Chapter 3 #2
The rink is chaos around us. Twenty-plus players moving in practiced formations, the sound of skates on ice and sticks hitting pucks echoing off the walls.
We’ve been at this for over an hour. Coach isn’t here today—some pack business he had to handle—but that doesn’t mean we slack off.
If anything, we push harder when he’s not watching.
Prove we don’t need him breathing down our necks to be good.
Brody slams into me from the side, a legal check that still rattles my teeth. “Wake up, man. You’ve been slow all practice.”
He’s right. My head isn’t in the game today. Hasn’t been for days, if I’m being honest.
“I’m fine,” I snap, more irritated at myself than him.
The whistle blows, and we break into drills. Line changes, power plays, defensive formations. The rest of the team moves around us in organized chaos, but my mind keeps drifting.
It’s been three days since that incident at the park. Since Ethan wandered off and that infuriating nurse found him. Since I saw that bruise on her face and felt the beast try to claw its way out of my skin.
I haven’t thought about her since.
Liar.
Coach’s assistant blows the whistle again, calling for a scrimmage. The team divides, and I find myself on a line with Samuel and Brody. We play hard, the kind of physical exertion that usually clears my head. Today it does nothing.
By the time practice ends, I’m sweating and breathing hard but no less distracted than when I started.
The locker room is loud with post-practice banter. Players strip off gear, talking about tonight’s plans, ribbing each other about missed shots. I head to my section, tuning most of it out.
Samuel, Eric, Brody, and Josh gravitate toward their lockers near mine. We’ve been playing together for years, and we know each other’s rhythms on and off the ice. The rest of the team filters out in groups, headed for showers or already making plans for the night.
I’m pulling off my gear when I realize something’s missing.
My keychain.
The small teddy bear that’s been on my gym bag for the last four years.
Gabriel had it attached to his locker key back when he played on this team.
After he died, I took it. I have other things of his: a watch he never wore, some old hockey jerseys, photographs.
But this is different. This was something he carried every single day, touched before every practice, every game.
Something small and worn that meant enough to keep on his locker key.
My chest tightens. It means more than all the rest combined.
And now I can’t find it.
I tear through my bag, checking every pocket, every compartment. Nothing.
“Looking for something?” Eric asks, already dressed and ready to leave. The locker room has emptied out significantly, just a handful of guys left.
“My keychain. The little bear one. You seen it?”
He shakes his head. “Not today. When did you have it last?”
“I thought I left it in my locker.” I stand up, scanning the bench and floor. “Maybe I was wrong.”
Samuel pauses in pulling on his jacket. “Where did you see it last?”
“I definitely had it on me after we were returning from the match that night of the collision.”
Josh, who’s been quietly packing his gear, snaps his fingers. “What if you dropped it at the hospital?”
My stomach drops. “The hospital.”
Brody whistles low. “That was over a week ago, man. It’s probably long gone by now.”
The thought makes something feral snarl inside me. No. Not this. I’ve already lost Gabriel. I can’t lose this too.
“Maybe not.” Josh shrugs. “Hospitals have lost and found departments, don’t they?”
“Yeah.” I’m already grabbing my bag and shoving my gear inside. “Yeah, they do.”
“You’re leaving?” Samuel looks surprised. “I thought we were all heading to my place to get shit-faced.”
“Unlike you losers, I have a child to take care of,” I throw over my shoulder. A helmet comes flying, and I duck before it hits me, grinning.
“Come on, losers,” Samuel snickers. “More for us.”
I head out, my grin fading.
I have to find that keychain.
The mansion is dark when I pull up except for the soft glow of lights from Ethan’s room. Linda’s car is in the driveway, which means she’s already put him to bed.
I find her in the kitchen, cleaning up from dinner.
“You’re home late,” she says without looking up from the dishes.
“Practice ran long.” I grab a bottle of water from the fridge. “Ethan asleep?”
“Has been for the last hour. Poor thing tuckered himself out playing in the garden.” She dries her hands on a towel and gives me that look. The one that says she knows something’s up. “You going somewhere?”
“Just need to run an errand. Won’t be long.”
“At this hour?”
“It’s not even ten yet.” I’m already heading for the stairs to change out of my workout clothes.
“Grayson, have you thought about a replacement nanny?” she asks as I climb up the steps. “I keep telling you I’m going to retire any day now. I’m old, boy.”
“Old?” I grin. “You’re not a day over fifty, Linda.”
Her snort follows me to my bedroom where I shower and change into jeans and a dark shirt. I check on Ethan and find him sprawled across his bed, teddy bear clutched to his chest, nightlight casting soft shadows across his face. My chest tightens watching him sleep so peacefully.
The hospital is a twenty-minute drive, and the parking lot has quite a few cars. The ER entrance is quieter than it was that first night but still busy. A few people sit in the waiting area, a woman I don’t recognize at the intake desk.
I head to the lost and found where a pretty blonde is sitting. When she sees me, her bored expression transforms into one of interest. “How can I help you?”
“Hey there.” I turn on the charm, beaming at her. “I was in here the other day and dropped a keychain. It had a bear attached to it. Could you see if someone turned it in?”
“A keychain?” She turns around to check the boxes behind her. It takes her some time, and I try not to let my impatience show. Finally she turns around and says ruefully, “I’m sorry. I can’t see it. But if you want to leave your number, I’ll let you know if I find it.”
Her smile is shy and a little hopeful as she pushes a pen and paper toward me.
Reluctantly I look down at it. I really don’t want to give out my number.
The last thing I need is for it to get leaked.
Before I can make a decision, however, a familiar scent reaches me, and a woman says, “Jennie, put this in the box, will you? I found these glasses in one of the beds.”
“Sure, Miranda.” Jennie reaches out to take the glasses, and I turn around to face the woman.
“Nurse Carver.” I have on my most charming smile. “We really need to stop running into each other like this.”
“You again?” She gives me a surprised look that holds hints of annoyance. “What are you doing here?”
I lean against the marble counter, grinning at her. “It’s a hospital. Take a guess.”
“Ethan must be fine considering you’re smiling like a loon,” she mutters.
My smile fades at the mention of Ethan, and I immediately grab her by the arm and pull her a safe distance.
“Hey!” she protests, and I immediately let her go. She’s too thin, I note to myself.
“Sorry.” I look around cautiously. “Can you not mention my son in public?”
Her eyes narrow. “Why? He is yours, isn’t he?”
“Yes!” I scowl. “But I am a celebrity, and I try to keep a low profile where my child is concerned. I already told you. Nobody knows about him. The last thing I need is a nurse with the gift of the gab spilling my secrets.”
“Gift of the gab?” She gives me an outraged look. “How dare you? It’s not like I was telling anyone. I was asking you!”
“Well, keep your voice down!” I hiss.
Her expression contorts into one of frustrated anger. “I think I prefer an aneurysm over talking to you. Get out of my face.”
She begins walking away, and for a moment I note her attire. Her hair is pulled back in that same tight bun, scrubs replacing the running clothes from the park. When we were talking, I noticed that the bruise on her face has faded to a yellowish green. Better but still visible.
She suddenly stops and turns around. “You wouldn’t happen to be here looking for a keychain, would you?”
My eyes widen. “You found it?”
I cover the distance between us, and she immediately steps back. “Yeah. And I called out to you, but you’d already left.”
“Why not give it to me that day we met in the park?”
She stares at me as if I’m a very particular kind of idiot. “You think I carried it around with me as a memento, just hoping to run into you by chance?”
“You could’ve mentioned it,” I retort.
“Sorry,” she drawls. “I was busy rescuing your child. My bad.”
I wince. “Fine. Can I have it now?”
“It’s in my locker. Come with me.”
I do, watching the sway of her hips as she leads me through the hallway toward the staff area. The break room is empty when we enter. She goes straight to a locker, spinning the combination lock.
“I wouldn’t have expected you to keep it,” I say, leaning against the wall.
“It looked worn out.” She pulls open the locker and retrieves the keychain from a small shelf. “I assumed it meant something to you.”
She hands it to me, our fingers brushing. Her skin is soft and warm. The contact lasts a second too long before I close my fingers around the familiar soft fabric. The relief is so strong it makes my throat tight.
“Thank you.” The words come out quieter than I mean them to.
“You’re welcome.” She turns back to close her locker. “Now if that’s all, I really do have patients, so you’re welcome to scram.”
Despite her tone, she looks exhausted. There are shadows under her eyes, and her movements have a heaviness to them.
“Long shift?” I ask.
“Is there any other kind?” She doesn’t look at me.
“You should take better care of yourself.”
That gets her attention. She turns, one eyebrow raised. “Excuse me?”
“You look tired.”
“How observant.” Her voice drips sarcasm.
“I’m serious.” I pocket the keychain carefully, making sure it’s secure. “When’s the last time you slept more than four hours?”