“And you’ve got some months ahead of you now.When is training camp?”
“Not until September.”
“Good.So we’re talking three months or so, which means we’ll have you close to your playing weight if we continue this course.”
“If?There’s no alternative, is there?”
“There’s always an alternative, but I believe this is our best chance of seeing you make a full recovery.”
Exactly what the team doc had said too.“Okay then.Consider me committed.”
Dr.Winthrop gave further instructions, and Kyle fought a grimace as his words struck home.He’d still be off any real kind of training for another two months, which was leaving his lead-in time to achieve his fitness goals by training camp pretty slim.
Still, none of this had taken God by surprise, so he should be glad for the extra time off.Time he’d spent working on his property portfolio, on his financial investments, as well as watching Winnipeg finally gain their first Stanley Cup when they beat Detroit in five games.The extra time had allowed him to prepare to attend Mitch Reilly’s wedding next weekend.It had also allowed more time for him to pray, attend church, and read his Bible as he continued trying to give his future—and Gen—to God.
He entered the hospital elevator, thankful that unlike the last time when he’d been forced to use the wheelchair, this time he could walk.
His thoughts flew to next week.He was due to fly to Saint Paul and meet the other Northwest Ice guys for Mitch’s bachelor party on Wednesday.Then Saturday was the big day.Mitch had apparently wanted the wedding to be in his hometown of Trinity Lakes, on the ranch his family owned.But Britta’s family had requested it be held in Minnesota, and what the bride wanted, the bride got, or so Mitch had said.Seemed Mitch was a softy as far as Britta was concerned.
He exited onto the main lobby area of the hospital, almost bumping into—
“Gen?”
She turned, eyes wide, and he saw how they were red-rimmed.Had she been crying?Wait—was that a cut on her cheek?How had that happened?
“Hey.”
She blinked.“Kyle.I… I didn’t think you’d be here.”
“I just had a checkup with Dr.Winthrop.”
A crease formed between her eyebrows.“Is everything okay?”
“Yeah.Thanks.Except it’s gonna be another eight weeks or so until I can strap on my skates again.Apparently it’s better to be safe than sorry.”
“Who knew?”
His lips curved.“How are you?”
“Oh.I’m okay.Tired.I’ve had some double shifts lately and I forgot how much it wears me out.”
“Double shifts?How long are they?”
She shrugged.“It can be anything from sixteen to twenty-four hours.”
“What?Don’t you sleep?”Maybe lack of sleep accounted for the red-rimmed eyes.
“We get what sleep we can in the doctors’ lounge, but yeah, it’s not ideal.”
He touched his cheek.“You’ve got a cut here.”The guy she was with—he hadn’t hurt her, had he?“Is, uh, everything okay?”That didn’t sound too much like he was fishing, did it?
She sighed.“A patient took a swing at me a week or so ago.It’s still healing.”
Heat rose.“Did you report him?”
“The police have him, poor man.He was just distraught at losing his wife.I feel sorry for him, actually.”
Her gift of compassion was still strong.“You’re amazing.”
