6. KAI
KAI
Blank Slate
The first thing I register is a hand on my face.
Not a nurse's hand. Nurses are efficient, clinical, already reaching for the next task before they've finished the current one.
This hand is warm and unhurried, fingertips pressing against my cheek like they've done it before.
My eyes open.
A woman is standing over me. Tall, chestnut hair falling loose past her shoulders with lovely hazel eyes. Her face fills with relief.
She looks at me like I matter to her.
"Oh, Kai."
Her voice splinters on my name. Not the careful way Mom says it, always bracing for the next bad update. This is unguarded.
My chest responds before my brain does, warmth radiating through it. I lean toward her before I've decided to.
But I don't know this woman.
"I'm sorry," I say. My voice sounds like sandpaper. "Have we met?"
For a second, she just stares at me.
Her eyes go bright and wet, and her lips press together like she’s physically holding something back.
Then it’s gone.
She blinks once, squares her shoulders, and when she looks at me again, her expression is carefully neutral.
“Yeah,” she says. “We have.”
Mira shifts in her chair. Mom looks between us.
“Ava…” Mom starts.
“I’m fine.” She gives her a small smile that doesn’t quite reach her eyes, then turns back to me. “It’s okay. You don’t remember.”
Something about how calmly she says it makes me feel even worse.
"We met at the gala." Her voice is rough but even. "The charity event for the team. I'm an interior designer."
I search for anything that will help me recall the face. A gala. A lounge. Her face in a crowd.
Nothing.
“What gala?”
Her face crumples. For a second I think she's going to cry or bolt, but then she visibly straightens. Her chin comes up.
"Wow, okay," she says. "That's a blow to the ego I'll be processing for a while."
"I didn't mean..."
She takes a step closer, speaking with a gentle tone. "I designed the VIP lounge at the LA Ice charity thing. You told me the room used to look like a furniture showroom."
My mind doesn’t come up with any image. But the way she says it, lips twitching, makes me wish I’d remember it.
"Did I actually say that?"
"You said it was catastrophic."
She smiles, and it changes her whole face. My lips stretch without my consent. I start laughing at my reaction. It hurts my head, a sharp pulse behind my left eye.
Her whole posture shifts, arms dropping, a step forward before she catches herself.
"You okay?"
"Laughing apparently has side effects now."
"Then I should probably stop cracking jokes. For medical reasons."
"Please don't."
The words come out before I've thought about them.
She blinks. I blink.
Mira watches from her chair, coffee cup frozen halfway to her mouth. Mom’s expression is soft and a little stunned and Dad has already left the room.
Ava recovers first.
She crosses the distance and wraps her hands around mine.
"You don't have to remember me. You just have to get better. That's the whole job. You think you can handle it?"
"I've handled worse."
"I doubt that, but I appreciate your confidence."
She squeezes once and lets go, and my hand feels the absence of it, which makes no sense for a stranger.
She pulls the visitor chair closer to the bed and sits, tucking one leg under her. She digs in her bag and brings out a small, green, stubborn-looking potted plant then sets it on the tray table beside the machines.
"It's a succulent. It's basically impossible to kill. I figured that was on-theme. Water it once a week and ignore it the rest of the time and it thrives."
"You're giving me a plant?"
"I'm giving you survival instincts. Anytime you look at the plant, decide you’ll survive and win."
“That makes sense.”
She nods, looking pleased with herself.
Mom makes a sound that's half a laugh, and Ava turns to her.
"He's going to be okay. Look at him,” she says, gesturing at me. “He's already insulting me. That's a man on the mend."
"I haven't insulted you once," I say.
"You forgot I existed. That's the premium tier of insult. Everything after this is uphill for you, so don't worry."
I laugh again. This time it doesn't hurt as much.
I don't remember Ava. But I actually think I would fucking like to.
I study her face. The hazel eyes, the warm brown hair, the expressiveness that makes everything she's feeling visible.
She's beautiful in a way that has nothing to do with effort.
We talk for a few more minutes. She tells me about her work, and I tell her about waking up with no memory of the last four years. She talks with her hands, punctuating stories with gestures that nearly knock over my water cup twice.
Eventually her phone buzzes. She checks it and stands, smoothing her shirt.
"I have to go, but the plant stays. Water it. If it dies, I'll know and I'll be very disappointed. You don't want that. I'm terrifying when I'm that way. Ask anyone."
My lips twitch. "I don't have anyone to ask.”
She says goodbye to my mother, the two of them exchanging a warmth I wish I'm part of. At the door she stops and looks back at me.
"Get better, Kai Donovan. That's an order. You’re not allowed to lie on a hospital bed feeling sorry for yourself.”
She leaves, and the room settles back into its beeping rhythm. I look at the plant then at my mother.
"Who is she really?"
"A friend," Mom says with a catch in her voice. "A good one, I think. I hope you get to find out."
***
The next afternoon, my team arrives.
I hear them before I see them. Then the door bangs open and the room fills with large men in street clothes who don't fit in hospital chairs.
The one in front has copper-blond hair sticking up everywhere, freckles, and a grin that takes up his whole face. He's carrying a balloon shaped like a hockey stick.
"You look like garbage, Cap. Genuine garbage. I've seen roadkill with better color."
"Wyatt," Dad says in a low warning tone.
"What? He knows I mean it with love."
Dad snorts.
"I brought a balloon, Charles, I'm being supportive."
I don't know him. He must have joined the team within the last four years. Nobody in the room seems ready to say that part out loud, so I do.
“What did you just call me?”
“Cap. Captain.”
My chest tightens with joy. “I made captain.”
Wyatt laughs. “Oh, this is splendid. I can tell you anything and you’ll have to believe it.”
I frown. "I don't remember you."
He clutches his chest and staggers back into a much larger man behind him. Theo.
"Theo, he forgot me. This is the best day of my life, I can say anything now and there’ll be no consequences."
Theo ducks to clear the doorframe. His beard is now full.
"There are always consequences for you." He comes to the bedside carefully, like I might break. "Hey, Kai. Good to see you awake. Don't let him rattle you, he's ninety percent noise."
Wyatt ignores him and drops into the visitor chair, long legs sprawled, a paper bag in his lap.
"Brought you contraband."
He pulls out a foil-wrapped burrito the size of a small child.
"The nurses said no outside food."
"The nurses can fight me." He takes a massive bite and offers me the other half, still chewing. "You want?"
My stomach hasn't been steady since I woke up.
"I’ll pass."
"Your loss. This place has nothing but Jell-O and sad food."
Easton comes in, a cap on backward. He leans against the window frame.
"You look awful."
"You've aged," I say.
His eyebrow lifts. "Fair."
My attention shifts to the other guys crowded around the room. I recognize some of them from the photos and videos I've been shown, but putting names to faces in real life is still hit or miss.
My eyes land on the man standing beside the bed.
Nothing.
I squint at him, trying to force something loose.
"That's Jordan," Theo says, coming to my rescue. "Try not to leave him alone with any of the nurses."
Jordan presses a hand to his chest. "One time."
"Three," Theo corrects.
Jordan grins. "Still feels judgmental." He gives me a nod before stepping back.
Theo points around the room. "Cole. Dmitri. Camden."
Cole lifts two fingers in greeting from where he's leaning against the wall.
Dmitri gives me a short nod. "Good to see you awake, Cap."
Camden gives me a nod from the chair by the window. “Camden. In case Theo’s introduction didn’t stick.”
“He has amnesia, not a five-second memory,” Theo says.
Camden’s mouth twitches. “Good distinction.”
A laugh escapes me before I can stop it.
They all settle into positions around the room like a defensive formation, everyone angled toward me, watching without being obvious about it.
"So," Wyatt says, still chewing. "On a scale of one to ten, how weird is it that we're all strangers to you?"
"Wyatt," Easton says.
"I'm asking what everyone wants to ask."
"You're asking what you want to ask. The rest of us have tact."
Wyatt waves a hand, unbothered.
I look at them. Four men who know me better than I know myself right now.
"I remember some of you. Easton from his rookie season. Theo from before that. The rest is blank."
Theo takes it with a slow nod. Jordan's hand tightens on the bed rails once then relaxes.
"Do you remember winning the cup?" Easton asks.
"No."
"Two years ago at game seven, you scored the winner in overtime."
I try to feel the weight of that. A cup-winning overtime goal, the thing I've chased since I first held a stick. Somewhere in the four years I can't touch, I apparently lived the single greatest moment of my career.
And I can't remember a second of it.
“After that, you became our captain,” Theo says.
“Your speech was incredible,” Wyatt adds, grinning. “You cried. Theo cried. Jordan pretended he had somewhere better to be.”
“I did have somewhere better to be.”
Wyatt raises an eyebrow. “Her name was Brittany.”
Jordan’s grin is slow and shameless. “See? You do remember.”
"Enough," Theo says, but he's almost smiling.
The noise dies all at once, and I understand why when I see Coach Brennan. He doesn't come in laughing. The whole team straightens without being told.
"Out," he says. "You had your visit. Let me have my captain."
They go, grumbling.