Chapter Twenty-Eight
FINN
WEEKS LATER, BEFORE CHRISTMAS brEAK
My boyfriend’s back in forty-eight hours and and I’m counting down every minute.
We’ve only got one night together, then I’ll be heading home to Nebraska and Sel’s off to California.
I’m bummed that we can’t spend the holiday together, but we’re both anxious to visit family and we still have New Year’s.
Sel’s exhausted from work and travel, and I’m still being careful with my shoulder, even after a lot of physiotherapy.
It doesn’t matter. When I get to hold him, even if it’s only for a few hours, I’ll be happy.
The Rush had a long road trip, splitting their wins and losses fifty-fifty.
It’s not the result we were hoping for. Tensions are high on the team, and it shows.
I’ve analyzed every game, and while Sel’s playing has kicked up another notch, Brady looks like he’s tuned out, leaving Sorensen without protection.
Our good-natured goalie lost his temper with Brady in the last game, and when a player of his caliber gets pissed at one of their own, you know it’s bad.
All this hasn’t gone unnoticed by the fans or the media, and given what Sel told me about his confrontation with Brady the night after my injury, it’s not surprising either.
I’m worried Brady’s going to undermine Sel, or worse, physically confront him.
My boyfriend reassures me that he’s handling the situation and there’s nothing to worry about.
Speaking of “situation,” my recovery didn’t go as fast as I thought it would.
Athletes aren’t exactly the patient type.
That first week, before Sel left, the pain in my shoulder got worse before it got better, which made me question whether I’d be back on the ice when I hoped.
When Sel wasn’t playing or practicing, he was there to join me at physio, and when I felt down, to reassure me that with time it would get better.
The day he headed out on the road, however, I moved back upstairs.
I didn’t want to, but after a week of our teammates dropping by his place, I couldn’t spin the repair story any longer.
So, with Sel’s help, I packed up my stuff, including the last remaining tulip he’d given me. Yeah, it turns out this hockey player is into romantic gestures like flowers, especially when Sel told me what they represent.
True love, passion, and devotion.
I didn’t know I was capable of swooning—have I ever used that word?—but fuck, did I swoon. And that wasn’t the only time. I remember the day he left…
I walked Sel to the door, and he dropped his bags and turned around, reaching into his jacket pocket.
“I want you to have my spare key.” Sel placed the fob in my palm and closed my fingers over it, pulling my hand to his lips and kissing it. “Come here anytime you want, sweetheart.”
I could hardly breathe. “What are you doing to me?”
“What?”
“First the flowers, now a key to your home?” I sighed. “You’re being all kinds of romantic and shit—”
“And shit?” he chuckled.
“You know what I mean. No one’s ever—” I paused. “I’m still wrapping my head around the fact that you’re my boyfriend, and now this. I don’t even know how to process it.”
“Too much?”
“No.” I shook my head. “I more than like the romance—”
“What about the shit?” he teased.
I unwrap my fist and give him a romantic finger. Well, it’s romantic to us.
“Summer seems like a lifetime ago,” I explained. “I never thought we’d end up like this, and now you’re leaving. It’s going to be a long couple of weeks without you.”
“The longest.”
I leaned in, our foreheads touching.
“Thank you for trusting me,” I whispered. “I’ll give you my spare when you’re back.”
“You don’t need to feel obligated to—”
“Shut up and kiss me goodbye, Wolfie,” I quipped and stepped closer. “You’re running late and you’re going to miss your ride to the airport.”
Never mind the ride, he almost missed his flight…
The kiss was totally worth it.
Knowing that I’ll be able to claim those lips soon? I end up using Sel’s key sooner rather than later, entering his place to drop off Christmas gifts and waiting for the delivery of a fully lit tree, which is due to arrive any minute. At least we’ll have one night together to celebrate.
My phone rings, and I expect it be the delivery person, but it’s not.
It’s my dad.
“Hey,” I answer. “I promise I’ll wear the sling on the plane just in case. And yes, I’ve started packing for my flight, but it isn’t for another two days, so—”
“Son,” he interrupts, his voice barely a whisper. “I think you need to come home as soon as you can.”
My hearts sinks.
“What’s happened? Mom?”
“Yes.” Dad’s breath hitches. “She started running a fever yesterday, so I took her to the closest hospital. She’d been having bladder irritation for days, which we were told was common with radiation, but it turned into an infection.
While we were there, I called her oncologist, and she said to take your mom back to Omaha General, so I did.
The doctors here told me an hour ago that it’s spread to her kidneys.
She’s been admitted. She’s conscious and alert, but given her immune system, there’s a chance the infection could spread to her blood—”
No, no, no.
This can’t be happening. She was getting better. The worst had passed. That’s what the doctors said. The worst had passed.
“I’m booking a flight today, the earliest I can get,” I state, my vision blurry. “I’ll text you when I land, alright?”
“We’ll be waiting.”
“See you soon.”
My phone buzzes but my hands shake so bad I can hardly answer it.
Fuck, now it’s the Christmas tree delivery.
I jog over to the door, and when the courier brings it inside, I tell him to place it in the corner.
Given my state of distress, I forget to offer him a tip, but there’s no time to worry about it.
I’m so panicked that for a moment I don’t realize I’m in Sel’s unit and not my own.
Without pause, I send an email to Coach, Hugo, and my physio team about the situation.
I head back upstairs to my place, finish throwing whatever I need in my bag, and start searching for flights to Omaha.
Thankfully, I find a seat on a flight that leaves in two hours.
Then I’m off, throwing on my warmest coat and grabbing a rideshare to the airport.
Once I go through security, I head for the boarding area with twenty minutes to spare.
I can’t sit so I pace. Each minute feels like an hour.
I’ve never wanted to fly so freaking bad in my life.
Looking at the time, I call Sel. It’s game day, so I assume it’ll go to voicemail.
“Hey,” he answers. “I’m heading out for a bite before the game, can I call you later?”
“No,” I whisper as the tears finally unleash and trickle down my face. “I’ll be on the plane by then.”
“Plane? What’s going on?”
“My mom,” I manage to croak out. “She’s in the hospital. An infection in her bladder and kidneys, and the doctors are concerned, given her low immunity, that it might spread. Fuck, what if… what if—”
I cover my mouth to contain a sob. Strangers are staring at me, but I don’t give a crap.
“I’m so sorry, sweetheart. What can I do?”
“I… I d-don’t know,” I stutter as my breath hitches. “Just t-talk to me.”
“I wish I was there with you. To hold your hand, to hold you.”
His words make my chest draw in tighter.
“Same. But that’s not helping.”
“I don’t know your mom,” Sel replies. “But if she’s as stubborn and determined as you, she’s a fighter.”
I make a choking sound, somewhere between a laugh and a sob.
“She is.”
“I want to put something out there, but you don’t have to answer now. Once I’m done with our last game in Minnesota, I can make a stopover in Omaha if you need me. Before I head on to California. The only reason I was going back to New York was to see you.”
“Baby,” I whisper. “You’d do that?”
“Only if you’re comfortable. Take your time and think about it.”
Suddenly, my flight number’s called out on the loudspeaker.
“I gotta board. I’ll text you when I get to the hospital and I know more.”
“Safe travels. I love you.”
My throat starts to close over but I manage to find the words.
“I love you too.”
Ending the call, I grab my carry-on and line up to board, but I’m fidgeting so hard and with my tear-stained face, the guy at the check-in counter asks if I’m okay.
“Family emergency back home.”
He nods in sympathy. “I’m sorry. Is there anything we can get you?”
“A faster airplane?”
He gives a shrug. “Unfortunately, all I can do is confirm that it’s good weather today, so you should arrive on time or early.”
“Early would be more than welcome.”
That’s the last thing I remember before stepping onto the plane.
The actual flight is a blur. I know there’s turbulence, but I’m so numb it hardly registers.
Not the shaking of the plane, not who’s sitting beside me, or how much time passes.
I can’t watch a movie or eat or do anything but close my eyes and clutch the armrests.
The only time I pay attention to what’s going on is when the pilot makes the announcement that we’re landing shortly.
I glance at my phone and realize three hours have gone by.
We made good time. The shock is starting to wear off, though, and so is my patience.
When the wheels touch the tarmac, I become that annoying passenger who stands up before the seatbelt sign is off, grabbing my stuff and racing down the aisle.
The sling on my left arm helps, because most people are seated and the ones who aren’t give me a wide berth.
Well, the sling and my size. I’m not the biggest hockey player, but I feel like a giant on this plane.
The rideshare takes half an hour to get to the downtown hospital. I text my dad as soon as I step inside the building.
Finn: Arrived, what room number?
Dad: H wing, 527. Will’s here now. Everyone else has already dropped by before taking shifts back home.