Chapter 19
CHAPTER NINETEEN
JONAH
Because it was life and not some fucking Hallmark miracle movie, Alexio didn’t ask for me, and I didn’t rot in the waiting room until he changed his mind.
Eventually, I got tired and hungry and sore, and Vanya managed to convince me to go home.
He tried to insist on staying at my place, but in that moment, I just wanted to be by myself.
I needed a good, hard cry and…I didn’t know what. A shower. Probably some food. A shot of moonshine made in the wilds of Appalachia that would knock me unconscious for seven days?
It was hard to tell.
Instead, I slept. Sort of. It was more like drifting in and out of consciousness, but the only thing I managed was compartmentalizing enough to show up for morning practices and evening games. We had two that week, then a two-day stretch of nothing before the first playoff game of the season.
It was at home, which was…something, I guess. And it was against the Fury, which was something even more because it meant playing against Micah. We hadn’t spoken since I’d texted him to let him know our dad was settled, and he didn’t ask how I was.
The distance between us felt like a fucking canyon, and part of me wanted to do something about it because in this moment, I wanted my fucking brother to be there for me, but I also didn’t want to ask for help.
I didn’t want to talk to anyone about it.
If I tried, I was going to fall apart.
Vanya managed to coerce a key out of Tucker, and I came home two nights in a row to find food on my counter and a text on my phone letting me know that I needed to eat.
I sent him back a heart, but the food went into the fridge, and the only thing I was able to choke down was a protein shake so I didn’t collapse on the ice.
Nikos had no updates about Alexio except that he could see light and shadows and movement, and that was increasing each day that his swelling went down. So…it was something. But there was no telling where that something would plateau.
Head injuries were tricky, and I couldn’t pretend to understand what he was going through. I’d never been seriously injured on the ice. I’d never really lost anything.
But the pain of him shutting me out was killing me.
The night before our first game against the Fury, there was a knock on the door, and I didn’t bother getting up from where I was rotting on the couch.
I had a giant cup of chamomile tea cooling between my hands, a vague hope of settling my stomach before the morning, and I wasn’t in the mood to be plied with platitudes or attempts to feed me.
Then I heard the lock click, and my heart twisted in my chest because there was the sound of a white cane tip hitting the wall and then the thud of someone hanging it on the hook next to mine.
Only one person did that.
My chin wobbled as my brother got closer. “Are you on the couch?”
“Mhm,” I managed.
He didn’t ask me where I was. His footsteps shuffled closer, and then his hands touched my legs and traced their way up to my torso, and eventually landed on my shoulders. “Jonah” was all he said.
And that was when I lost it. For the first time since the accident, I cried. I couldn’t stop it even if I wanted to. The sobs trapped in my chest were raw and painful and ugly, and came out in a harsh wheeze as Micah tucked me against his chest and held me.
“Tucker told me everything.” There was a strange note in his voice I couldn’t read.
Fuck. Was he mad at me?
“You could have told me. Jesus, Jonah, I would have been here. I would have…”
“I’m sorry,” I managed to get out.
“No. Shit, I—no. I’m just saying that I know I have whatever going on, but I would have been here. I heard about Zeki and…god, I didn’t know you two were that serious.”
I sniffed and swiped my sleeve under my nose before pulling back and scrubbing the tears off my face.
“A few people know. We weren’t really telling anyone yet.
I think both of us wanted to wait until playoffs were over.
I’d barely seen him over the last few weeks.
Since, you know, we decided we were something. ”
His hands found mine, and he squeezed my fingers the same way he used to do when we were little and our mom was being insufferable.
I took several breaths. “He won’t let me in to see him.”
“So?”
My brows flew up. “What do you mean so?”
“I mean, so what. Go see him anyway.”
“That’s not how it works, Micah.” I pulled away and scrubbed both hands down my face. “He’s banned me from his room.”
“Did he?”
“I—” I stopped. I didn’t actually know that. I knew what he told Nikos, and then I’d stopped trying to see him. Fuck.
“Uh-huh.”
“Shut the fuck up,” I snapped at him. “It’s not like you’re an expert in relationships. You fuck whoever you want whenever you want without giving a shit about their feelings.” Micah went so silent I knew I’d said something wrong. My throat tightened. “I—I mean—”
“I know what you meant,” he said quietly.
Shit. I was fucking everything up. “Micah—”
“It’s fine. Really,” he added when I made a noise of disagreement. “You’re going through it.”
I let out a slow puff of air, then said, “It’s been weird between us. It’s mostly your fault, but today, it’s me, and I’m sorry.”
“I know,” he murmured. “There’s been…it’s…”
I waited, but he didn’t fill the rest of the silence with any kind of explanation about what he was going through or how he was feeling.
“I don’t like it,” I told him. “I don’t like feeling like this. You’re my best fucking friend in the world, and I know it wasn’t Dad that ripped everything apart. And the fact that you’re here means that I know you don’t think we’re broken either.”
“We’re not broken. And it wasn’t Dad. I mean, I’m still pissed Mom threw this at us and you decided to play the dutiful son again, but…
I get it. I get why you did it.” He swallowed so heavily I heard it click in his throat.
“I know it’s mostly me. Everything is so fucked-up right now, and tomorrow, I have to get on the ice and play this fucking game when all I want is…
” He took a deep breath. “I don’t even know what I want. ”
“It’ll be over soon,” I told him. The last thing in the world I wanted was to finish this season. I was tempted to fake an injury or beg Tucker to get the organization to suspend me for the rest of the season or something.
But I knew that wasn’t the move. I was better than that, and I was going to see Alexio again. Eventually.
Maybe soon.
“Do me a favor,” Micah said. “Make me a bet.”
“What?” I murmured.
“If we win tomorrow, you go to the hospital and try to see him.”
My heart sped up. “And if I win?”
“Go to the hospital tomorrow and try to see him.”
I let out a watery, ragged laugh and dragged both hands through my hair. “Yeah. I—yeah. Okay.”
“And call me more often. Even if I don’t pick up. I think I need to be reminded you’re still here. And that everything isn’t crumbling.”
I reached for him again, pulling him tight into a hug. “It’s not crumbling. It’s just a little…rough right now.”
“It’s shit.”
Well. I couldn’t disagree with that.
“Fuck yes! Amazing job, boys, you fucking beauties!” Tucker’s voice rang across the ice. It was an easy win against the Fury. Four of their players were out on late-season injuries, and while Miach was playing well, he wasn’t at the top of his game.
I wasn’t either. It was all our offense that got us the win, and I wasn’t sure we were going to make it past the next round—if we made it past Salem.
I wasn’t even sure what I wanted. Never in my life had I not been starving for the cup, but today, I didn’t want to be there. I wanted to be at St. Mary’s. I wanted Alexio. I wanted to fast-forward past the moment all of this started to be too fucking much.
Head bumps took forever after the team celly calmed down, and Tucker pulled me aside as I let go of Tiago’s stick to step off the ice.
“Micah told me you’re going to St. Mary’s after this. ESPN wanted to talk to you, but—”
“No. I…I can’t. Not today,” I told him. “Please, Tuck…”
“I’ve got your back. Matty and Tiago will handle it, okay?”
I wanted to throw up with relief. I had a ride ready to take me the moment I was showered and in regular clothes. I planned to sneak out as best I could, and I wasn’t going to let up until Alexio told me with his own face that he didn’t want me there.
It didn’t take me long to get through the shower, and Tiago snuck away from the press to help me get down the hall and out the back doors without anyone noticing. Gripping me by the back of the neck, he knocked his forehead into mine.
“Tell him to stop being a jackass.”
I laughed quietly. “I’ll do my best.”
The car was waiting, and luckily, the driver seemed to read the room because she didn’t try to make small talk as she navigated through the shitty post-game traffic and then toward the hospital.
It was on the edge of town and not near the arena, so traffic eventually calmed down a bit, and it wasn’t long before she was pulling up to the curb.
“Do you need help in?” she asked.
I grimaced. I probably did. I wasn’t familiar with the hospital at all, but I shook my head anyway. “I have an app. Thanks though.” I made sure to tip her a little extra before firing up SeeingEye and waiting for the call to connect.
I put my earbud in just as I heard a voice connect. “Hello. I’m your SeeingEye volunteer. How can I assist you?” The voice was a low, soothing rumble. A man who sounded much older than me—grandpa vibes, but the good kind. Not the angry at the world, hating youths, low-key racist kind.
“Hi. I’m at the hospital, and I need to get to the elevators, then to the Neuro ICU. If you could just direct me from the signs, that would be a huge help.”