Chapter Nineteen
CHAPTER NINETEEN
SAbrINA
I almost kissed Max. My lips were seconds away from touching Max Daws’s full, pouty lips.
What the hell had I been thinking?
I hadn’t been thinking, honestly. The closer his head dipped to me, the more entranced I became. Zero thoughts had crossed my mind. I let my instincts take the lead.
Or had it been my foolish heart?
No! No. It couldn’t be that.
No. Nope. Nada. I can’t think that way. I need to change my line of thinking.
There is no point in dwelling on that moment in time because nothing happened. We were interrupted before we could do anything stupid, and then we’d spent a pleasant morning together hunting down Boston donuts before we both had to catch flights. There hadn’t been any awkwardness, no looks of longing or anything of the kind.
We were good.
Well, he was good. I was a wreck. Overthinking to the max. Figuratively and literally.
Max and the team are back in the city, but after tonight’s game, we’ll head up to Barrie with Max to get the last of the footage we need and one final interview. It feels really bittersweet that my time with Max will be over so soon.
It’s actually been nice spending time with him, getting to know the man he’d become. Just like old times.
“You seem really fixated on the Zamboni,” a voice says from just behind me, making me jump.
“Oh, Jesus. You scared me.” With a hand on my chest, I quickly glance at the woman who magically appeared at my side as I get my heart rate back under control. She’s a very pretty woman, blond and dressed nicely in a team jersey and tight white jeans. I’ve met some of the other hockey wives and girlfriends, but this woman is new.
“Name’s Kate, actually.”
I stare at her blankly for a moment before my brain—and the joke—kicks in. My laugh is a little strained at being caught but quickly turns genuine.
“I’m Sabrina,” I say, extending my hand. Kate takes it, pumping twice before we both turn back to the ice.
“I know who you are. Tommy showed me some of your reporting highlights after he was interviewed by you.”
“I’m sorry, I don’t remember interviewing a Tommy…” I let my voice trail off as I think back, drawing a complete blank.
“Coach Taylor. He’s my husband.”
“Tomás Taylor is your husband?”
An unbelievable laugh escapes my lips. I cannot imagine anyone calling the formidable Coach Tomás Taylor “Tommy.” The man looks like he could be stranded in the middle of the forest and make it work, building and killing things with his bare hands.
And this woman beside me calls him Tommy.
“You looked shocked. Were you crushing on him and didn’t know he was married?”
“Oh my God, no!” I say immediately, not catching the twinkle in her eyes until I’m thoroughly mortified. “You were joking,” I exhale. With the way my heart rate keeps going up and down dramatically, I may have a cardiovascular event tonight.
“Sorry, I couldn’t help it. You seemed like you needed to be jolted out of your thoughts.”
“So you played the jealous wife card? Brutal.”
She shrugs, a wide smile on her face. “Worked, didn’t it?”
I have to hand it to her—it was a genius move. Sharing a smile and a laugh with Kate, I look toward the scoreboard clock. The game should be starting in ten minutes.
“Were you thinking about Max?” Kate asks out of nowhere.
“I’m always thinking about Max.” The words are out of my mouth before I even know what I’m saying. Stunned at my blunt honesty, I twist toward her, trying to take them back immediately. “I mean—”
“I get it,” she starts, not letting me dig myself into an even bigger hole. “I remember very well the exact conflicting emotions you’re going through. And trying to deny them.” She tilts her head in my direction, giving me a sympathetic look.
“Max and I are just friends.”
Kate nods. “Tommy and I were just friends too. Then high school sweethearts. Then, well, kismet. We were meant to be. And once we stopped fighting it, stopped making mountains of every single molehill, everything fell into place.”
I’m a little taken aback by Kate’s transparency with me. I mean, we just met, but here she is, giving out monumental life advice. Coach Taylor has been happily married for a decade now—it was something he mentioned in an interview not too long ago—so it would stand to reason that Kate knows what she’s talking about.
“You make it sound easy,” I confess to her, letting myself be utterly vulnerable for a moment.
“I know it doesn’t seem like it, but it is. You just have to mute that voice in your head that’s telling you all the things that could go wrong.”
The lights dim, and loud music begins to play throughout the arena. Kate reaches out and gives my hand a squeeze before walking to the other end of the suite to take her seat. My eyes instantly fall on Max as he skates around the ice, focused on keeping his muscles warm.
For a brief second, I think he’s looking up at the box, searching for me, until I realize how silly that is. I’m getting too in my head about all of this.
The first period passes in a blur of action and power plays. Both teams are fighting for the puck with a physicality you don’t usually see until playoff time. My eyes follow Max each time he speeds onto the ice.
I’m up and out of my seat, cursing at the blind ref when Max gets hit by Minkenov, a forward for Chicago. “Are you fucking kidding me?” I cry, pointing to the ice where Max is jumping back up to his skates. “How did you miss that high stick?”
The Toronto crowd boos at the dirty play, but no penalty is given.
I don’t bother sitting down. My anxiety is sky-high as Toronto continues to fight for possession. Mason gains control of the puck and powers down the centre, looking for his shot. He passes it to Pascal, who moves it back to Mason. Then, twisting around the Chicago defense like a goddamn legend, Max gains the puck and takes his shot.
Goal!
The crowd goes wild as the buzzer sounds and red lights fill the arena.
I’m jumping and cheering as loud as I can…and then it all stops.
Minkenov takes Max unaware and slams him into the boards. The slam can be heard through the cheering. It’s sickening. Horrific to watch.
Max crumbles to the ice, unmoving.
All hell breaks loose. Toronto piles onto the Chicago players. Too stunned to move, I watch as Mason pummels Minkenov, the refs unable to tear them apart. Through the chaos, two Toronto trainers run across the ice to get to Max. He’s still out cold and not responding to whatever they’re saying to him.
“You need to get down there.” Kate grabs my biceps and pulls me from my spot. “He’s out for the rest of the game. Get down there and be with him.”
I’m in such a daze all I can do is nod. Kate lets go of my arm but still gives me a nudge in the direction of a security guard. He motions for me to follow him, and I do. I’ve never walked so quickly in all my life.
When we get down to the players’ dressing room and lounge area, there’s activity everywhere. From the TVs in each corner of the room, I can see that play has resumed, but I don’t stop to watch. I need to find Max.
“Excuse me,” I call out to the first trainer I recognize and race toward him. “How’s Max? Where is he?”
“He’s being checked out further. He’s sustained a concussion and is a little dazed at the moment. Are you—”
“Yes,” I say, not caring if he was about to ask me if I was family, a girlfriend or whatever. I need to be with Max, so I’ll be whatever they want me to be.
“Okay, then they should be out in a few minutes.”
He walks away before I can start asking anything else. Unable to stay still, I pace the room, eyeing the double doors that lead to the assessment rooms every time I hear a noise. I don’t know how long I wait, but when they finally open and reveal Max, I finally take a breath.
He’s being supported by a trainer, but when he sees me, Max gives me a small smile. Even that small movement seems to hurt him. His brow furrows in pain.
“I’m here,” I whisper to him, reaching for his hand once he’s seated. “It’s okay.”
He doesn’t say anything, just blinks at me. He’s pale, and it feels like he’s shaking a bit as I continue to soothe him. More trainers, safety staff, and doctors come to chat with Max, but it’s clear he needs more medical attention.
When they load Max onto the ambulance they called, I give him a reassuring wave. As soon as they begin pulling out of the lot, I run back to the locker room area and get the trainers help to find his keys. I need a ride to the hospital and I know Max won’t mind me driving his car. Especially if it means getting me to his side faster.
Driving to the hospital is a blur. I park as close as I can to the Emergency Entrance and race inside. After speaking to a nurse and begging her to tell me where Max was, I make it just in time as he’s being wheeled into the imaging department. I reach for Max’s hand, giving him reassuring squeezes every now and then to let him know I’m not going anywhere.
The only time we’re separated is when he goes in for his CT scan. Stepping out into the hallway, I sag against the wall. My limbs are tense with worry, and I can feel a headache coming on, but none of that matters to me. I just need Max to be okay.
I should probably call his parents to let them know what’s happening. Grabbing my cell from my bag, I see that they’ve already called me, along with my dad and brothers. All of them know I was at the game tonight.
I tap Judy’s contact, and the call goes through. It only rings once before Judy picks up.
“How is he? What’s happening?”
Judy’s voice is frantic, pleading for information.
“He’s okay. We’re at the hospital, and he just went in for a CT scan. It’s a probable concussion, but we don’t know the severity. No bones are broken, and he didn’t mention any pain anywhere else other than his neck and head. He’s going to be removed from play for a minimum of a week. There’s no doubt about that.”
She relays the information to someone in the background before she speaks to me again.
“As long as he’s fine, that’s all we care about. George is looking at flights right now. We can be back in Canada in…maybe forty-eight hours.”
“I forgot,” I mumble over the line. “The family is in London for Maya’s West End debut.” Max couldn’t make it to the debut due to his game schedule, but I remember him saying he was going to fly out late next week.
“Maya will understand. Max needs us.”
“I’ll take care of him,” I find myself saying. “No need for you to rush back.”
“But he’ll need to be watched for any signs of worsening, won’t he? That’s a twenty-four-hour job.”
“That’s not a problem. We were supposed to go up to the Barrie house for filming tomorrow. We’ll just go up there now for his recovery and rest. Honestly, Judy, I can do this. I can take care of our boy.”
“Are you sure, Sabrina?” Judy asks again.
“I’m positive. Max will be in good hands with me, and I’ll keep you updated. He has the best doctors and trainers—everything will be fine.”
“Okay, if you’re sure. George and I are coming back next Thursday, but we can change our flights if needed.”
“I’ll let you know. And as soon as Max feels up to it, I’ll get him to call you.”
“Thank you, Sabrina,” Judy says, her voice shaky with nerves and relief. “It means the world to us that Max has you in his life.”
We chat for a couple of minutes longer before we both say goodbye. I’ve just leaned my head against the wall and closed my eyes for a moment of rest when my name is called.
Springing back to life, I head toward the waiting doctor and Max. My arms circle around Max for a quick hug before I brace an arm behind him and wait for the doctor’s diagnosis.
“He’s got a grade one concussion and will need to rest for the next three days. More if possible, but I’ve worked with athletes before and know they hate to sit still. Don’t let him do too much too soon though.”
The doctor goes on about the over-the-counter medicine he can take for the pain and stresses the need for lots of sleep. I listen carefully to all of it as Max holds on tight to my side. When we’re able to leave the hospital, I park Max off to the side of the entrance and speed walk to where I think I parked his car.
It’s not until I’m back behind the wheel that I realize there’s no way I could lay him down in the back seat. He drove one of his fancy cars tonight to the arena – not the kind of car that’s made for long journeys or comfortable resting. It isn’t big enough for a man of Max’s stature. Improvising, I recline the passenger seat as far as it can go and grab a blanket from the back.
“Thanks, babe,” he grumbles as he pushes out of the wheelchair and moves into the front seat. As soon as he’s settled, he closes his eyes and is fast asleep.
I don’t think I’ve ever been so aware of the bumps on a highway. Every time my car hits an imperfection on the road and shakes, I curse. My neck is starting to hurt from turning it so often to look over at Max. He never makes a noise of discomfort, but I’m a ball of nerves for the two-hour drive.
My hands tighten on the steering wheel when it starts to snow. The GPS shows I’m only a few minutes away from the house, but as an inexperienced driver, snow is not my friend. I blow out a large gust of breath when I finally see the house.
That sigh of relief is short-lived when I’m forced to stop right outside a gate.
“Son of a bitch, Max. Had to splurge for a fucking gate. What the hell kind of—”
“Are you bitching about me having a security gate?” Max grumbles from beside me. His voice is low and hoarse, still not sounding like his usual self. “I’m practically dying, and you’re cursing me.”
“Don’t say that,” I snap. “I was just commenting on the delay,” I lie to him. “Can you tell me the code, please?”
My finger pauses midway when he recites the code. It’s my birthday. What the hell? That’s a crazy coincidence. A gust of cold wind hits me in the face, and I lose my breath, snapping me out of my thoughts. I enter the code, and the gate slowly clicks open.
“So fancy,” I say to myself, starting up the long driveway.
I don’t have much time to admire the large house once we park in one of the alcoves near the door. Getting Max into the house and settled in bed is priority one. I’ll have all the time in the world after that to snoop around.
Yanking open the driver’s-side door, I make my way to the other side and reach in for Max.
“I’m okay, Bean. I can get out of the car myself.”
I give him a skeptical look but let him do his thing. I hold a hand out, not touching him but there and ready if anything should happen. We’re able to make it up the stairs and into the house without any issues.
Watching Max move around, even if it is at a slower-than-normal speed, relieves some of the tension in my chest. I’ve been functioning on autopilot since the hospital, only focusing on getting Max the care he needs and moving him from one safe space to another.
Now that we’re here, I feel a sense of peace at being surrounded by all his things. The space is very modern and open, but there are splashes of colour that add that unique Max touch.
“Could you grab me a bottle of water from the fridge? I’m going to lie down.”
“Are you okay? Are you feeling dizzy? Maybe I should call the doctor.” My questioning is rapid-fire, not allowing him any time to answer before I’m reaching for my phone.
“Stop. I’m fine. Just tired from all the action tonight.”
“You’re sure? You’re not lying to me to stop me from fussing, are you?”
“Would that make you stop?”
I think for a second. “No, probably not.”
Max gives me a small chuckle, then winces. “I promise I’m fine. Just tired.”
“Okay,” I give in, dragging out the word. Then, he disappears around the corner.
Standing in the hallway like an idiot, I glance around, trying to figure out which way the kitchen is. It takes me an embarrassingly long time to find it, but damn, it’s a nice space. State-of-the-art everything with marble countertops. I run my hand along the cool surface and circle the space.
I stop dead in my tracks.
“No way.”
There’s an entire wall of the kitchen that’s floor-to-ceiling windows. Through the glass, LED lights twinkle in his backyard and show the gently falling snow. Yet it’s the choppy water in the distance that has me frozen in place. It’s one of the prettiest views I’ve ever seen.
And this is in the dark. I can’t imagine the impact this view would have on me in the light of day.
I must stand there for a full five minutes before I remember what I was doing. Spinning on my socked foot, I head for the fridge. There are two types of water sorted on the shelves, and I have to roll my eyes at that. It’s water. Who cares about the brand?
With one bottle under my arm, I start opening cabinets, hoping to find a bottle of Tylenol or another pain reliever. I open every cabinet and drawer but find nothing. Annoyed at not finding what I want, I head back to the fridge but this time open the freezer.
If I can’t get him a pain reliever right away, then this compress on his neck will help with some of the discomfort.
With a hurried step, I head out of the kitchen and follow the hallway Max disappeared down. That leads me absolutely nowhere but to utter confusion. He either went upstairs or down two of these hallways.
“Max?” I call out, hoping he can hear me and give me some indication of where he is in this massive house. My instinct is to go upstairs, but I’m second-guessing myself because of his state of exhaustion. Could he have gone down one of these hallways and crashed on a couch? Are there bedrooms down here?
“For crying out loud,” I chastise myself. I’m being ridiculous.
Stomping up the stairs, I then begin my door-to-door search for Max’s bedroom. I finally find him at the end of the hall in the largest room I’ve seen.
He’s changed out of his training clothes and put on a loose sweatshirt and pants. Not even leisure clothes can hide the wide breadth of his shoulders and the power in his arms. The dark heather-grey colour really brings out his blue eyes…and the heavy bags beneath them.
“Here’s your water, and I brought you an ice pack to put on your neck. Whenever I have a bad headache, I always find that helps.” I pass over both items. Wringing my hands, I’m at a loss for what to do next. “Umm, do you have a medicine cabinet or something where I could find pain relievers? Or should I get some delivered?”
“I think I have some in the bathroom.” He points across the room. “In the…no. Under the sink.”
At this point, I didn’t think anything else in this house would stun me, but I’m wrong. As soon as I see the huge Jacuzzi tub he has, I stop what I’m doing and stare at it dreamily.
“Did you find it?” Max calls, probably because I’m taking too long. I spring back into action, jumping toward the vanity. Luckily, I find the bottle I’m looking for right away.
“Here we go,” I say breathlessly, striding back into the room. Uncapping the bottle, I pour out two pills and hand them to him. Max swallows them easily, then sinks down further into his sheets.
“Sorry, babe, I’m going to pass out in a second. Make yourself at home. There’s lots of…stuff…in the fridge…” His eyes flutter closed, and his breathing evens out.
I bite my lip, trying to stop the laugh that’s building in my chest. Max looks adorable, sound asleep, cuddled up tight in his designer sheets. At least, that’s what I’m assuming they are.
Glancing at my watch, I set the alarm for three hours from now. The doctor advised I only do this once, and if he woke up easily and knew where he was and what happened, I didn’t need to do it again. That was new information to me, but I was going to follow it to the letter.
I don’t have an appetite, but my body is still buzzing with energy. Needing to do something until the adrenaline wears off, I decide to walk around the house and do a little snooping. I’m not expecting to find much, but the intrigue is there.
His office is the room that holds my attention for the longest. The entire space must have been decorated solely by Max. Pictures of all frame shapes and sizes hang on the wall, telling the story of his life, from the first day he put on a pair of skates to last year’s Team Canada picture after winning gold.
I reach my hand out tentatively to touch a light blue frame that holds an image I haven’t seen in years. It’s Max and me in his parents’ backyard. We’re teenagers, laughing so hard at something that our eyes are closed with huge smiles on our faces. Max’s arm is around me, and his head is angled toward me.
There are more pictures of us. Some of us together, some with family and other friends. But the one constant is that Max is always beside me, always looking in my direction.
A warmth in my chest grows and begins to spread, and my eyes water as memories flood back to me.
How had I missed this? All those years of friendly rivalry. The quiet moments and the monumental. He was always there. Pushing me, prodding me, making me mad, yet always supporting me.
My breath hitches as I finally let myself admit the truth.
Max Daws isn’t my friend.
He’s my best friend. The man who drives me crazy in all the right ways.
And the one I want to be with.
I think I’ve always had a crush on him. As an angsty teenager with a hot neighbour, how could I’ve not have liked him back then? The feeling may have ebbed and flowed over the course of the last decade, but it never went away. Max Daws would always be my first crush.
My first love.
And maybe, if I was brave enough, he could be my last too.
I spend a few more minutes in his office before tiptoeing out. The revelation of my feelings has exhausted me, and sleep is calling my name. Walking across the hall, I peer inside to find an empty room.
The next room in the hallway is the same. So is the last room.
Why the hell doesn’t he have any beds up here?
Dragging my hands down my face, I try to figure out my best option. I could sleep on the sofa, but I never get a good night’s sleep if I can’t sleep on my tummy. Plus, being alone downstairs would have me aware of every sound that the house makes.
Heading back in the direction of Max’s room, I open the door to find him still peacefully sleeping. His bed is big enough—it has to be a California king—and it’s not like we haven’t shared a bed successfully as two adults.
Fuck it, I’m just going to do it.
Quietly walking into the room, I head for the bathroom so I can wash my face before calling it a night. As I’m passing the end of the bed, I notice a stack of clothing. Reaching out to move it, I realize that Max has left these out on purpose.
For me? So that I would have something comfortable to sleep in?
Shit, how many seemingly small but giant gestures like this have I missed from Max? In every way he can, he’s taking care of me. Even when he’s the one that needs to be taken care of.
Clutching the clothes to my chest, I head into the bathroom. Once done, I crawl into bed with Max. He must feel the movement of me getting comfortable in his sleep because he reaches out to me.
Not thinking about my next move, I lean over him and kiss his cheek. Then I cuddle down closer to him and fall asleep surrounded by warmth.
And what feels a lot like love.