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“No, it did work.” Vic turns to face me, his eyes solemn. “The thing about salvage surgery is that they never promise you’ll be good-as-new. It’s the hope, and it’s possible for a lot of people. We all thought it might be for Erik. He was an athlete, he was in great shape, he responded well to chemo, was serious about getting back to hockey, but…. His gait was never quite right. He ended up needing a second surgery after the metal in his bone loosened and after his second surgery, he developed contractures. The muscles and tendons around his shin bone stiffened and shrank. He was in almost constant pain.”
I don’t understand.
“Erik is an amputee. I’ve seen his prosthetic.”
“Right after our eighteenth birthday, a month after I went to play in Canada, Erik asked for a full amputation.”
And that makes all the difference. That’s what Vic is trying to tell me. It wasn’t just that the disease stole the future he’d wanted. It was that he’d had to make the choice, after hoping to at least keep his leg, to have it removed. My heart stutters at the pain he must have felt in making that decision. The hurt that it came right on the heels of his twin’s career taking off.
“He kept his leg the first time, because he knew it meant giving up a hockey career, but maybe it meant keeping the other parts of his life, the skating, the ice. But he lost both Quinn, and he had to convince people he wasn’t crazy or that he wouldn’t regret his choice. High-impact sports are out with a limb salvage,” Vic says, voice low and urgent, “but skating was still an option. Erik hasn’t been back on the ice since the day he limped off with his shin red and swollen.”
“Until me.” I swallow down the thickness in my throat.
“Until you.”
The silence stretches between us until I can hear each breath and the individual thumps of my heart. There is a static building in my brain, a white noise itch I want to get rid of, but I don’t know how. Vic is still as stone, his eyes watching me as if he can peel back my layers and see my thoughts stamped across my internal organs. The first time he’d been back on the ice in over a decade. And he’d done it for me.
No.
He’d done it with me. The ultimate proof of his trust.
God, I love him.
His strength, his bravery, his kindness. I love every single thing about Erik Varg. Whether he’s here or in Chicago, it doesn’t matter because my life is better when I think of him, when I talk to him, when I can touch him. Better for having met him. To think I’d been annoyed about going to that game all those weeks ago. Had hoped I could sit and read undetected in the stands, but there he’d been to wake me up.
“That’s what I thought,” Vic says and there’s a small smile teasing the corners of his mouth.
And I don’t know what to say. There’s nothing I can say. Because the man I love, the man who loves me, lives almost a thousand miles away and I miss him more every single second of every single day.
Jen peeks her head around the door, Tesseract squirming in her arms.
“Vic,” she nods at the professional hockey player seated on our couch.
“Jennifer,” he nods back and Jen blushes as Tessie jumps down and makes her way to her favorite heating vent. Vic pulls his phone out of his pocket and taps a few buttons on the screen. When he speaks again, his voice is back to normal—light and laughing. “On that note, I need to get going.”
“Hey, I was hoping you were home. Got any plans this afternoon?” Jen asks me and I don’t know what to say. Before Vic had shown up, I was going to work on lesson plans, some set design for the fifth-grade musical, and read the book I’ve been putting off. After Vic’s visit, I’m debating researching jobs or at least weekend flights to Chicago. He’s mine for right now, but how long until he finds someone local? Someone not carrying along a truckload of baggage and fear and worry? I don’t want to lose him. I don’t want to be away from him.
How many months until the end of the school year? Teachers are in demand everywhere. I bet I could find a job in Chicago if I put out feelers.
Would Erik want that?
Do I want that?
If my dad is stable?
Yes. Yes, I want to be there. I want to be with him. Full time. In person. Right?
The front door swings open again and I don’t even look. Vic can grab whatever he left behind without me. I think my brain might shut down on me. Except it’s not Vic, it’s my dad. My dad and Vic. When did my house turn into Grand Central Station?
“Hey Sweetheart,” Dad sweeps me into a tight hug. “Look who I found in your driveway.”
I expect Vic to say something about just being here, but he doesn’t.
“That’s because he was leaving.” Maybe it isn’t fair to be upset with Vic over the morning’s revelation, but I can’t help it. I’d been happy just being something with Erik before ten minutes ago. Now I’m drafting a resignation letter in my head. That was not on my bingo card for this year.
“Is everything okay, Dad?” I don’t remember making plans, but he seems to be in good spirits. He has his Arctic jersey on with Vic’s name and number plastered across the back, his knit cap pulled down to his onetime eyebrows, and a big smile on his round face.
“Of course, I’m just here for the game.”
