13. Drake
CHAPTER 13
DRAKE
Third period. We were down by one coming out of the intermission and the only thing on our minds was winning this game against New Jersey. They weren’t even that strong of a team, but for some reason the Lions couldn’t beat them at home, going back several seasons. Call it a curse or bad luck or whatever. In my mind, it was more of a self-fulfilling prophecy, since we got antsy and gripped our sticks too tight—all the cliches about bad play. So of course Brodie blocked a shot with his foot and left the game at the end of last period. Wasn’t broken, but he’d bruised it bad enough that he wasn’t coming back out for the third. No sense in those kind of heroics before the playoffs—we’d need them during.
But that left me centering the top line. No pressure, right? Coach said he’d seen film of me with the Otters, and he had no doubts. Bearsy had no doubts.
I had doubts, sure, but also aspirations. I wanted to be the one who lifted the “curse” on the team by changing attitudes and getting us believing. It was what Jon would’ve done in the same situation .
“Look,” I said, “we can do this. Their goalie isn’t some sort of acrobatic wall. He’s bobbled pucks. Left the net wide open. Puck bounces the other direction, and we’d be up five to two.”
“So what do we do?” Gavin asked.
“Don’t miss the net,” Brodie, said from where he was sitting with a cold pack on his foot, “unlike me.”
I laughed at that. “Yeah, I mean, that one’s obvious, but honestly, just keep peppering him with shots. Stop reacting, start acting. Their D isn’t that good. We have to be more aggressive on the forecheck, like when you guys played Seattle.”
“You watched that?” Gavin said.
“Yup.” I paused, then added, “Watched a bunch of NAPH games once I got over myself.” I missed watching games with Jon. He was like an extra coach, pointing out both the good and bad of plays. It’d helped me to see plays from a different point of view and to understand that even the best fucked up.
“Anyway, if there’s actually some kind of curse on the team, then nothing we do should work, right? So let’s have fun, force them to play hard, and see what happens?”
What happened was turnaround. No idea if it was what I’d said that caused the momentum shift or that flukey goal from our defensemen, Cal, that tied us up under two minutes into the third. Nothing special to Cal’s shot. Simply a blast from the point that hit one of their players and then floated past the goalie in what seemed like slow motion.
With the game tied, suddenly, our bench was hyped, and their goalie was… not. The next goal was mine, and at first people didn’t know how I’d gotten it in.
I’d simply noticed the goalie’s reverse VH stance was off and he’d left a hole against the post by his foot, so when the puck bounced to me at the side of the net, I jammed it home as hard as I could, and it went in.
Garbage goal. But who cared? We were up by one.
In the end, my goal stood as the game winner. We added two more and beat them five-two, finally breaking the curse.
Nothing was going to topple me off of this high. We were hollering and shouting as we made it to the locker room. Our winning song was blaring, and everyone was smacking me, congratulating me for the game winner. I even got the Lion helmet as game MVP.
Then Will, one of the trainers, came over and touched my shoulder. “Coach wants to see you.”
My stomach dropped to my feet. It went through the floor when I caught the expression on the trainer’s face.
Oh fuck. What’d happened? Was it something I’d done? Was my mom okay? Had that asshole sperm donor contacted the team? Every single possibility ramped through my head. I stripped off the rest of my gear. Bearsy shoved a protein bar and water into my hands. “You’re shaking.”
No shit. The look Coach gave me when I entered the video room didn’t help. He did pat the air with his hands. “Don’t panic. Everyone’s fine.” Then he grimaced. “Mostly.”
“Just—tell me.”
He nodded. “We wanted to get to you before the reporters did so you aren’t blindsided. Jonny Eriksson took a bad fall into the boards. Broke his shoulder. He needs surgery, so he’s on his way here.”
Oh shit. I sank into a nearby chair. “What happened?”
Coach huffed. “He made the play of his life, won the game in overtime, then got tripped up. Just bad luck. He skated off on his own power. Isn’t concussed. Just a broken shoulder.”
“Fuck.” Jon was hurt and I wasn’t there. I set the water and protein bar on the floor and dropped my head into my hands. I had no idea what went into shoulder surgery, but I knew even minor stuff to shoulder sucked hard and was painful to work through in PT.
“He’s going to be okay,” Coach said.
I looked up and studied Coach. “What aren’t you telling me?”
He shook his head. “You’ll see on the replay. But be thankful it was his shoulder that took the impact.”
I knew the unspoken thoughts. Be thankful it wasn’t his head. Or neck. I shuddered. Yeah, I was going to watch the replay. But not yet. Because Jon was hurt and I wasn’t there with him. “Which hospital?”
Coach rattled off the name of a hospital in the Oakland neighborhood of Pittsburgh. “Look, shower and eat something before taking off.”
I picked up the protein bar and shook it.
“More than that, Williams.”
“I know.” Fuck, Fuck. I needed to be there. But Coach was right. And Jon would be exasperated if I showed up not having eaten, and then… probably call a nurse to try to order me food or something. “Thanks,” I said to Coach, “for pulling me away before the media got in.”
“You didn’t need that. Neither does Jonny. He’s a good man. So are you. Now get out of here, get the stink off you, and get some calories. Then get to him.”
So that’s what I did, as fast as I could. When I retrieved my phone, I found messages from Jon.
Hey, I’m fine. Don’t worry about me. It’s not as bad as it looks on TV. I mean, I need surgery, but it’s fine. I called my parents, and Papa is coming out, so don’t worry, please.
Oh! Great goal tonight! GWG! Keep finding those holes in the goalies.
But seriously. I’m fine. Please don’t run over here if you have other things you need to do.
I reread the messages as I walked to my SUV and rolled my eyes.
Well, I’m on my way to the hospital. Tell them I’m allowed to see you.
I was sure visiting hours were over, but this was Jon and I was me. There were privileges to being a sports star. Before I got to my SUV, I had a reply.
Already did. ??
Of course he had. This was a man who saw five moves ahead on the ice. He didn’t want to inconvenience me, but he also knew I’d come, despite his protests. Something in my body loosened, and I let out a long breath. God, I loved him so much. I ached in my soul, but I pushed that aside. I’d deal with my feelings later. Right now was about Jon.
Didn’t actually take that long to get to the hospital from downtown—I’d forgotten how close it really was. Maybe not blocks away, but within fifteen minutes I was walking to his room. “He may be out of it,” the nurse at the station had said. “He’s on pain medication. ”
When I got to Jon’s room, he was scrolling through his phone, his brows deeply furrowed, as if he didn’t understand what he was looking at. I paused at the door. “Hey.”
He beamed at me with a loopy smile. “Baby, hi! You’re here! You didn’t need to come.” He grimaced a little and dropped the phone onto his bed. “My arm’s broken,” he whined. “I can’t do anything. I fucking hate it.” He sighed dramatically. “But I’m glad you’re here. You didn’t have to, but I’m happy.” Another pause. “Well no, not happy. This sucks. But you’re here.”
Yup. Definitely on painkillers. “Yeah, I’m here.” I entered, found the guest chair and pulled it up next to his bed. “Thought your shoulder was broken?”
He waved with his left hand. “Yeah, yeah. Shoulder. Arm. Whatever. I can’t use it and it hurts. I don’t care that it hurts, but it still hurts. This stuff is okay, though.” He flailed his good arm with the attached tubing. “So much better than when I cared that it hurt.”
“Uh huh.” I took his left hand in mine. “Guess they’ll do surgery in the morning?”
That furrow again, and boy were his eyes glassy. “I think so. Said I should sleep.”
“Probably should.” That’s when I spotted what he’d been scrolling through on his phone. Hotels. “Hey babe, what are you doing?” I picked the phone up.
“Ugh. Trying to find a decent place I can live in with the cats. After the surgery. Not going to be able to drive, and they want me close to here for doctors and PT and all that. Papa said he’d come live with me but—” He gestured at the phone. “Thor and Loki. Maybe I’ll buy a place or something.”
That…was the first time I’d ever heard Jon say anything to indicate how wealthy he must be. We’d never really di scussed finances other than his comments early on, and he’d been fine with me paying my fair share. The idea he could just buy a place… At least two bedrooms, one for him and one for his father.
Well. Then again, his papa was Gunner Eriksson.
Of course he was planning ahead, but the drugs were making him more than a little dopey, because the solution to this problem was obvious. “I don’t think you should be worrying about that right now. Or, you know, spending any money while on painkillers.”
“Ugh, probably. But they’re all alone there.” Some neurons must have fired correctly through the drug haze, because he brightened and met my gaze. “Hey! You can check on them.” Then his face fell “Unless you have a road trip. Oh God, you probably have a road trip. I’m sorry, I didn’t want you to worry or?—”
I squeezed his hand. “Babe, I’ll go get the cats tomorrow. They can stay with me. You and your father can stay with me. I’ve got three bedrooms, remember?”
“But road trips?”
“Five game homestand,” I said. “You’ll be recovering and your dad will be here while I’m gone.”
The furrowed brow again. “Yeah,” he said slowly, then nodded. “Yeah, that’ll work. I should’ve thought of that.”
“Well, drugs.” I gave him a smile. “You’re out of it.”
“Probably.” He closed his eyes and laid his head back against the pillows. “God, I’m tired. I hate this. I’m glad you came. You fixed everything. I love you.”
I leaned over him to press a kiss to his forehead. “Love you too. Don’t worry about anything. Sleep. Do you want me to stay overnight?”
“No. I mean, yes, but no. I’d feel too guilty and probably wouldn’t sleep. Feel better if I knew you could get a good night’s rest. You won your game. You should rest.”
“You won your game, too.”
He huffed a laugh. “I get surgery as a prize!”
“Yeah. That sucks.” I rose and kissed his forehead again. “Babe, try to sleep. Do what the docs say. I’ll be back tomorrow.”
“Mmm,” Jon muttered before he closed his eyes.
I left him to sleep, thanked the nurses on my way out and headed back to my apartment. I’d have to rearrange my office and get a bed, but that wasn’t a concern. The place was big enough, and I’d feel better if Jon and his dad were somewhere that wasn’t a soul-sucking hotel. Returning the favor, as it were.
Despite all that was running through my head, I fell asleep hard and woke early. After texting with the team, I found out when Jon’s surgery was (nine this morning) and that Coach was giving me a maintenance day. So a coffee and an hour drive later, and I was letting myself into Jon’s house.
Loki practically tackled me, so I swept his big fluffy butt up into my arms. “Hey, it’s okay! I know you’ve been alone forever!”
Meanwhile Thor meowed forlornly at my feet. “You guys are going on a trip, okay? Going to come live with me for a bit.”
I set Loki on the floor and quieted his protests by feeding both him and Thor. Then I stood in the living room with my hands on my hips, making a mental checklist of what I’d need. Thank goodness I’d lived here for a while, because I knew where everything was. Took me the better part of the morning to pack the cats’ stuff up. The smaller of the two scratching posts fit in my SUV, thankfully .
I also grabbed the pile of books by Jon’s bed, his laptop, all his chargers, and the perishable stuff in the fridge (that went into a cooler he kept in the garage).
Wrangling the cats into their carriers wasn’t as hard as I thought it would be, and I didn’t even lose any blood in the process. Loki complained bitterly, which set Thor to whining, too, but I’d take that over having them here on their own.
The ride back was another hour, but this time with a chorus of unhappy cat noises, which I tried to quell by singing nonsense songs to them like Jon did. I think everyone in the SUV was quite happy when I reached my apartment. Cats went up first, and they vanished up the stairs to the floor with the bedrooms as soon as I let them out of the carriers.
Probably thought I was catnapping them, or something.
Spent a few more hours setting things up in the house, and the cats came out of hiding. Loki bumped up against my legs and let me pick him up. “Your dad’s hurt. He’s gonna spend some time here, so you guys need to be here too, okay?”
Loki meowed at me and looked unimpressed, but clung to me when I attempted to place him on the floor, so I ended up carrying twenty-some pounds of cat around the house with me.
Guess I was getting my off-ice workout after all.
When my phone chimed, I maneuvered Loki into one arm and snatched it up to see a text from our GM telling me Jon was out of surgery and that everything went well. I let out a breath.
I wasn’t worried, per se, but hearing that Jon was okay felt like a weight lifted off me.
I deposited Loki on a scratching post. “ Sorry, bud. Gotta go see your dad.” I grabbed Jon’s phone charger and the book he’d been reading, and headed out.
Jon wasn’t the only person in his room when I got there, the man sitting at his bedside and speaking quietly with Jon in Swedish was utterly recognizable. Jon’s father noticed me first, and his smile was almost a twin to the one Jon had so often. “Ah,” he said. “Your young man is here.”
Jon’s smile was a tired version of his father’s. “Hey. You’re here.”
“I am. And I brought your phone charger and the book you were reading.”
As I entered the room, his father stood, and I was reminded that Gunther Eriksson, at six foot four, was taller than his son. Taller than me. His blond hair had silvered over the years, and his clean-shaven face had mischievous wrinkles. His smile, and the twinkling in his blue eyes were so akin to Jon’s that I wondered how in the world I’d missed that these two were related when I’d met Jon all those months ago.
I gave Jon his charger and book, and leaned in for a quick kiss. Jon looked so much better. Tired, yes. Very rumpled. His arm and shoulder were in a high tech–looking sling, but gone was the glassy-eyed stare of the night before.
Jon’s father cleared his throat. “You must be Drake. It’s a pleasure to meet you, finally.”
I shook his hand. “Hello, sir. It’s nice to meet you, too. Even if it’s because?—”
“I broke myself,” Jon said.
His father sighed. “Jon, you were tripped.”
“And broke myself,” Jon replied, cheerily.
“Anyway,” I said, because I knew Jon would go off on that tangent if I let him, “Wish it had been for better circumstances. ”
“Same. And please . Gunner or Erik. Sir is too formal, and I am not particularly that.”
“Gunner.” I grabbed a folding chair I’d spotted in the corner and took a seat on the other side of Jon’s bed. “Loki and Thor are settling into the apartment. Loki wouldn’t let me set him down for a while.”
Jon rolled his eyes. “Oh, that big baby. Thanks for getting them.” He tapped the book. “And this.” He paused. “And for keeping me from drunk-buying a place last night.”
Gunner laughed at that. “You didn’t!” He turned to me. “He didn’t, did he?”
“Well, he was thinking about it. But I have three bedrooms. Enough for the cats and you two, I think.”
Gunner chuckled at that. “Loki does take up a lot of space. And Thor tries.” He shook his head. “Also, you kids don’t need me hanging around. I’ll be fine at the William Penn for a week or two.”
I was going to protest, but Jon patted my hand. “Don’t bother. I tried. Papa enjoys high-end hotels, and this way, we don’t have to figure out your office.”
Of course, now that Jon’s mind was clear, he’d have thought it all through. “It’s no problem, though.”
Gunner clicked his tongue. “Believe me, I was young once. You two need the space.” He held up a hand to stop me from saying anything. “And I’ve checked your schedule, you don’t have any long road trips for another three weeks. Everything is fly in and out. After that, we’ll figure things out.”
“All right.” I recognized where Jon got his stubborn streak from.
“Besides,” Jon said, “The other PASOs said they’d take care of me while you’re gone.”
I blinked. “ Other PASOs?” That was the first time I’d heard him refer to himself as one of the Lion’s partners and significant others, even if he did hang out with the group a lot.
He shrugged, then grimaced. “Shit, I gotta stop doing that. Ugh.” Jon shook his head while his father snorted.
“Technically,” Gunner said, “He’s your significant other. Absolutely not surprised the group here reached out to him. You’re well-loved. He’s well-loved. With the Lions and the Otters.”
“Wait,” Jon said. “How do you know this?”
Gunner sat back and gave Jon a look that was so Jon-like that I had to slap my hand over my mouth to keep from roaring in laughter. Jon pinned that same look on me, and I failed to keep the laughter in.
Soon we were all laughing, but Jon waved us to stop. “Shit, it hurts. Fuck.” There were tears in his eyes. “I mean, it feels good, because damn, I hate everything about this, and I’m so happy you’re both here, but Papa, have you been spying on me ?”
“No.” That was said with every ounce of Eriksson indignation, and Gunner’s accent only heightened the impact. “I would never. But word gets back, Jon.” He smiled sweetly. “I’m so proud of you. Your team. Your bar. The life you’ve built.” He gestured at me. “The man you’ve met and chosen.”
Jon wiped his eyes. “Stop.”
Gunner chuckled, then turned to me. “And you. You took a stumble, then responded the right way, and look at you now. Your name’s in all the outlets.”
“If it hadn’t been for Jon—” I started.
“Stop,” Jon said again. “You did the work. I just got you to breathe a little.”
“Is that what the kids are calling it these days? ”
“Papa!” Jon said, aghast.
Gunner cackled like… well like Jon often did.
“Oh my God,” I muttered. “There are two of you.”
“Wait until you meet Sofia,” Gunner said. “My wife says we three are peas in a pod.”
That was a sobering thought. Because—I wanted to meet Jon’s sister. I wanted to meet Jon’s mother—wanted my mother to meet them, too.
My future was right there, beleaguered and in a sling in a hospital bed. I wanted him home , wherever that would end up being.
“I love you,” I said.
Jon rubbed his eyes more. “Love you, too. Get me out of here.”
Gunner rose. “I’ll go see if I can find a nurse or a doctor who can tell us what’s next.”
When he’d left the room, I leaned in for another kiss. “You’re just like your dad.”
“I am not. My dad is a Hall of Fame Player. I’m?—”
“A good, kind, wonderful man. Just like your dad.” I took his hand. “You know we’re going to get married, right?”
He barked a laugh. “Yeah. Figured that out a while ago. But I didn’t want to scare you with proposing at some weird moment.”
“Like in a hospital?”
He gave me a gentle shove. “Exactly.”
Eventually, Gunner came back, and after a while, Jon’s doctor showed up and we got the schedule for his release and what needed to happen next, and a whole list of post-op items, including a visiting nurse who’d check up on him. Medications. You named it. Jon was exhausted by the end. “Fucking anesthesia. I always feel like I’m missing half my brain afterward. ”
“How’d we notice?” I quipped, and he gave me another shove.
“Just for that,” Jon said, “can you go get me a coffee? A real one? There’s a coffee shop on the first floor.”
“God, yes,” I said. “Could use one, too. Gunner?”
“If you don’t mind, may I come along?”
And that’s how I ended up in an elevator with a living hockey legend. Whose son I was going to marry. I didn’t know what to say.
Gunner seemed tired but amused. “I took a red-eye to get here. I have no idea the time, except that I want to sleep, but can’t. Coffee will help.” His gaze met mine. “You’ve been so good for him. I’m very grateful for that.”
“I—” I shook my head. “Truth is, he’s been good for me. This is—I owe him this. I love him. This is a small thing.”
Gunner nodded. “Believe me, I understand that.”
That was a scary thought, because I wasn’t sure I did. We collected our coffees and headed back up to Jon’s room.
I’d like to say that soon after, we were able to take Jon to my place, but it took several more hours for him to be released, and it was past dinner time when we finally got back to the apartment that contained two very confused cats. They were as happy to see Jon as he was to see them, and he ended up in the living room talking to his father while Loki and Thor sat on him. I ordered takeout from a local Thai restaurant, and we eventually ate.
A yawning Gunner headed back to his hotel, leaving me with Jon and the cats. I joined him on the couch.
“Thank you,” Jon said. “So much. For everything. The cats. My laptop and clothing. Even the food you rescued.” He rubbed his head. “It’s a lot. Right after a game. Right before another.”
“You’d do exactly the same for me. ”
“I would.” We met each other’s gazes, and I wrapped an arm—carefully—around him. “You should rest.”
“Drake?” Jon’s voice sounded small.
“Yeah, babe?”
“Don’t make me sleep in the guest room alone. I know maybe I should, but I’ve missed you, and I feel awful, and I just?—”
“Of course.” I wasn’t going to argue with him. “I’ll try not to roll around too much.”
Jon snorted. “Gone for a couple months, and you’ve forgotten that Loki and Thor are going to sandwich you in place.”
I helped Jon clean himself up, got his ice bath machine running, and once that was done, we crawled into bed. The cats followed, and yes, they sandwiched me in place.
“I love you, Drake Williams,” Jon said. “I fully intend to marry you and have lots of dinner dates for the rest of our lives.”
I knew it wasn’t the pain meds talking.
“I want that,” I said. “Whenever you’re ready.”
He laughed. “Oh God. Such pressure.”
I found his hand under the covers. “Not at all. We’ll know when it’s time. Just like everything else.”
“God,” he murmured again. “Yeah. Okay.” The last bit was a whisper, and I was pretty sure he was asleep after that.
Loki started purring deeply, and I let that rumble lull me to sleep, too.