Chapter 14 #2
Dressed and settled in bed, Livy tucked his blanket in around him and kissed him on the forehead.
“There,” she said. “If you need anything, actually call me, okay? I don’t want to wake up to you concussed on the bathroom floor again.”
Hazy grimaced and promised not to push himself so hard.
She’d barely closed his bedroom door behind her before he was gripping his cock in hard strokes.
He had to get some of the sexual frustration out of the way.
If he could satisfy his needs, she would go back to being family in his mind, and he’d never have to think about it again.
The intent didn’t stop him from coming to the mental image of her tits in his face and her soft fingers on his jaw.
Hazy had his first post-injury meeting with his trainer a month after his accident.
Livy accompanied him. They’d gotten into a routine of sorts.
She took care of his surgical wounds and guided him through the bare-bones range of motion physical therapy exercises he’d been advised by the hospital staff to do.
She also kept him from sinking too far into self-pity.
He’d been under strict orders to bear no weight on his leg, and he was dying to get mobile. The sooner he could get back on his feet, the sooner he could be chasing the Cup again. If all went well, he’d be walking out of the practice rink.
Robbie did a quick examination. They tested his range of motion. They took X-rays.
“Good news!” Robbie said when the team doctor finished his portion of the exam.
“Yeah?” Hazy asked, a cheesy smile spreading across his face. Giddiness bubbled in his stomach.
“You’re healing faster than we expected.”
Hope surged, and if he could bend his knee, he’d be kicking his feet with glee. “Do you think I’ll be back before the end of the season?”
Robbie sighed. The smile fell from his face. “Not that good of news, I guess.”
Livy asked, “But he’ll be able to bear some weight soon?” She rubbed Hazy’s back in comforting circles.
“Very soon,” Robbie said. He winked at Hazy. “In about two minutes.”
Hallelujah. “Better than nothing,” Hazy said. He accepted his crutches from Robbie.
His care team fitted him with a new brace that gave him much more range of motion than the previous one. He took his first few steps with most of his weight on his crutches, and the euphoria at his progress outweighed his dread of fading into obscurity for a few blissful moments.
Livy took notes on every exercise the physical therapist walked him through.
After an hour of bending and stretching and testing his new limits, she asked, “Is there anything else I should know?”
Robbie shook his head at her, but spoke to Hazy, “You’re going to be tempted to do more. Don’t. You’ll delay your recovery if you do too much too fast.”
Hazy rolled his eyes. He’d had enough injuries over the years to recognize his own limits.
“Yes, Dad,” he said, voice full of sarcasm.
“Be nice,” Livy scolded him.
“I’m serious, Connor,” Robbie said. “Rest, minimal weight-bearing, and the exercises I showed you. Ice and elevate. Nothing more until you’re released for full weight.”
Oof. He brought out the government name. Hazy swallowed hard and nodded.
“Got it.” His voice came out whiny. Like a pouting, moody teenager.
“Do you have any idea when he’ll be walking normally?” Livy asked.
“We’ll check back in a couple of weeks. After Thanksgiving.”
Thanksgiving felt a million years away, but Hazy could wait. At least he wouldn’t have to travel for the worst holiday of the year.
Hazy’s parents insisted on flying in for Thanksgiving regardless of his protests.
Most years he could get out of celebrating because of his game schedule, but with his injury, he no longer had a valid excuse.
He had hoped that being unable to travel comfortably would deter them from changing their plans. No such luck.
Spending a few days with Hazy had been plenty of incentive for them to cancel their annual cruise to the Bahamas, but as soon as his mom learned both Livy and Jayden would be staying at his house, any hope of a quiet holiday evaporated.
His mom was maybe a little too obsessed with Livy.
Since they were little, Hazy had been convinced that Livy was the daughter his mother always yearned for.
And though Jayden still lived fifteen minutes away from Hazy’s childhood home and visited Hazy’s parents for dinner every Sunday, they would never say no to spending more time with the man they considered a second son.
His house felt overwhelmingly full even though it only contained his favorite people.
He’d been careful about how far he pushed himself, taking Robbie’s warning seriously. Having houseguests put him on edge. He had to be on, and that wiped more of his energy than anticipated.
He sat at the head of his fancy dining room table with his aching leg propped on the chair next to him, an ice pack strapped to the swollen area. Taking the spot at the head of the table felt wrong, but his father insisted so he could elevate his leg.
Lover, who invited himself to dinner as soon as he heard Hazy’s mom would be cooking, sat to his right and reached across Hazy to grab the gravy boat and drown his mashed potatoes.
“This is the best Thanksgiving ever! Thanks for cooking, Mrs. Hale.” He shoveled a bite of the drenched potatoes into his mouth.
Hazy’s mom gave Lover a doting smile. “Of course! I couldn’t let my kids go hungry on Thanksgiving.”
“We wouldn’t have starved. I do know how to order takeout,” Hazy said.
His mom tutted. “Takeout on Thanksgiving is depressing. You have like two options, and there’s no love in that.”
Livy, who sat on the other side of Lover, snorted. “I wouldn’t have let them order takeout. We would have had a home-cooked meal. Not one this good, though.”
“Well, you put in as much work as I did. You should be proud. The stuffing is your best yet.”
Hazy had to agree. Livy had been preparing the stuffing for the Hale family Thanksgivings since Hazy was thirteen. The Hales always had the Stewarts over for Thanksgiving dinner, but that year Livy insisted on cooking a dish.
Hazy’s grandma taught her the Hale family stuffing recipe, a secret she kept from her own daughters. He hadn’t eaten the infamous side dish in years.
Jayden whooped. “Hell yeah, it’s the best yet.” To Livy he said, “I’m glad you made it. I worried I’d never have it again when you started spending Thanksgiving with Lance’s family.”
“Oh my God, I’m relieved I don’t have to deal with that asshole’s mother anymore. She is the absolute worst.”
Thinking about Lance’s ungrateful family getting to enjoy his grandma’s secret stuffing recipe made acid rise into Hazy’s throat. He set his fork on his plate and pushed the food away.
“You’ll never have to cook for someone who doesn’t appreciate it again,” he promised.
Lover raised his glass. “Cheers to that.”
Everyone touched their glasses in the center of the table and took sips from their drinks.
Hazy gazed longingly at each person’s glass of wine.
He was stuck with sparkling apple juice because he still needed painkillers.
His fucking leg should heal faster. Partial weight-bearing was great.
Better than lying around all the time, but he’d been useless all day.
He’d watched Jayden and Livy cook with his mom, and Lover set the table with his dad. All while he followed Livy’s orders to stay off his feet. His whole family occupied one room ten feet from him, but they felt a thousand miles away.
After dinner Jayden and Hazy’s dad disappeared into a guest room to watch the football game. His mother had one rule about Thanksgiving football. They could watch, but she didn’t want to hear it. According to Christina Hale, football tied soccer for the most boring sport ever. Hazy agreed.
He took a spot on the couch, elevating his leg and flipping on a Christmas movie, his favorite tradition. His mom sat next to him and pulled him into her arms. He let her snuggle him to her heart’s content, knowing it was all he could offer her in the way of being a good son.
His parents wanted more kids, but had struggled to conceive.
Bearing the weight of being an only child felt impossible most days, but when his parents were far away, the pressure eased.
They loved him. They would never want him to feel like he wasn’t enough, but he couldn’t help it.
He was their only shot at a successful child.
The pressure to perform at the top of his game, to be the best he could be, always lingered.
They could brag to their friends about him.
He was their only hope for grandchildren.
The honor came with obligations, and while he hoarded all their parental love, he was also solely responsible for any disappointment.
Livy and Lover stood in the kitchen, rinsing the dishes they’d volunteered to do and laughing together. Warmth blossomed in Hazy’s chest. He loved them both so much.
“What’s going on with them?” his mom asked, waving a hand toward his best friends.
“What do you mean?” he whispered.
“They seem mighty cozy together. Do you think Connor might be the one Livy has been waiting for?”
Hazy pretended to consider it for the first time. He’d been hyper-fixated on the possibility for weeks. They’d be a beautiful couple. “I don’t think Lover is interested.”
“He’s been flirting with her all night.”
He knew he hadn’t been imagining it! “That’s why I think he’s not interested. He clams up around girls he likes. I wish you could see it. It’s the most adorable thing ever; his cheeks get all red, and he stumbles over his words.”
His mom laughed, and he giggled with her.
Livy eyed them with suspicion. “What’s so funny over there?”
Hazy gestured toward the TV. “Funny joke.” He rolled his lips between his teeth to contain his laughter.
Lover raised his eyebrows at them. “I’m watching you,” he said, using two fingers to point to his own eyes, then twisting his hand to point at them.
Hazy flipped him off, and his mom slapped his hand.
“That’s rude,” she said.
Lover stuck his tongue out at Hazy, and Hazy rolled his eyes.
His friends went back to their cleaning, and his mom said, “She’ll find someone someday.”
“Mhmm,” Hazy agreed.
They watched the movie for a bit before his mom said, “Have you ever considered maybe...” She trailed off.
“Maybe what?” he asked.
His mom pursed her lips and stared at the ceiling, searching for her words in a familiar gesture. “I don’t know,” she said.
Hazy couldn’t leave it alone. “No, tell me. Have I ever considered what?”
Running her fingers through his hair, she said, “Maybe you and Livy could be something.”
“We are something. Best friends.”
“That’s a given. Livy will always be around. But you’ve never thought about maybe being a little... more?”
Hazy was stunned. He stared at Livy and Lover, their heads bent together, whispering while they worked.
“See?” his mom said. “Forget I said anything.”
“Mom,” he said, the word sticking in his throat.
She ran her fingers through his hair again and squeezed him tight. “It’s okay, honey. That wasn’t fair of me to ask.”
“No, it’s okay. Livy is like a sister. That’s all.”
He’d said the words a million times before, to anyone who ever asked. It was the only answer he had any right to. Hazy eliminated any chance of them ever exploring more when they were teenagers.
The image of her in their treehouse, their childhood sanctuary, was burned into his brain forever.
The memory of his draft day was forever tainted.
He’d been terrified of moving to Seattle.
A thousand miles seemed Lightyears away back then.
Livy offered to come with him. But she had a whole life to live, and he would never ask her to compromise on her dreams for him.
“What about college? Your dreams? Becoming a nurse and having kids with your dream man? What happened to all that? You can’t do that if you’re following me around.” His pitch rose with every syllable.
She stood and crowded him; her temper spilling over at his reaction to her offer. “You are my dream man,” Livy shouted back at him.
Shock had his heart in his throat, and he stepped back from her. “What? Ew. No, I’m not. You’re like my sister.”
Livy recoiled, her reaction so physical she could have been slapped. “I’m so in love with you it literally hurts, like a giant open wound in my chest. And you don’t even see me.” She sank into her neon pink beanbag, the wind taken out of her sails.
Connor looked down at her as she cried at his feet. He knew his words weren’t the right ones. Knew he’d fucked up the second they left his mouth, even though they were honest.
Gathering their dirty cereal bowls, he moved to leave, scared of making the situation worse. He stopped in the doorway. “It’s been a long day. You’re not thinking straight. Let’s talk tomorrow, okay?”
She nodded. Connor left.
They didn’t talk the next day. Or the day after that. Or the day after that. It took years for them to repair their relationship. They chose each other over and over to save their friendship. He wouldn’t mess that up. “Like a sister” is exactly how he’d described her their entire lives.
It didn’t matter that suddenly—for the first time—the words didn’t feel like the truth.