Page 59 of Puck Your Charity

I push the car door open and step out into the dimly lit garage. I lock the vehicle and walk toward the elevator doors. I have a debt to pay, and I intend to pay it today. No audience or expectations. Just me putting in the work.

The elevator doors slide open on the fourth floor, revealing the linoleum tiles of the pediatric ward. The scent of bleach and rubbing alcohol immediately hits my nose, while the steady, rhythmic beeping of medical monitors echoes from the open doorways. Nurses walk past without a second glance.

Panic claws at my throat, tightening my chest. This sterile environment tries to pull me right back into the past.

I plant my boots firmly on the floor to stop the spiral.

Closing my eyes helps shift my focus entirely to the present moment.I’m twenty-six years old. I stand in a hospital to visit a fan. Loren is gone, but the kids in these rooms are still fighting. The past can't hurt me here.

A slow, measured breath pushes the panic down into a locked box in my mind.

The walls finally stop shrinking. The air feels breathable again. I push my shoulders back and start the walk down the hallway.

Bright yellow suns and cartoon animals painted on the walls blur past as the room numbers count up. Bypassing the nurses' station requires keeping my head down and avoiding eye contact.

Room 414 sits at the end of the hall.

The wooden door rests wide open, framing the scene inside. Sam sits propped up against a pile of pillows, wearing the same gold and black Iron Wolves beanie on his bald head. His thin hands grip a Nintendo Switch, thumbs flying across the buttons. Clear IV tubes run from a loud pump on a metal pole straight into a port on his arm. A woman I don't recognize sits in a plastic chair near the window, tapping away on her phone.

Looking at the tubes and the sick kid spikes an urge to run for a split second, but crushing the instinct takes almost no effort this time.

I knock my knuckles against the wooden doorframe.

Sam pauses his game. He looks up, his hazel eyes going wide as his jaw drops open in disbelief.

"Victor Sterling? You actually came back!" Sam grips the gaming console against his chest, a huge smile breaking across his face.

"Hey, Sam." I step into the room, leaving my ego out in the hallway. I keep my pitch low so it doesn't echo in the small space.

The woman near the window stands up and slips her phone into her pocket. Surprise flashes across her face as she steps forward, offering a warm but hesitant smile.

"Hi, I'm Elena." She extends a hand. "I'm Sam's mom. I wasn't here the other day, but Sam talks about you constantly."

"Nice to meet you, Elena." I shake her hand gently. "I'm Victor."

She offers a quiet, appreciative nod and sits back down by the window, letting us talk.

I walk over to the spare plastic chair in the corner and fold my tall frame into the cramped seat. Leaning forward, my elbows rest on my knees.

"Olive said you went to your car to get something." Sam stares at me.

A fresh wave of guilt twists in my gut. Olive lied to protect him. She covered for me even when she hated my guts, putting this kid's feelings above her own righteous anger.

"Olive is a very kind person." I look the kid right in the eye. "But she lied to protect your feelings. I didn't go to my car to get something. I got scared, and I ran away."

Sam tilts his head, confused. "You got scared? You fight giant defensemen on the ice. You aren't scared of anything."

"Everyone gets scared sometimes." A small, self-deprecating smile touches my lips. "Hospitals remind me of a sad time in my life. When I walked into your room a couple of weeks ago, it brought back some bad memories. I panicked. But leaving you was wrong. You didn't do anything to cause it. I acted like a coward, and I'm incredibly sorry I let you down."

Sam studies my face, looking for the lie. He sees the truth.

A bright, gap-toothed smile stretches across his face. "It's okay. I forgive you. Finn gave me a signed jersey, so the day was still awesome."

The forgiveness lifts a weight off my chest. Breathing gets easier as the knot in my stomach untwists.

Sam holds out one of the red joycon controllers. "Do you play Mario Kart?"

Staring at the small plastic controller, the realization hits that playing a video game hasn't happened in a decade. Free time usually involves analyzing game footage, working out, or attending charity galas. Fun ranks zero on my list of priorities.