Page 41 of Saving Forever with the Hockey Captain

“Efficient, right?” Keisha laughs. Annette looks between us, amusement softening her face. I add, “You’re going to pass.” Keisha’s smile changes. Less teasing now. More grateful. “Thanks, Cap.”

After she leaves, Annette crosses her arms loosely. “Three days?”

“What?”

“You’ve known her three days, right?”

“Two.” Her mouth opens. Then closes. I enjoy that more than I should. “How many people on this floor have you collected?”

“I don’t collect people.”

“That’s not an answer.”

“I talk to people.”

“You remember their sick spouses, grandsons, certification exams, and dietary preferences.”

“Dietary preferences are important.”

She tilts her head. “Yours?”

“Mushrooms are a crime.”

“I’ll alert the kitchen.”

“Thank you.”

She tries to look stern. It doesn’t work.

***

Annette stands beside the bed, silent again, Mouth open and no words forming. This time I don’t ask what she’s thinking, I just smirk a tiny bit. Can’t help it. Perfect timing, I think.

I’m starting to understand that Annette Whittier doesn’t always speak the moment a thought arrives.

She lets it settle first. Like some moments deserve a place to land.

Finally, she says, “They all like you.”

“I’m injured. They’re being polite.”

“No.” She glances toward the doorway. “They like you because you notice them.”

I don’t have a clever answer for that, so, I pick up my fork instead. The eggs are lukewarm. The toast is dry. And the coffee tastes like someone described coffee to warm water.

Still...

No mushrooms. Small victory.

Annette returns to the computer, but every so often I catch her looking back at me.

Not like I’m a chart. Not like I’m a headline. Like she’s trying to understand the man beneath everything others sees first.

And for reasons I’m not ready to examine...

I don’t mind.

***