Chapter Forty-One Jeremy
The nurse strides in, her bright smile firmly in place. “You’re all set,” she chirps. “Ready to get out of here?” She’s friendly, maybe a little flirty, as she grazes my leg from the foot of the hospital bed.
“Yeah,” I grumble, sitting up and swinging my legs over the side.
“If you need anything,” she adds coyly, “let me know. I’m here until seven.”
I nod but don’t engage. The last thing I want is small talk or unnecessary fussing.
Blake is leaning against the wall, not bothering to hide his amusement. As soon as the nurse leaves, he mutters, “Dude, you couldn’t have shut her down harder if you’d tried.”
I glare at him. “Did you get Vanya’s number yet?” I hadn’t bothered memorizing Vanya’s number because, honestly, who does that anymore?
He shrugs. “Sabrina’s got it locked down tighter than a bank vault. She said she’ll pass along my number. Vanya will call if she feels like it.”
“If she feels like it,” I mutter, running a hand through my hair. Sabrina is practically a human firewall.
Blake claps me on the shoulder. “Relax, man. She’ll call you eventually.”
He wasn’t around when Vanya stormed out. Maybe she’s already raising hell about my diagnosis. Of course she’s avoiding me. She’s busy ruining my career, after all.
The sting of her words returns. I’ll fight for you. Against Kyle. Against the Mavericks. Against the damn league.
Stubborn, beautiful woman. I’m mad at her for talking about me like I don’t know my own body, but I’m even madder at myself for accusing her of something so vile as using me for her career. It’s more complicated than that. If only we could talk one more time before she raises hell, I’m sure we can sort things out.
Kyle walks in. I brace myself for a second round of disagreements. Instead, he smiles.
“Ready to get out of here?”
“More than ready,” I reply.
He flips through his notes. “We’ve done the imaging, and there’s no structural damage that we can see. Take it easy for the next week. No heroics. You can start skating lightly during practice sessions, but I don’t want you pushing till at least another week.”
“OK,” I say slowly. “Did you, um, did you talk to Vanya?”
Kyle eyes me for a second, his expression carefully neutral. “Not since I told her you’re here. She came by, right?”
I stiffen. “Yeah, she came around.”
“And?”
“She’s overcautious, if you know what I mean.” I’m not about to tell him that Vanya stormed out of here furious.
“She’s been incredibly worried. I mean, she got here even before I did.”
“Vanya doesn’t get it, Kyle. The demands of hockey, she’s too cautious. It’s getting in my head and I—”
“Say no more. If it isn’t working out, we can take her off your case.”
I consider his words and wonder if that would be for the best. “Maybe for a little while.”
“I’ll talk to her today,” Kyle assures me.
Do I want to think about Vanya chewing off Kyle’s head during that conversation? No. No, I do not.
“Thanks, Kyle.”
“You got it. So, I’ve called Christina. Your mom would have my head if I didn’t update her. Are the guys bringing your phone back?”
“They’re coming in tonight,” Blake says.
“Your mother wants to hear from you as soon as you’re out of here,” Kyle warns.
“He can use my phone,” Blake offers.
Once Kyle leaves and I’m discharged, Blake tosses me his phone.
“Here. Call your mom. She’ll hound me if I don’t make you check in. I don’t want to get on her bad side.”
My mother’s cell is the only number I’ve memorized in my entire life. She picks up on the second ring.
“?Mijo!” she says, relief flooding her voice. “You’re OK?”
“I’m fine. Out of the hospital and heading home now.”
“What did the doctor say?”
“Take it easy for a week, light skating, nothing serious,” I say, keeping it short.
“And Vanya? What does she think?”
I pause, pressing my thumb to my temple. “She’s… thorough.”
“Thorough?” my mom repeats, her tone heavy with skepticism. “That woman is brilliant. If she tells you something, you listen. She knows what she’s doing.”
“I listen,” I state defensively.
“You think you can handle everything on your own, but you can’t, Jeremy,” she scolds. “Sometimes you need to trust people who care about you. Is that so hard?”
I close my eyes, guilt twisting in my gut. “It’s not that.”
“What? What aren’t you telling me?” she prompts gently.
“I don’t want to screw things up,” I admit, although the sentence could mean a million things.
Screw up my career? My time with Vanya? My one chance at the championship? My body? All of the above?
She pauses, and when she speaks again, it’s gentler. “You won’t screw anything up, Jeremy. You know why? You’re already an incredible man just as you are. There’s no circumstance that will screw up how generous and kind you are. Can you remember that, son?”
“I’ll try,” I say, though I’m not sure I believe it.
“Good,” she says firmly. “And don’t you dare push yourself too hard. Promise me.”
“Promise,” I reply.
I hand back his phone. “She’s worried about you?” Blake asks.
“All mothers are worried about their kids,” I say automatically.
But then I remember Vanya after her mother’s visit. How much she shook in my arms and trusted me not to let go. She talked about the impossibly painful decision to sever ties with her mother. As horrible as it was to watch the woman I love fall apart, it felt good to be the one to hold her, comfort her, help her.
She thinks she’s helping me, but she’s wrong. I’ve received the best medical care in the world and all the help money can buy. What Vanya is offering isn’t medical care or assistance. It’s an ultimatum that I couldn’t accept.
Damn it, I wish I could talk to her right now. Once I’m free of Blake’s babysitting duties, I’ll head to Vanya’s place across the street.
Back at home, Blake isn’t so easy to shoo away. He lets himself in and starts looking into my pantry.
“Tell me you’ve got more than protein shakes in here. There wasn’t shit to eat at the hospital.”
My stomach grumbles at the mention of food. “I’ve got some leftover chili I can heat up for us.”
I barely have time to turn on my stove before the door flies open. Randi, Sean, and Gordon pile in like a chaotic tornado, arms loaded with fast-food bags, drinks, and an unmistakable sense of entitlement. Sean holds up my cell phone before tossing it to me.
“Straight from the airport!” Randi announces, flopping into one of the dining room chairs like he owns the place, ripping into a bag with zero hesitation. “Barely time for this pit stop, man. We’re starving.”
“You’re always starving,” Sean mutters, swiping a fry from Randi’s bag before grabbing his own.
“Wait, who got the double bacon cheeseburger?” Gordon calls out, holding up a grease-stained wrapper.
“Me,” Randi says, snatching it with the reflexes of someone who’s fought for food before. “This is better than you and your sad little chicken sandwich.”
“Hey, I’m keeping it clean,” Sean replies, holding up his sandwich like it’s a trophy. “Athlete’s diet.”
“Clean? There’s enough mayo on that thing to drown a toddler,” Randi says, gesturing with a fry.
Amid the laughter and the noise, I lean against the counter, shaking my head. It’s chaos, pure and simple, but the kind that reminds me that my team is family.
“Got an extra burger for me?” Blake asks timidly. Randi throws him a fry before pulling out another burger.
“Hey, what about Jeremy’s sad chicken sandwich?” Sean finally says, turning to me with a raised brow.
“It’s under that pile of ketchup packets,” Randi says, stuffing the last of his burger in his face while strolling into my kitchen. “Ooh, wait, real food. Is this chili?” His face is deep in my fridge.
“Touch my leftovers, and you’re dead,” I warn, but there’s no heat in it.
“Relax, chef,” Gordon says with a grin. “We brought enough for Randi’s third serving. We’ll even share, if you ask nicely. You should be thanking us.”
“For what? Turning my place into a drive-thru? At least when I feed you it’s homemade.”
“Then for keeping you company,” Sean says with mock seriousness, raising his sandwich like a wine glass. “Missed you out there, man.”
This is what I needed tonight. A reminder that these guys are here for me. The pressure on my chest eases a little.
But there’s still an unshakable weight on my conscience. Having my friends cheer me up clears the headspace I need to text her.
Me: I’m sorry about today. I would beg to come over right now but the guys are checking in on me. Can I come over later tonight?
Vanya doesn’t text me back. I try to distract myself by heating up my chili for the men with bottomless stomachs. An hour later, she still hasn’t answered.
I have the code to her garage from the last few months that I’ve let myself in after hockey games. The sensation of slipping into her warm bed in the middle of the night, her sleepy moan as she snuggles against me, nearly makes me choke with longing. I stare at my phone screen, willing her to text me back.
“There he is, texting the mystery Jazz Hands lady,” Randi snickers. “Hey Blake, did Jeremy have any lady visitors while you were babysitting him in the hospital?”
My grip stiffens around my phone.
“Just the doctors,” Blake answers with a shrug.
I rinse the plates that piled up so I can look away from their inquiring faces.
Just the doctors.
Just the love of my life.