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“I’ve never actually hunted elk, I’ve never actually pulled a trigger and killed an elk. And yet I scouted them for Gramps. And the cosmic force above made one wander out into the road I was on one snowy night in Canada. Boom! It was all over for the elk—and for me.”
This was a peculiar rage she’d never heard from him. First, Scout didn’t normally get enraged. Second…
“You told me that accident was not nearly as bad as the pictures in the papers and on the ‘net made it out to be. A broken wrist, a cracked knee-cap. Bumps and bruises. You were adamant about me not flying in.”
“You would’ve been coming in from New Zealand, Ciara.”
“And you said that you’d be out of the hospital by the time I got to Canada. You lied, didn’t you?”
He paced. Shoved his hand through his hair.
“How bad was it?” she implored. “Because even your mother assured me it wasn’t horrific. She said you told her not to visit as well. You didn’t want anyone to visit, did you? Not because you’d ‘be out of town by then’ and onto your next game, but because you didn’t want anyone to know how bad it was. Am I right?”
“Of course you’re fucking right.”
“Scout!” She threw off the blanket and marched toward him. Cutting off his pacing. “That’s a really crappy thing to do to people who care about you.”
“That’s not exactly how I saw it. I didn’t want anyone freaking out or worrying when I didn’t know for sure what we were dealing with. It was a head injury, Ciara. The first twenty-four hours, I couldn’t see because of all the swelling. I was assured that would change and I’d get my eyesight back once the inflammation was under control. But for twenty-four hours I was just—”
She gasped. “You were blind?”
&nb
sp; He dragged a hand down his face. He’d actually gone a bit pale. “Yeah. And it was scary as hell.”
“Scout.” Tears sprang to her eyes. “Jesus. That is precisely why I should have been there. Why your family should have been there with you.”
“You don’t get it, sweetheart.” He stepped around her. Resumed his agitated stalking. “I’ve pretty much been on my own since I was a kid. I deal with shit on my own as best as I can. That’s who I am.”
“But not everything—”
“Hey,” he did an about-face and glared at her. “Do you tell me everything?”
She swallowed hard. Okay, he had her on that one. There was the matter of being homeless and jobless at the moment. Not having a clue as to where she was supposed to or would land.
He pushed a bit more. “It’s not like you told me you loved me before last night, right? How long have you been in love with me, Ciara? Because I’m pretty sure it didn’t just happen over pizza and beers at Tilda’s.”
“I—” She shut her mouth. Shook her head. This was getting turned around. Not that he didn’t have just cause for turning it around, but she said, “We’re not talking about me right now, Scout. We’re talking about you. What made you decide to coach?”
“It was the only choice I had,” he ground out. “I tried to play after the accident. I was even cleared for a couple of games. But there were complications and so I was privately reevaluated and needed a second brain surgery. The result…” He let out a sharp groan. Turned away. “The result was a blind spot in my left eye. Nothing significant—unless you’re a hockey player.”
Her heart wrenched. She opened her mouth to speak but no words came out.
He said, “I have headaches, too. A triple-combination of headaches that all have very scientific names but all that really matters is that when they hit—I’m totally done for.”
Dread slithered through her veins. “What do you mean?”
“Last night, Ciara,” he said in a pointed tone, “I got body-checked by one.”
“In the middle of the night.”
“Yeah.”
She rested a hand on his upper arm. “Why didn’t you just tell me?”
“Because.” He sighed with notable exasperation. “It’s not like waking up with some pinging in your head. It’s…excruciating. Like… Worse than anything I’ve ever known.”
She gaped.
