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She needs to give her body the proper time to rest.
She needs to watch video in the morning and not stay up for hours tonight.
I open my mouth to tell her all of that, but I don’t get the chance to because?—
I’m too busy being an idiot.
I march by her, snag the tablet, and power it off. “Fine,” I snap, tucking it under my arm. “I’ll just keep this until morning.” A beat. “After you’ve had a full night’s sleep.”
Because she needs that and hasn’t gotten it, and?—
“Don’t you fucking dare,” she growls, reaching for the iPad.
I hold it up out of range. “Sleep. You can have it in the morning.”
“I’m not a goddamned child,” she grinds out.
“You’re certainly acting like it.”
“So says the man who’s pushed his way into my room and is trying to control what I do. You gave up on having any say in that when you asked for a divorce.” She sniffs. “And anyway, I can take care of myself.”
“Yeah?” I droll out, rage boiling beneath my skin. “Is that really the angle you want to go with?”
“Just give me the iPad.” She grabs at it. “Even someone as stubborn as you has got to see the irony of you keeping me up when if this conversation was just over”—she grunts as I lift the tablet higher—“I could go to sleep sooner.”
“You want to talk about stubborn?” I snap. “Really?”
She narrows her eyes at me.
“Have you forgotten that you were fucking shot,” I snap. “And you didn’t miss a fucking game.”
Fury flashes through chocolate-brown depths. “First, it was a fucking graze, and you know it. I had two stitches. Two! Meanwhile, Lucas almost died, and the kids—” She breaks off on a shudder. “They almost—” Another. “I went to the doctor. I got it checked out and stitched up. There was nothing to worry about.”
“Oh?” I ask dryly. “Is that why you hid it from Mandy?”
She winces. “Mandy and everyone had enough to worry about.”
“And that’s why it’s still bothering you?” I flick my brows up. “Why it even bothered you in the game tonight and Mandy thinks you injured a rib instead of the truth?”
“That’s not relevant to this conversation?—”
“You haven’t been the same since that day in the field at The Dairy, you know you haven’t.”
“Of course I haven’t been the same!” She tosses up her hands but at least gives up on the iPad for the moment. “No one from the team has been the same. A fucking madman opened fire and targeted innocent people and kids and we almost lost someone we love. It’s impossible to remain unchanged in that.”
She has a point, but I can’t bring myself to acknowledge it.
She’s still talking anyway. “Bad shit happens, but we’re supposed to find a way for it to bring us together, to draw us closer?—”
“Yet you didn’t let it stop you from getting right back on the ice, did you?” I snap. “Didn’t give a shit about almost losing loved ones and life being put into perspective when you went right back out there and away from us.”
She presses her lips flat for one long moment. “That’s not fair.”
“Isn’t it?”
“You promised you’d never stand between me and hockey.”
My heart squeezes.
