Chapter Eleven #3
He guided my free hand onto the dressing.
"Don't let up."
My world narrowed to that single instruction.
Everything beyond Mason disappeared.
Voices blended into meaningless noise. Someone called for additional equipment.
Someone else spoke into a radio. The officials stood well back while the crowd remained eerily silent, the only sounds inside the arena came from hurried footsteps and the practiced communication of the medical team working around us.
I never released Mason's hand.
After what felt both like seconds and an eternity, the stretcher arrived.
The physicians secured Mason carefully before lifting him onto it, one trainer maintaining pressure over the dressing as another continued monitoring him.
I stayed beside him until the last possible second, my hand remaining wrapped around his even as they began moving toward the tunnel.
One of the physicians looked back at me.
"Come with us."
Dad caught my eye and gave a quick nod of encouragement. I didn't hesitate to follow.
The ambulance doors closed behind us, shutting out the arena, the game, and everything else. As the siren rose into the evening, I sat beside Mason holding his hand, praying the next time my fingers closed around his, he'd be awake.
***
The waiting room outside the surgical suite seemed to exist in a world where time refused to behave normally. Minutes stretched into what felt like hours.
Nurses moved through the department with the calm efficiency I'd admired since beginning my clinical rotations there.
Several offered me encouraging smiles as they passed, each recognizing me not only as one of the fourth-year medical students completing clinical rotations at the hospital but as the young man who'd arrived beside the injured hockey player from Evergreen.
Families occupied chairs around me, each carrying fears of their own. Nobody spoke very much. They didn't need to. Hope looked remarkably similar no matter who happened to be waiting.
After Mason had been admitted and taken to surgery, one of the nurses, Amy, recovered his personal belongings and brought them across to me.
"Here you go, Jack."
I looked up from where I sat with my head in my hands.
"If you need anything, let us know."
I managed a grateful nod before unlocking Mason's phone with hands that still refused to stop trembling.
I stood slowly and slipped out of the waiting room, barely noticing where my feet carried me until I found myself standing in an alcove overlooking the ambulance entrance.
The hospital around me continued its relentless flow of arriving patients, departing visitors, and staff moving with practiced purpose, yet for a few precious minutes I was alone.
I drew a long, unsteady breath before pressing the video call button.
Mrs. Brooks answered almost immediately. Her eyes were red, her face pale, and it was obvious she'd been crying. The instant she recognized me, the questions came before I had a chance to type a single word.
"Jack...where's Mason? Which hospital is he in? Is he awake?"
I raised one finger, silently asking her to give me time, then opened the notes app and typed as quickly as my trembling fingers allowed before turning the screen toward the camera.
Providence Sacred Heart Medical Center. They think the skate that sliced across his side may have damaged tendons and blood vessels so they've taken him straight to surgery to assess and repair the damage. Surgeons are optimistic, but they won't know more about his head injury until he's awake.
Mr. Brooks stepped into view beside her.
"We saw it happen," he said softly, his own voice strained. "We've already booked flights."
I thought you might have.
"We leave within the hour. We'll come straight to the hospital."
I'll stay with him until you get here.
Mrs. Brooks pressed her hand against her mouth briefly before lowering it.
"Thank you, Jack."
Mr. Brooks held my gaze through the screen.
"Take care of him until we get there."
I will.
"And remember, sweetheart, you're family now. We'll take care of you as well when we arrive," Mrs. Brooks assured.
I swallowed hard before ending the call. I remained where I was, Mason's phone resting loosely in my hands.
There was another call I needed to make.
Corey.
I hesitated only briefly before pressing the call button and he answered almost immediately.
He must have seen something in my face because his scowl morphed to concern.
"Jack?"
Did you watch Mason's game?
"No. Did something happen?"
Mason was hurt during tonight's game. He's in surgery.
The color drained from Corey's face.
"Is it bad?"
He took a hard hit. The surgeons are repairing a bad injury to his side. He also has a head injury but won't know anything more until he wakes up.
Corey's voice shook when he spoke.
"This is my fault. I'm coming."
Corey, what happened is NOT your fault.
"I should've called him."
There was nothing I could say to ease that regret.
I'll tell him we spoke and you're worried.
"Tell him..." He stopped, drew a steady breath, and tried again but his voice remained shaky. "Tell him his idiot best friend finally got his head out of his ass."
Despite everything, the corner of my mouth lifted.
I will.
"Keep me informed, Jack. I'll be busy so leave a message if I don't answer."
The call ended after assuring him I would.
On the way back to the waiting room, Amy stopped me.
"The entire hockey team is here." She fanned her face. "Goodness, those boys are too handsome for their own good."
I didn't point out she was old enough to be their mother. I wisely kept that observation to myself.
"They're in the Gardner Room so no one else is disturbed."
After thanking her with a nod, I changed direction to the Gardner room which was even closer to the surgery doors. Every player on the team, along with staff and my Dad stopped talking and turned to me expectantly.
I don't know much but Dr. Juneau, the surgeon, who's very good, said the injury to his side has likely damaged tendons and blood vessels and her team needed to take him into surgery to assess the damage. He didn't wake up on the way here so we don't know how bad the head injury is yet.
Dad stepped forward and folded me into his arms. I rested my face against his chest and for the first time since I'd left the arena, tears flowed. I felt a few of the players pat my back.
Hours passed before the surgeon finally appeared, still wearing surgical scrubs and removing her cap as she approached. I was on my feet before she reached me.
"The operation went well. Mason is still recovering from the anesthetic, but everything went as we'd hoped. "The wound was long but relatively shallow, and there was minimal tendon or vascular damage. We repaired it successfully, and we'll keep him here for several days for observation."
Relief weakened my knees enough that I had to grip the back of the nearest chair.
Can I see him?
"Of course." She glanced around the others. "You lot will have to wait until he's moved into a private room in the morning.
"That's okay, Dr., we have a win to celebrate. We'll be back tomorrow." To me Oscar said, "Tell him we won 4-3."
I watched as they all filed from the waiting room leaving Dad and I alone.
"Do you want me to stay?"
No. I'm going to stay with him so go home and get some rest.
Dad kissed my forehead, and after he left I sent Corey a text updating him before heading to Mason's bedside. One of the ICU nurses met me beside his bay.
"He's stable, Jack. No changes."
The lights had been dimmed, leaving only the soft glow from the nurses' station and the monitors beside his bed.
Mason rested against crisp white pillows, a broad bandage wrapping the side of his head where the stick had struck him.
An IV line disappeared beneath the sleeve of his hospital gown, cardiac monitor leads emerged from beneath the blanket covering him, and every few seconds the monitor beside the bed marked another steady heartbeat.
Seeing him lying so still, surrounded by medical equipment instead of hockey gear, tightened something deep inside my chest.
I pulled a chair closer, sat beside him, and wrapped my fingers securely around his hand.
I'm here.
The hours slipped by almost unnoticed.
Now and again a nurse approached to check his observations, examine the dressings, adjust medication, or shine a small penlight into his eyes before recording another set of numbers on the chart.
Between those visits the bay returned to its usual state, the heart monitor marking each second that passed with reassuring consistency.
Sleep never crossed my mind. Instead I watched the rise and fall of Mason's chest and found myself thinking back over the astonishing speed with which he'd changed my life.
A little over a month earlier Mason had been another name Dad hoped would strengthen the hockey program. Three weeks earlier he'd become my boyfriend. Tonight I'd come frighteningly close to losing him.
Oh, shelve the dramatics, Jack.
I'd spent years convincing myself I didn't deserve someone like Mason.
Someone so open with his affection, so patient with my silence, so determined to understand me instead of trying to change me.
The persistent doubts still lingered deep inside me, whispering that eventually he'd realize loving me required more effort than it was worth.
Watching him lying there erased every one of those thoughts.
If loving someone meant sitting beside a hospital bed through the longest night of my life, then I'd do it without hesitation.
If it meant helping him recover, supporting his career, standing beside him through victories and disappointments alike, I'd do that too.
Whatever the future demanded of me, I'd meet it willingly.
Because somewhere between the first time he'd smiled at me in the arena and tonight, I'd stopped imagining a future that didn't include him.
Mason's fingers twitched against mine before his eyelids fluttered weakly.
Relief flooded through me so suddenly I almost forgot to breathe.