Natalie smiles, and I hate how warm it looks. “Danna it is, then. I was just telling Ethan that I've reviewed his case extensively, and I'm confident we can get him back to full strength.”
“That's so wonderful to hear.” My mother places a hand over her heart. “We've been so worried. Haven't we, Ethan?”
I grunt.
“Are you from New York originally?” my mother asks, completely ignoring me.
“No, I just moved here, actually. I'm from Charlotte.”
“Charlotte. I have a sister who lives there. It’s such a lovely city, but definitely smaller than New York!” She laughs. “That must be quite an adjustment, moving here.”
“It is, but I'm excited for the change. My cousin works for the Renegades, so I have some family here, which helps.”
“Oh, that's wonderful. Family is so important.” My mother beams at her. “And how are you settling in? Moving can be such a hassle.”
“I'm getting there. I still have a few boxes to unpack, but my apartment is starting to feel like home,” Natalie says.
“Well, if you need anything at all, you just let Ethan know. Restaurant recommendations, the best dry cleaner, anything. He knows this area like the back of his hand.”
I stare at the side of my mother's head.What is she doing?I don't want to be Natalie Cross's tour guide. I don't want to recommend restaurants or dry cleaners or anything else. I want to do my rehab, get back on the ice, and have as little interaction with this woman as possible.
“That's so kind of you, thank you,” Natalie says.
“Ethan is always happy to help.” My mother pats my arm. “Aren’t you, Ethan.”
No, I'm not.I grunt in agreement anyway.
“I’ll be sure to reach out if I need it,” Natalie says, her eyes briefly meeting mine.
They smile at each other like they've known each other for years instead of two minutes. At this rate, my mother will be inviting her to Thanksgiving dinner before we make it to the parking lot.
“Mom.” My irritation level is at a ten out of ten. “We need to go. I have an appointment.”
“Yes, yes, of course.” She pats Natalie's arm. “It was so lovely to meet you, dear. I'm sure you're going to do wonderful things for my son.”
Natalie smiles. “I'll do my best.”
We make our way out to the car, and I lower myself into the passenger seat, wincing as my knee protests the movement. Mymother fusses with my crutches in the back seat before getting behind the wheel.
“What a sweet young woman,” she says as she pulls out of the parking spot. “And you get to work with her every day.”
I grunt.
“Ethan,” she scolds, giving me a knowing look.
“What?”
“You need to be nice to her. She seems very capable. And it doesn’t hurt that she's pretty, too.”
“I don't care if she's pretty, Mom.” I stare out the window at the passing buildings. “I don't need pretty. I need someone who can get me back on the ice.”
My mother is quiet for a moment. I can sense the optimism she wants to inject into this conversation. She's been relentlessly positive since my surgery, talking about silver linings and everything happening for a reason. I know she means well, but I can't stomach it right now.
My future is uncertain. My career might be over. I don't need sunshine and rainbows. I need reality.
“I'm just saying, maybe give her a chance before you decide she's the enemy.”
I don't respond. I just keep staring out the window and count the blocks until we reach the doctor's office.
