“Good. Fine. I mean, I think fine. Lily’s a great therapist, and I honestly didn’t think I’d be walking without a crutch or a cane so soon, not after the surgery I had, but she said I’m ready.”
Dad nods slowly. For some reason, I talk more with him than I do anyone else in my family. Maybe because he’s quiet, like me, so I don’t feel the need to use my words sparingly.
“I’m glad to hear it. I’m glad you came today, also.”
We sip coffee in silence for a minute. I know he has a reason for asking me to come over, just as I know he’ll get to that reason when he’s ready. Sure enough, my mug is half empty when Dad decides to speak again.
“After my accident, there were several months when I honestly didn’t know how I’d ever get by. Everything changed. I couldn’t kick a soccer ball in the yard with you boys, I couldn’t take the dog for a walk, I was in constant pain, and I couldn’t do my job. I couldn’t provide for my family anymore.”
His dark eyes, the mirror to my own, stare at me with compassion. How did it not dawn on me until now that out of anyone, Dad would understand the best what I’m going through. A drunk driver almost took him from us nine years ago. Thankfully, he survived, but the damage to his body remains. It’s why all of us Donnellys take extra precautions when we go out, always ensuring a sober driver for everyone.
“I loved my work with the forest service. But there was no chance in hell of me traipsing through the woods, surveying trails and the like. I had to face facts; my career was over well before I was ready for it to be.”
I open my mouth, but he holds up his hand to stop me.
“You’re going to say I was nearing retirement age, so it can’t have been that big of a deal, but it was. Not only did we need the money from my income, but I enjoyed my work. And when it was gone, because of some idiot and not because I chose to retire, I grieved that loss. Your mother knew how I was struggling, but we tried hard to keep it from you kids. It was bad enough you had to go through watching me heal in the hospital and at home, you didn’t need to know your old man was depressed, as well.”
“Dad,” I murmur, but he keeps going.
“I’m not telling you this now for any reason of my own. I’m telling you this, so that you know, it’s okay to grieve. It’s okay to be sad or angry that your career was taken from you. But learn from my experience. It’s a hell of a lot easier to get through that grief if you let the people who love you stand beside you. If it hadn’t been for your mother holding my hand, and you kids carrying on with your lives, showing me how much I still had to be thankful for, I don’t know how I would’ve made it through those first few months.”
He lifts his coffee mug to his lips but pauses before taking a sip. “Your family loves you, Jude, whether you play in the NHL or become a garbage collector. Your worth is not tied up in hockey. It might take you some time to see that, but I hope you do, sooner rather than later.”
Those words stick with me long after I leave my parents’ house after promising Dad I’d come by for dinner tomorrow.
It’s not like he said anything new or earth-shattering. Of course, I’m grieving the loss of my career. Isn’t it obvious? But something about hearing him own up to his struggles, which I truly had no clue he ever experienced, makes it feel that much more real.
I just don’t know if I can let everyone in, let everyone see how lost I feel. How untethered I feel without hockey.
And why, when Idothink of letting someone in, showing them how much I’m struggling, is Lily’s face the one I see?
Chapter fifteen
Lily
After that insane coffee date with Kat, where she blew my mind with how easily she jumped to conclusions, I’m in a bit of a fog. So much so that I don’t notice how Sukhi is not her usual helpful self until she huffs at my perfectly reasonable request for her to fax a list of equipment recommendations to our usual vendor.
“Did I do something?” I ask, baffled at why she’s being snippy.
Instead of an answer, I get an eye roll. “I’ll send it when I have time.” She snatches the paper and storms off, leaving me standing at the front desk completely confused.
“Lily, if you have a moment, we need to discuss something.” Gianni’s voice has me turning around. There’s an inscrutable look on his face, but his posture tells me he’s also perturbed.
“I’ve got a break between patients right now,” I say, and he turns on his heel and walks to the private treatment room I usually use with Jude.
He doesn’t close the door, but I still get the distinct feeling I’ve been pulled into the principal’s office. But why am I in trouble?
“It would not be appropriate for me to pass any judgment on your personal choices. However, I do feel I should remind you that any relationships with patients outside of the clinic, while not forbidden, need to have no impact on the services you provide. It would be outside of your professional code of ethics to provide physical therapy in an unlicensed setting or to provide preferential treatment based solely on personal relationships.”
My mouth falls open in shock. “I’m sorry, what now?” I give my head a shake, certain I’m misunderstanding. Is he implying…
Oh. Shit.
“It’s not what you think,” I start, but Gianni holds both hands up to stop me.
“As I said, I cannot pass judgment on your choices. It’s not my place. Not to mention the NDA we all signed regarding a certain patient. You’re an excellent therapist and I trust you can remain professional. Should the need arise pass on a client to a team member, please notify me immediately.”
He steps out of the room, and for thethirdtime in as many hours, I am left stunned by the assumptions people make.
