“Hey.”
I open my eyes to find Natalie walking towards me. She's in a Renegades polo and black pants, but she's never looked more beautiful to me.
“Hey yourself,” I say.
She glances around to make sure we're alone, then steps closer. Her hand finds mine and squeezes briefly before letting go.
“How are you holding up, baby?” she asks in a soft voice.
The endearment sends warmth through my chest. We've been together for a week now, and no one knows except us, and that's how we want to keep it for now.
“I'm fine,” I lie.
“Liar.” She tilts her head and studies my face. “You don't have to pretend with me.”
“I know.” I run a hand through my hair. “It's just hard watching them do what I should be doing.”
“I know it is. But this is temporary, Ethan. You're getting stronger every day. A few more months and you'll be back out there.”
I want to believe her.God, I want to believe her.But hope is a dangerous thing when you've spent months preparing yourself for the worst.
“I should get back,” she says, stepping away. “But I'll see you later?”
“Count on it.”
She smiles and disappears around the corner, leaving me alone with my thoughts.
I return to my seat and clap and pretend I'm not dying inside. When it's finally over, I make my escape before anyone can corner me for an interview or a photo op.
My driver is waiting in the parking garage with the car running. He opens the back door for me and I slide in, grateful for the tinted windows that hide me from the world.
“Where to, Mr. Ward?”
“Wait a minute. We're picking someone up.”
He nods and returns to the driver's seat without asking questions. That's one of the things I like about Vincent. He minds his own business.
A few minutes later, Natalie appears at the garage entrance. She spots the car and hurries over, sliding into the back seat beside me.
“Thanks for waiting,” she says, slightly breathless.
“I told you I'd give you a ride home.”
Vincent pulls out of the garage and merges into traffic. The partition between the front and back is raised, giving us privacy.
Natalie turns to me, her eyes searching my face. “How are you really doing?”
“I don't know.” I stare out the window at the passing buildings. “Seeing Curtis out there, wearing my number, and playing my position, fucked with my head. Hearing the crowd cheer for him like they used to cheer for me.”
I shake my head and look at Natalie again, hating the pity in her eyes. “He’s a good kid, and he's worked hard. But all I can think about is what if that's it? What if I never get back to where I was?”
She takes my hand. “I've been doing this job for years, Ethan. I've worked with dozens of people recovering from serious injuries. I know who has what it takes to come back and who doesn't.” She squeezes my fingers. “You have it. The determination, the discipline, and the sheer stubbornness to push through when everything hurts and you want to give up. I see it in every session.”
“What if it's not enough?”
“It will be enough.” She lifts my hand and presses a kiss to my knuckles. “And even if the worst happens, even if hockey is over, you're still you. Hockey doesn't define you.”
I swallow hard against the lump in my throat. No one has ever said that to me before. In my world, hockey has always been everything. It’s the source of my income, my identity, and my worth as a person.
