, strength, hard work. All of that matters. But talent isn’t what gets you through a season. Your team does.”
My throat tightens unexpectedly.
Maybe because I know what that feels like now.
Coach announces a few awards, then picks up a larger plaque.
“Our next award is the Team MVP.”
Weston immediately sits straighter. “Finally.”
Asher doesn’t look at him. “Shut up and stay in your seat.”
“This one is voted on by the team. The guy they trust when things go bad. The guy they want beside them when the game gets ugly.”
My attention goes to Kai before Coach even says his name.
“Kai Mercer.”
The room erupts. Grayson is on his feet first, clapping Kai hard on the shoulder. Weston starts chanting “speech” before Kai even has the time to stand up.
Kai looks genuinely caught off guard.
He’s so prepared for everything. Practice schedules, game film, ready to help anyone. But this?
He didn’t expect this.
I squeeze his hand; his eyes meet mine.
“Go,” I whisper.
He heads toward the podium while the applause follows him.
Coach hands him the plaque, says something I can’t hear, then steps aside.
Kai stares at the microphone like he’d rather take a slap shot to the ribs.
Weston cups his hands around his mouth. “Tell us how much you love us!”
Kai looks directly at him and grins. “Less every day.”
The room laughs.
Weston presses a hand to his heart.
Kai exhales, then looks down at the plaque.
“I didn’t know this was happening.”
“Obviously,” Grayson mutters beside me.
Kai glances toward our table before continuing.
“I don’t really know what to say other than thank you.”
His voice is steady, but I know him. I see the tiny movement in his jaw.
“This team has made my life difficult for four years.”
A few guys laugh.
“And better.”
That quiets them.
“I think being captain makes people assume I’m the one holding everything together.” He pauses. “I’m not.”
His eyes move across the room.
“There’ve been a lot of days where one of these guys has done that for me. Sometimes without knowing it. When I started here at PCU, I never thought I’d be team captain someday. Yeah, I had hoped it would happen, but I also didn’t fully appreciate what having that title meant.”
My chest aches.
“For a long time, I thought that meant working harder than everyone else, setting the standard. Being the first guy in, last guy out. But then, a really good friend of mine gave me a reality check and reminded me that being a good human comes before being a good captain.” Kai looks to our table before continuing.
“It’s been an honor and a privilege to play next to you guys for the last four years, and I’ll remember this long after my final game here. This team has given me a lot of things, including some of the best friends a guy could ever hope for.”
Grayson looks down at the table, wiping at his nose.
“So…thank you for trusting me.”
Kai returns to the table under another round of applause, looking like he’d prefer everyone immediately forget the last two minutes happened.
I’m smiling when he sits beside me.
I lean over, kissing him on the cheek. “I love you.”
He smiles. “I love you too. Is it time to get out of here yet?”
I laugh, and a few minutes later, we do just that.