Page 32 of Saving Forever with the Hockey Captain

By the time I swing my legs over the edge of the mattress, my ribs are already negotiating a surrender.

I sit still. Head down. Waiting for the room to settle. Nobody tells you how exhausting sitting up can become.After a minute, I plant both feet carefully on the floor. Cold tile presses through the thin hospital socks.

One hand grips the bed rail. I count to three, then stand.

Bad decision.

The room tilts hard enough that I grab the rail before my knees have a chance to argue.

I close my eyes. Breathe. Slowly. Not because I'm afraid of falling, but because if I breathe too quickly, my ribs remind me exactly why that's a terrible idea.

The dizziness eases a little. Good enough. One careful step. Then another. The bathroom suddenly feels much farther away than it looked from the bed. Ridiculous! Yesterday I played nearly twenty-four minutes against one of the fastest teams in the league.

Today...

I'm measuring success in footsteps.

By the time I reach the doorway, sweat has gathered across the back of my neck.

I rest one hand against the frame for a second, just a second. Nobody's keeping score.

Five minutes later I make the slow trip back.

Every muscle in my body seems determined to remind me that I've recently lost an argument with six-foot-four and two hundred thirty pounds of professional hockey player.

The mattress comes into view. Almost there. I lower myself carefully onto the edge of the bed. Too quickly. Pain flashes through my shoulder. I suck in a breath and immediately regret it.

The room is quiet again.

I lean forward, forearms resting on my thighs, waiting for everything to stop hurting quite so much.

The door opens softly behind me. "I had a feeling I'd find you exactly like this."

I look up.

Annette stands in the doorway; a tablet tucked beneath her arm. Her eyes move once around the room. The unmade bed. The open bathroom door. The untouched call button laying exactly where I left it.

She doesn't sigh. She doesn't lecture. She simply walks inside.

"How'd it go?"

I can't help it. I laugh. It hurts. Which somehow makes it funnier. "I've had better mornings."

A smile tugs gently at the corner of her mouth. "I remember."

She sets steps closer. "You made it."

"Barely."

"But you made it."

I nod once, then glance toward the call button. "I didn't want to bother anybody."

For the first time since I've met her, she doesn't answer immediately. She studies me for a moment instead, long enough that I begin wondering if I've said something foolish.

Finally, she speaks. "You know what I see?"

I shake my head.