Chapter 16
Chapter Sixteen
Halsey
I pace back and forth in my office, phone pressed tightly to my ear. The morning rush of the clinic hums around me, but it feels distant—like I’m disconnected from the noise, from reality itself. My thoughts are racing: Santos, Dustin, everything that happened last night.
There’s too much uncertainty swirling in my mind, and I need something solid, something to ground me. I need to hear from someone who knows Santos’s condition better than anyone else.
The phone rings once, twice, then clicks.
“Isn’t this a little too early for a mentor call?” Hayes Aldridge’s familiar voice greets me, groggy but warm.
“You’re an early riser,” I counter, my lips twitching with the faintest hint of a smile. Even now, when there’s too much happening in my head and my heart, he always manages to put me a little at ease.
“Ugh, right,” he groans. “I forgot you stayed a few times at the house, helping with the farm animals. I’ll never figure out how Layla and Pierce convince my students to pitch in.”
“Alli,” I remind him, unable to suppress a soft laugh. “That girl’s impossible to resist. Who wouldn’t want to hang out with an alpaca at five in the morning?”
He chuckles, but the lightness in his voice quickly shifts. “So, what can I do for you? You need a job? Because I could use a surgeon down in Portland. Actually, we just had an Achilles rupture that you would’ve—”
“Santos Calderón-Bélanger,” I interrupt, cutting straight to the point, my voice tighter than I want it to be. “That’s why I’m calling.”
There’s a brief pause on the other end of the line. “You’re familiar with the case?”
It’s not really a question. He knows I am. “More than I’d like to admit. I just hung up with Santos,” I respond, my voice quieter now.
The tension in my chest is building, my thoughts swirling with every possibility, every potential roadblock Santos might face.
“He’s concerned about his recovery. There’s a rumor that the team is releasing him to his father’s care.
Which shouldn’t be happening. After he told me you were his surgeon, I offered to call you, to figure out how we can get him back on track.
I need to know what you think, Hayes. About his chances. How bad is it?”
I’m impressed that I could come up with something so tangible in such a short time. I just hope he believes me and discloses as much information as possible.
Hayes sighs on the other end, the sound heavy.
I can almost picture him rubbing his temples, the same way he always did when faced with a complicated case.
“It’s not good, Halsey,” he finally says, his voice steady but serious.
“The injury was severe. As you know, he tore his Achilles clean through. We did the surgery, but recovery is going to be tough. The physical therapy alone will take months, maybe longer.”
My heart sinks at his words, but I force myself to stay composed. “Is there a chance?” I ask, my throat tightening. “A real chance he can get back on the ice?”
There’s a long pause on the other end, the kind that fills the space with doubt, like Hayes is trying to find the right way to say something I don’t want to hear.
When he finally speaks, his tone is cautious, measured, but it lacks hope.
“There’s always a chance,” he says, but I can hear the hesitation.
“But it’s slim—especially with all this confusion about his care.
I couldn’t get the full story. My brother and I should be at the hospital doing rounds around nine.
This isn’t the end, but Santos can’t risk his recovery with just anyone. ”
He’s not going into any details, just telling me what’s public knowledge. I’m not surprised, but maybe I can work around the confidentiality piece to dig a little more. The thing is that I have to know more so I can figure out a way to help him, to be present.
Hockey isn’t just a sport for Santos—it’s his life. It’s what keeps him grounded, what gives him purpose. Without it, I’m afraid of what will be left of him. And the worst part is, I know exactly how that fear feels. The fear of losing something that defines you.
“But if he stays on track, listening to your instructions . . . ?” I don’t know how to finish the question though. “Will he recover?”
Hayes sighs again, softer this time, more understanding. “You know how these athletes are, Halsey. They don’t deal with these things well. They don’t listen. And with his father and agent running the show, I’m worried . . .”
“That they’re going to fuck it up,” I finish for him, my frustration rising.
“Exactly. Him having you involved gives me hope that he’s taking this seriously,” Hayes continues.
“But it’s clear his father is pushing his own agenda like it’s the solution to everything, even when it’s not necessary.
I understand that this is his whole identity on the line.
But the priority should be physical rehab right now, and we can provide that.
He can have a virtual therapist to do the work while he’s resting his leg. ”
I take a deep breath, steadying my voice.
“This is what I know, his father isn’t looking out for him.
There’s so much going on behind the scenes that’s not in Santos’s best interest. He’s even planning to fire his agent.
I’ve got to make some arrangements here, quit, and .
. . probably do some research. I won’t be there until tomorrow.
But Santos is willing to fight—he wants to recover, and he’ll stick to whatever plan you create. His father has no say in it.”
Hayes hums thoughtfully on the other end. “That’s good to hear. But I’ve heard whispers about his image, something about his agent being concerned. Do you know what’s going on there?”
I hesitate, not wanting to dig into the mess that’s become Santos’s personal life.
But Hayes needs to know. The owner of the Orcas team is his brother after all.
“There’s a picture of him and his partner making the rounds online.
His father’s losing it—he doesn’t approve of the man he loves, and Santos isn’t out publicly, so it’s . . . complicated.”
Hayes sighs heavily. “Got it. Since you mention he might fire his agent, I’ll talk to the team and see if they can help him with anything he needs.”
“Thank you. And one more thing—if you can make sure his father stays out of his room, I’d really appreciate it.”
There’s a pause, and then Hayes asks the question I’ve been avoiding, his voice gentle but pointed. “What is he to you, Halsey?”
For a moment, I’m back in Blissful Meadows, staring at the boy who used to be my whole world. Santos was my everything back then. But now? Now I don’t know what to say. The words seem stuck in my throat, tangled in the mess of the past and the uncertainty of the present.
“I’m going to help him,” I say, more to myself than to Hayes. My voice wavers, but I push through. “Not as his doctor, but as his . . . I’m going to help him.”
“Good. I’ll handle the medical side, but the rest?
That’s going to take more than surgery and rehab.
” Hayes speaks again, his voice softer, almost fatherly.
“He needs people who love him. I’m happy to hear he has you as part of his support system.
And if you ever need a job, you’ve got one with me. ”
I nod, even though he can’t see me. “Thank you, Hayes. For everything.”
“Anytime. We’ll have a position for you within the clinic or the hospital,” he says, his voice warm, reassuring. “And Halsey? Don’t burn yourself out trying to save everyone. You matter too.”
I close my eyes, the knot in my throat tightening again, but I manage to respond. “I’ll keep that in mind,” I say, even though deep down, I know that’s easier said than done.
As the call ends, the noise of the clinic fades back in, but I’m still standing there, lost in the chaos of everything that’s coming. Santos. Dustin. The past we never really escaped.
I look down at my phone, my fingers hovering over the screen as I type a message to Dustin.
Halsey: I talked to Hayes. Santos is . . . okay, as long as he sticks with the program and we keep him away from his father. We’ll figure this out. I’m going to Portland.
Dustin: Who is Hayes? Why are you going to Portland? Why didn’t you wake me up before you left?
Halsey: San is in Portland. I spoke to his surgeon—Hayes. Santos needs us and I’m almost sure they’re going to take him to Baker’s Creek for rehabilitation.
Dustin: You’ll work with him.
Halsey: Not the way you wanted me to, but I might get a job close to him. We have to be with him for moral support.
Dustin: When do you want to leave?
Halsey: I’m looking at the flights for tomorrow. Maybe at noon. I have to quit and probably pack some stuff . . . it’s going to be a long day.
Dustin: How long does it take you to quit?
Halsey: Not long, I’m preparing my letter of resignation. I’ll hand it over and pack the few things I have in my desk. I should be at my apartment within an hour or so.
Dustin: Okay, the plane will be ready in two. Gavin will have people coming over tomorrow to pack your stuff and move it. What else do you need?
Halsey: What are you talking about?
Dustin: We have people to make things happen faster. I don’t want to waste your time or mine packing. Let’s be with our guy today.
Halsey: Okay then, I’ll be there soonish.