Page 71 of Saving Forever with the Hockey Captain

“He was injured. Vulnerable. Away from home. That changes how people connect.”

“It can.”

“And I was part of his care team.”

“You were.”

“I am starting a sports rehabilitation rotation next week. I cannot be distracted by a patient I may never see again.”

Keisha lifts one eyebrow. “May never see again?”

I look away. She knows. Of course she knows. Everyone on the floor seems to know everything within twenty minutes, no matter how quietly the information is shared.

“My placement will probably be at Walker Rehabilitation,” I sigh.

“The facility in Frostholm.”

“Yes.”

“The one Jamie Walker is likely to use.”

“There are other facilities.”

“Are there?”

“Yes.”

“Name one.”

I glare at her. Keisha laughs. “All right. I’ll stop.”

“You will not.”

“No. But I’ll pretend for thirty seconds.”

The possibility has been sitting in the back of my mind since I learned about the rotation. I tried not to think about it when I told Jamie. Tried not to notice how his whole face changed when he realized we might see each other again.

He smiled. It wasn’t the careful smile he used when pain was climbing. Not the dry, crooked one that usually came before a joke. A real smile.

Broad enough that I felt it somewhere beneath my ribs. Which is ridiculous.

“He seemed happy about it,” Keisha says.

I narrow my eyes. “Were you listening outside the ambulance bay?”

“No. But you came back inside looking like somebody had handed you good news and told you not to open it yet.”

I stare at her. “That is alarmingly specific.”

“I’m an excellent nurse.”

“You are nosy.”

“Also, true.”

She reaches across the table and taps one finger against my coffee cup. “You don’t have to decide what it means today.”

“It does not mean anything.”