Chapter Thirty-Nine Jeremy
I’m floating in a fog. My head’s heavy, my limbs stiff, and everything feels like it’s happening beyond my reach. The drugs are working, too well maybe, so everything is in slow motion.
Thoughts come in fragments of flashing memories and hazy gaps. I remember the chaos in Vancouver, and the overwhelming pain when my body refused to get off the ice. Everything after that is a mishmash of too many lights, too many faces, too many questions. The pain was unbearable at first, but then the meds kicked in. I’ve had tests, consultations, and a flight. For most of it, the painkillers have kept me numb.
The door opens. I know it’s Vanya before she even says anything. Her familiar aroma and my desperate need to be with her cuts through the fog. I force my eyes open because the woman I love is here.
Vanya’s eyebrows are drawn tight yet she’s gorgeous as always. I hate that she’s worried. I shore up the energy to clear my head and find the words.
“You’re a sight for sore eyes,” I manage to mumble.
“Why didn’t you call me? Why did I have to hear about this from Kyle? Why is Blake the one watching over you?” She sounds like she’s choking.
Blake has been stuck to me, like gum to a shoe, since I left Vancouver. I wanted Vanya from the moment I was wheeled off the ice, but even under the haze of hurt, I didn’t cry out her name like a desperate lover. She wouldn’t have wanted that.
“My phone is somewhere in the locker room, I think,” I say with a shake of my head, clearing the cobwebs inside. “Come closer so I can apologize properly.”
Vanya shuts the door behind her. She’s attempting to compose herself, but something else is percolating beyond her placid expression. Unfortunately, I’m incapable of analyzing anything. All I know is that Vanya is here, and I want her closer.
She crosses the room. I reach out. She holds my hand.
“I sent Blake to go for a walk so we can have some privacy. I’ve canceled my patients for the day. I can be here when they run more tests.”
Touching her makes one thing perfectly clear. There isn’t a drug in the world that’s going to make me feel better than holding Vanya. I pat the sliver of bed beside me.
“Hop on the bed, doc, to see if we fit. That’s the only test I care about.”
My attempt to wiggle my brows suggestively is met with a snort.
“Kyle said something about this being diagnosed as a bruise or strain,” she says. “We all know that’s bullshit.”
I squeeze her hand to reassure her. “It was a bad night. I always bounce back. I’ll take a break, obviously, but I’m cleared to skate next week.”
“What idiot would clear you to get on the ice?” Her voice, harsh with disbelief, makes me wince.
“They said I’ll be fine,” I explain, trying to keep my tone light. “I’ll be good to go after some rest.”
She doesn’t buy it and, deep down, I didn’t expect her to.
“Good to go?” She leans forward, her movements quick, jerky. Her grip tightens, broadcasting her irritation. “Jeremy, you shouldn’t even be thinking about the ice right now, let alone playing.”
I feel the harshness of her words. The bite of them. Old arguments resurface but instead of brushing them away with a comforting kiss, I let myself marinate in resentment. We’re back to her harping about vulnerabilities. My weaknesses. Under the haze of drugs, I don’t have the energy to smooth over this constant disagreement.
“Hockey isn’t just my livelihood, it’s who I am. Without it, I’m just a jackass in pain all the time.”
She rolls her eyes, clearly not impressed. “You’re already a jackass,” she mutters.
I smile to acknowledge her comeback. Vanya’s face softens a little, though the exasperation swirling in her eyes remains.
“It’s hard to explain,” I continue, desperate for her to get it. “Even when it hurts, being on the ice makes me feel like there’s a reason for why I’m built this way. I’m not comfortable , but I’m whole .”
She sighs wearily. “It doesn’t have to be this way, Jeremy. Please listen to me.” Her voice shakes, but not from uncertainty. I watch determination flood her features before she speaks.
“Your season is over,” she declares.
If I wasn’t already on a bed, the finality of her words would have laid me on my ass like a shot.
“It’s ov—”
“Damn it, Vanya, stop .” My voice is severe, cutting through her repetition of unsolicited advice. I don’t want to hear it. There’s no room for Vanya’s doubts now. Not when I’m so close to something I’ve wanted from the moment I decided to be a goaltender.
She throws up her hands, exasperated. “Just because every doctor is afraid of pissing you off doesn’t mean I am!”
I stare at her, words hanging in the air like a threat. She’s going to fight me. I’m so tired of this, of feeling like I’m being torn between what I want and what she wants. She needs to see things from my point of view.
This isn’t the first time someone has told me to stop playing. If I listened to every naysayer from the last fifteen years, I wouldn’t be where I am. Now, more than ever, it’s crucial to keep going.
I’ll rest for a week at most. Not a day longer. The Mavericks are heading to the championship this year with me between the goal posts. I fucking know it.
My thumb caresses the top of her hand. Vanya leans down to kiss where our fingers interlock. The gesture melts my defensiveness. She cares about me. This is her protective instinct kicking in. I respect her opinion, but that doesn’t mean I agree with it. The woman I love needs to understand, so I try another approach.
“The way I feel about hockey is the way I feel about you. Making me want to be better, to be more. C’mon, Vanya, you know I’ve been here before. It’s always been fine in the end.”
She leans closer, pleading, but I can see the walls coming up around her. “Jeremy, I’m begging you.” Her voice cracks on the last word.
I shake my head. “You’re begging me to give up the season, even when Kyle and the trainers believe I can keep going.”
“Kyle and the Mavericks’ priority is the hockey team, not you.”
“I am the hockey team and the hockey team is me .” My voice is louder now. “You’re asking me to let my family down.”
Her eyes blink rapidly. A tear escapes. It breaks me a little to see her misery, but I can’t back down. For the first time since yesterday, I’m wide awake. The thought of giving up the season floods me with adrenaline that burns through the pain medication.
“You don’t understand,” I mutter, mostly to myself. I try to calm the storm that’s swirling inside me. “I need this. Please support me, Vanya.”
I open my arms, hoping she’ll let me hold her. She shakes her head and stands, breaking our contact. Her face is flushed, her lips pressed into a tight line, and it’s killing me to see her like this. To see us like this. But I can’t stop the words from tumbling out, sharp and bitter.
“What the hell do you want me to do? Give up? We’re heading into the best playoffs of my career and you’re asking me to throw it all away!”
Her eyes widen, her expression a mix of shock and something that looks a hell of a lot like betrayal. “I’m asking you to live! ” she exclaims, her voice trembling. “Not just for hockey, but for everything you can have beyond your career. Please, Jeremy, I’m begging you to listen for once.”
She stretches her hand to me again, like she wants to bridge the distance. This time, I refuse the gesture. Waves of bitterness drown logic. It’s one thing for her to control every aspect of our affair, another to override decisions about my career.
“That’s rich,” I snap, the words unsavory in my mouth. “Coming from someone who would never compromise her career. Someone who treats her research like it’s the only thing that matters.”
Hurt flashes across her face. It’s gone just as quickly, replaced by something harder. “This isn’t about me,” she fires back, her voice rising.
“Exactly!” The word explodes from within, raw and severe. “This is about everything I’ve fought for. You’re a fighter, too, Vanya. Would you listen to one person’s medical advice when an entire organization is backing you to return?”
“They only care about the playoffs, not you.”
“If you cared about me, you would understand.”
Her eyes glisten. For a second, I want to take it all back, to rewind to a version of this conversation that doesn’t feel like a criminal trial. But instead, she straightens up defiantly.
“You think I want to do this? You think it’s easy for me to stand here and tell you to stop?” Vanya has never sounded shrill till right now. We’re deadlocked in an impossible situation where we barely recognize each other. I rake a hand through my hair, my voice shaking with the weight of everything I’m trying to hold back.
“Hockey isn’t only my job. It’s who I am, Vanya. It’s my life. You can’t take that away from me.”
“I care about you,” she says, softer now, but it doesn’t soothe the ache building in my chest. “As a person, Jeremy. Not just as a hockey player.”
“I’m both ,” I emphasize, my voice breaking. “I’ll always be both. If you can’t see that, then you don’t know me as well as you think you do.”
Her tears come fast now, spilling down her cheeks as she shakes her head. “And maybe you don’t know me if you think I’ll stand by and let this happen. I’ll fight for you. Against Kyle. Against the Mavericks. Against the damn league. ”
“Vanya, what the hell,” I bark, my frustration making me sound cruel. “You’re acting like this is some kind of war.”
“It is! ” she snaps, stepping closer again. “I’ll fight every damn arena if they try to force you to play before you’re ready.”
“No one is forcing me to do anything. This is my choice. Hockey is what I am.”
I won’t let her take away what matters most to me. I won’t .
“You’re more than hockey,” she says, her voice breaking. “You’re more than a player.”
“You’re the woman I—” My words falter, my throat tightening. I almost said, You’re the woman I love. I’m doing this for both of us.
However, declaring the extent of my feelings right now, at the same time that I’m telling her to stay out of my life choices, seems inconsistent. I’m muddle-brained, but not an idiot.
“You’re the person who’s made me feel like I could be more,” I state instead. “Why would you threaten to take this opportunity away from me, Vanya? Under the guise of saving me, are you actually willing to destroy me?”
Her shoulders shake as she struggles through her sobs. “You can’t see it now,” she utters, “but one day you’ll thank me. As your doctor, this is my final decision.”
Something inside me snaps. “Then you’re fired.”
Her head jerks up, her red-rimmed eyes wide with disbelief. “You can’t—”
“I just did,” I say coldly, barely sounding like myself. “Maybe I should’ve done it a long time ago.”
“You can’t,” she mumbles in disbelief.
“I can. Firing you would solve all our conflict-of-interest issues.”
She opens her mouth but nothing comes out. I fill the silence with bitterness.
“But wait, there’s the big research breakthrough you’re writing, right?” I say. “The one that’s going to launch your career.”
“That has nothing to do with this.”
“It has everything to do with this. It’s the reason you can’t look me in the eye when we’re in public. It’s the reason you’re leaving when you’re done with me. It’s why I’ll never be anything more than research to you.” Something dark and rotten suffocates me. “Maybe that’s why you want to keep me off the ice. You can’t track measurable results if I keep playing.”
The silence that follows is deafening, pressing down on both of us. I see the way her face crumples, the way her hands tremble, the way she stops breathing. When she runs out of the room, regret rips my heart out of my chest. There’s no medicine for this kind of pain.