Chapter 6
HAILEY
As the practice rink grew more distant behind me, I let my smile fade.
I knew she meant well. I knew Gina, and I knew that she wasn’t trying to pry, that she simply wanted to make sure I was okay, but I just couldn't burden her with my own problems and responsibilities.
Wrong. She's not a ‘problem’ . The thought slapped me like a puck out of left field, and I sucked in a breath, my fingers tightening around the straps of my gear bag.
I hailed a cab and slid into the back seat, my fingers still clenched around the strap of my backpack. The driver gave me a cursory glance in the rearview mirror, muttered a greeting, and I responded absently before giving him the name of the hospital.
The city lights blurred past, neon streaks against the deepening night. I exhaled slowly, rolling my shoulders back as if I could physically shake off the conversation with Gina.
She meant well. I knew that. But knowing it didn’t make it any easier.
My fingers drummed against my thigh as the cab navigated through traffic. I didn’t love hospitals. The smell of antiseptic, the too-bright lights, the way the air always felt too sterile, too thin. But that didn’t matter. Mallory was there. That was the only thing that mattered.
When I stepped out of the cab, the chill in the air bit through my hoodie, but I barely noticed.
I jogged up the steps, pushed through the glass doors, and navigated the familiar hallways with ease.
By the time I reached Mallory’s room, my heart had settled into a dull thud, the tension from practice still lingering in my limbs.
I eased the door open carefully, not wanting to wake her if she was asleep. But the second my head peeked inside, a bright pair of eyes locked onto mine.
“You’re late,” Mallory said, her voice still a little hoarse—no doubt from earlier treatments, but teasing, nonetheless.
I let out a soft breath, stepping inside fully. “Yeah, well, some of us have real jobs.”
Mallory snorted, rolling her eyes back at me. “You're a student , Hailey.”
I dropped my bag onto the chair beside her bed and leaned against the railing. “Exactly. That's the most serious job of all, you brat.” I said.
Mallory grinned, and despite everything—despite where we were, despite the fact that she was stuck in this hospital bed, despite the exhaustion clear in the way her hands trembled slightly where they rested on the blanket—her smile still had that ridiculous ability to make my chest ache.
She’d never let her FND diagnosis steal her joy. Never .
But it still didn’t stop me from wishing she didn’t have to fight this disease…that she didn’t deserve it. I reached forward, flicking a loose strand of hair out of her face. “How are you feeling?”
She made a noncommittal noise. “Better.”
Relief uncoiled in my chest. “That’s good.” I said, my throat tight.
“Yeah.” She hesitated for a second, then gave me a knowing look. “But that’s not what you actually want to ask, is it?”
I sighed, dragging a hand through my hair. “I just... I know you hate being here.”
Mallory’s expression softened. “It’s not your fault, Hails.”
But it felt like it was. Every damn time.
It wasn’t just about the hospital stays, the treatments, the exhaustion that clung to her like a second skin.
It was the fact that I wasn’t the one taking care of her.
Our adoptive parents were. And, of course, she needed them.
But I didn’t. And that was why I was so painfully aware of the debt I owed that I had to do everything within my power to repay it.
Which was why I had to make it. Why I had to succeed, to carve out a future in hockey that would let me take care of my sister myself. Because no matter how much our adoptive parents said otherwise, I couldn’t let them bear this responsibility forever.
I shook my head and straightened. “So. Want me to tell you about my day?” It was best to focus on now, this moment.
Mallory perked up, the exhaustion momentarily pushed aside. “Only if it’s entertaining.”
I groaned. “Oh, trust me. It’s a mess." And then I told her everything that'd happened today; how we were supposed to share our ice rink with the men's hockey team for the next one month, unable to resist throwing in a few insults to the Rink Runners' Captain, just because I could.
Mallory's eyes were twinkling as she watched me, however. That made me narrow my eyes.
"So, he's annoying?"
“ Infuriating .” I leaned back against the chair, shaking my head. “He’s a cocky playboy who's completely convinced that he’s the best thing to ever happen to hockey. And to women.”
Mallory hummed. “And?”
I frowned. “And what?”
Her eyes twinkled. “And you think he’s hot.”
I recoiled, sheer disgust slithering up and down my spine. “ Excuse me? How did you even get to that silly conclusion?”
Mallory burst into laughter, and the sound was so light, so easy, that I almost forgot where we were. Almost.
“Shut up,” I muttered, grabbing a pillow from the chair and tossing it at her. She was still laughing as she dodged it.
“Hey, I’m just saying,” she wheezed between giggles. “You’re talking about him an awful lot.”
I rolled my eyes, but I couldn’t fight the small smile that tugged at my lips. “I'm venting about him," I corrected her, "there's a difference."
"Uh huh." She laughed, but then her expression softened; her amusement melting into something quieter. More serious. “Hey, Hails?”
I raised an eyebrow, my attention completely on her. Her sombre tone put me on high alert almost instantly. “Yeah?”
Her fingers curled into the blanket. “I...I'm doing fine, you know," she said and I inhaled sharply. "You don't have to blame yourself for any of this—"
"Mallory—" I started to say, but she just shook her head, cutting me off.
"Mom and Dad are taking care of me," she said and I pressed my mouth into a thin line. Well, I couldn't argue with that. "And that's another thing. Why won't you come home for dinners, even just one time? They miss you." They want to take care of you, too .
I heard the words she didn't say, and that just made me clench my hands into fists in my lap. "The season will soon begin," I said, the words falling from my lips with a near robotic precision. "I... I'm busy. Besides, I know they take care of you—"
"Mom and Dad." Mallory interjected again and I blinked.
"What?"
"They're "Mom" and "Dad", not ‘they’." She said, her jaw set stubbornly.
Was she lecturing me right now? I didn’t know whether to feel affronted or amused by that, honestly. So, I just sighed instead.
"I...I know that," I said, "I just..." I just don't want to owe them more than I already do now . But I didn't say any of that out loud. Lord knew it'd just ruin the atmosphere way more than it was now. "I'm not..."
“I know.” She said, her voice gentle and her lips curving in a soft smile. “Just... don’t carry everything alone, okay?”
My hands curled into fists, but I forced myself to nod. Even though we both knew the gesture itself was a lie; merely performative.
Mallory studied me for another second, then sighed. “You should go home. Get some sleep.”
I scoffed. “Pot, meet kettle.” I said and she laughed softly. "I'll stay for a while longer. Tell me about you. How was your day?"
Mallory screwed her face up into a frown before it morphed into a mischievous expression. "I'd much rather hear you vent about that ‘infuriating’ Captain, though," She said.
"Oh, don't tempt me, because then we'd never leave." I groaned, and she laughed now, her tone light.
And even though I kept my distance from most people, even though I spent years building walls over aspects of my life that even my own teammates couldn’t see past—
I knew there was nothing I wouldn’t do for her.