Chapter 9 #3
When my fist connected with Tate’s shoulder, debilitating pain ripped through mine, and I knew with a sick certainty that I was in fact making everything worse.
Immediately, a whistle blew from somewhere inside the rink, and I heard Coach Alan bark my name.
“Callahan, what the hell is wrong with you?”
I didn’t answer. I couldn’t. I glared at Tate, throwing another punch that cracked him in the nose.
Immediately, he bent over, covering his face, groaning in pain.
I barely heard him as my pulse pounded loudly in my ears, drowning out everything except the pain that was radiating down my arm and up into my neck and jaw.
Again, I heard a whistle blow, and then I felt hands on me as Nightly, Kells, and Cromwell pulled me away from Tate, directing me to the other side of the rink.
“Callahan, get off the ice and get your ass changed!” Coach yelled as Assistant Cooper immediately came in with Bianca and tended to Tate’s bloody nose.
Fuming, I stumbled off the ice and took off toward the locker room, throwing my equipment in all directions as I went.
I stood with my face to the wall, trying to calm down, when I heard the door open behind me.
“What the hell was that?” Bianca shouted.
I turned around to see her standing there, her arms crossed over her chest, her expression unreadable.
“Nothing. Stay out of it,” I muttered.
I’d figured she’d have heeded my warning, but I was wrong.
“Evan…you almost broke his nose,” she said, her voice soft and non-confrontational.
“He shouldn’t run his mouth.”
Bianca said nothing. Instead, she just gazed at me with that analytical gaze, trying to figure me out.
“This isn’t like you.”
I couldn’t help but let out a humorous laugh.
“You don’t know what I’m like.”
“You are right. I don’t know what you’re like because every time I turn around you are someone different. So why don’t you tell me what you’re like?”
I shoved off the lockers and stepped into her space. I looked into those beautiful eyes to see the way her pupils dilated as I continued moving closer. Before I realized it, she had pressed herself against the wall with nowhere to go.
“You were laughing with him, Bianca. You never laugh like that with me.”
Bianca blinked and looked at me with confusion. Then I saw something flash across her face.
“Evan…are you jealous?”
“You were laughing,” I repeated. “Like it was easy. Like he was easy to talk to.”
Bianca frowned. “And you’re not.”
“No. I’m difficult…I’m…” I stopped, noticing how ragged my voice sounded.
“What?” she pressed, leaning toward me and placing her small hand where it always seemed to land, right in the center of my chest. “What are you, Evan?”
I stared right into those beautiful blue eyes, eyes I could so easily get lost in if I allowed myself.
“I’m jealous of everyone who gets to be near you without…without carrying all of this,” I said, nodding toward my right side.
We stood in the quietness, staring at one another.
“You know, Evan, you aren’t what you think you are, but you’ve been so busy pushing me away, you’ve barely given me a chance to laugh with you.”
“I do that because you don’t know what you’d be getting,” I said, my voice cracking.
“Stop assuming you know what it is I want and allow me to decide.”
Her voice was barely above a whisper, but I could hear the steel underneath.
“You should want easy, Bianca,” I said, swallowing hard.
She brought her other hand up and rested it against my chest as well. “What if I don’t want easy? What if…what if I want you?”
Her words were like a physical blow to my gut because I knew what she was saying wasn’t true.
“You don’t know what you’re saying. You do not know what I am.”
Her eyes held mine. “Evan, I know exactly what you are. You are an injured man who is scared to death because he doesn’t know how to deal with what is in front of him.
That is all. Everything will change, and the man who can laugh and love will appear when the pain is gone.
I already know it, and that is why I’m still standing here. ”
Sweat trickled down my back.
Everything I’d learned from watching my parents had told me it was impossible for someone to want a broken version of a person.
“Evan…” she whispered as her hand traveled up to my cheek.
I took a step back, breaking the moment before I did something I wouldn’t ever be able to take back.
“I need to shower.”
I grabbed my towel and left her standing there, her pulse probably racing and her mind spinning out of control, just like mine was.
I knew without a doubt I was in trouble.
Deep, irreversible trouble. For the first time in my entire life, someone stood in front of me who actually wanted me, one who could see every ounce of my trauma. And she refused to leave.
After the locker room incident, my mind had been on everything but the game, so it didn’t shock me when we lost. I opened the condo door, stepping into the darkness. This time, the usual light that Bianca normally left on in the living room was already off.
Why was I doing this? I thought to myself as I made my way down to her door, raised my hand, and gently knocked. Why was I questioning myself? I knew exactly why. I banged again.
My shoulder had given out in the last few seconds of the game.
It hadn’t flared; it wasn’t aching; it had given out.
I’d wound up for a slapshot and my arm just…
stopped. Went dead. Another player hit me from behind, and I dropped my stick.
It clattered to the ice, and I stood there, chest heaving, staring down at my arm as if it belonged to someone else. I couldn’t feel a thing.
I’d been able to lie to myself for so long, and now I couldn’t anymore.
I was ending my career because I was stubborn.
It had been one hell of a drive home, and now the pain was so strong I could barely think straight.
A thin layer of sweat covered my body. I couldn’t breathe through the pain either, and there was no way I could be alone with it for another second.
I’d walked to her door. Desperate. Every step I took that brought me closer to her door almost killed me because knocking meant that I was admitting need. I was becoming my father, the man who, only a year after his injury, lost his wife because she could no longer stand the sight of him.
I knocked again.
The door opened, and Bianca stood there. Her hair was loose, her expression shifting from surprise to worry.
“Evan?”
I swallowed hard and closed my eyes, wincing from the pain.
“I can’t…my shoulder…it’s…”
Only the words didn’t come.
“Come in,” she whispered.
Her expression didn’t change to annoyance. Instead, it turned warm and steady, and she stepped back, giving me space. Or perhaps a choice.
I didn’t know what else to do. I didn’t want to go to bed and suffer alone, so I stepped inside.
Her room was dimly lit; the only light on was the small salt lamp on her nightstand. Her room smelled like lavender and something sweet, reminding me of her.
Bianca immediately came to my side, guiding me over to the edge of her bed, her movements careful. I glanced at the small desk in the corner where she had a pile of supplies laid out. Ice packs, compression wraps, as if she’d known I’d break.
“Let me see,” she whispered.
I exhaled, my breath slow and shaky as I pulled the shirt over my head. I heard Bianca’s breath catch, and I looked up to meet her eyes. She’d seen me shirtless countless times, but she’d never looked at me like this. When she noticed I was watching her, she looked away.
“Is it bad?”
“Let me look.”
She brought her fingers up and tenderly brushed them against my shoulder, clinical, professional, the exact opposite of how I wanted her to touch me.
“It’s lightly bruised. How long has it been this bad?” she asked quietly.
I looked down at the floor. “Days, maybe longer,” I said, not really remembering as I stared at the floor, trying to focus on anything but the pain.
“Evan…” Her voice cracked. “You could have permanent damage.”
“I know.” God, the words tasted like poison. “If I told anyone, then I’d be benched, and if I’m benched…”
If I were benched, I was nothing, because I was nothing without hockey.
Bianca walked over to the desk and cracked one of the cold packs, quickly mixing the contents before she moved back over to me and pressed the pack to my shoulder, her other hand steadying my arm, giving it support.
The cold bit into my skin, but I barely felt it because of the pain.
She stood right beside me, mere inches away, her breath brushing against my cheek, her eyes focused on me with such an intensity that it made my pulse stutter.
“I swore I’d never allow anyone to see me like this.”
“I know you think this makes you weak, but it doesn’t. It makes you human. I’ve spent my entire life pretending I need nothing from anyone, and it only made me feel one thing—alone,” she admitted, holding my arm against her as she continued to hold the ice pack in place.
“Bianca…” I whispered.
I realized we were both the same, behind the same wall, fighting the same losing battle.
As we sat there in the dimly lit room together, I was sure I saw her gaze flicker to my lips for a moment. It was so quick, I thought maybe I’d imagined it, but I hadn’t; it was there.
I leaned in, like a moth drawn to a flame, close enough to touch, and our lips almost brushed. Every muscle in my body was tense as I held myself back.
Bianca looked at me, biting her bottom lip, waiting for me to lean in.
“I shouldn’t,” I murmured.
“Why?” Her voice was barely a whisper.
“Because if I start, I will not stop. I think it’s best that I go...”
She carefully lowered my arm and, while still holding the ice pack to my shoulder, she stepped in front of me, pushing her bare legs between mine.
“I understand, but I don’t think you should be alone. Please stay.”
“What? Why?” I asked, looking up at her.
“I want you to stay. Allow yourself to be vulnerable, just for tonight. I don’t want you to run from me, to run from being seen. Please, stay.”
I swallowed hard as I looked up into her soft gaze. She placed her hand on the side of my cheek, resting it there as she looked into my eyes.
I didn’t trust my voice to speak, but instead of fighting her, I finally let my guard down.
She stepped back enough to allow me to bring my legs around and up onto the bed, where I lay back against her pillow.
She adjusted the pillows, making sure I was comfortable before she left the room, returning with the hot bag, two pain pills, and some water.
She gave me the pain pills which I shoved into my mouth, then drank the water.
She placed the glass on the nightstand and then moved around to the opposite side of the bed, crawling in beside me.
From there she switched out the ice pack for the heat.
I hadn’t realized how exhausted I was from carrying all of this. I lay there, letting the heat sink into my shoulder and the pain pills work while looking into her eyes as she lay beside me. I had nothing left in me tonight, so I had to allow her to take care of me, and that terrified me.
The hours that followed were far more intimate than anything physical could ever be.
We just lay there in silence, looking at one another, unspoken words floating between us.
As I finally drifted off to sleep, for the first time in my entire life, I wasn’t sure I ever wanted this to stop between us.