AllFreeNovel
Share Us
How could I fix any of this?
Leaning my head back against the seat, I stared at the ceiling. I wanted to be with Wy, but it seemed like I was causing him a lot of fucking trouble. Maybe everything would be better if we went back to being frenemies. My heart hurt at the thought, and with a sigh, I got out of the car and headed toward the hospital. I stopped right outside the ER door.
I couldn’t shake the feeling that I was somehow to blame for every bit of this.
Maybe the way he’d been acting was his attempt at breaking up with me? My fingers and toes tingled and someone behind me went around to go inside. Shit, maybe he didn’t want me to do anything. Maybe he really did want me to go away. I rubbed my middle and stared around, then went inside, feeling even worse.
22
WYSTAN
I dideverything I could to avoid Atlas’s gaze, but that didn’t come without consequences. Guilt scraped my insides, making it harder to breathe. Shit, that might have to do with the doctor pressing down on my knee and rotating it gently. I winced, biting my bottom lip as the pain shot through my leg and up my hip. Flexing my fingers, I resisted the urge to reach out to Atlas and grab his hand for comfort.
To my surprise, as though he could read my mind, Atlas grasped my hand in his and interlocked our fingers. He stared at me, silently asking if this was okay, and instead of answering, I merely looked away. I didn’t pull my hand free, though, happy to have the touch.
Mom stood on the other side of the bed focused on the doctor as he continued to hum. “What do you think, Doctor?”
“I believe there’s no permanent damage. The knee’s tender but no more than it should be at this point.” He finally raised his gaze to stare at me. “After a surgery like yours, you should be taking it easy. Have you been doing your physical therapy? We don’t want stiffness to set in.”
I nodded automatically. I’d been seeing a physical therapist since I’d gotten out of the hospital, and while he was a pretty awesome guy, the exercises he’d given me were a pain in the ass. Between Atlas and Mom, though, I didn’t get a choice about doing them. They made me.
“Yes, sir,” I answered.
Atlas gave me a long look, which I saw out of the corner of my eye, but I continued to ignore him.
“Can I talk to you out here?” The doctor pointed toward the door and glanced at Mom. Together they moseyed away from us. I watched them go, awkward about being left alone with Atlas. We hadn’t said much while we’d waited for the doctor, other than niceties that had Mom eyeing us suspiciously. I wasn’t sure if I was ready to talk to him about anything else yet.
I didn’t have much of a choice, though.
“Are you really considering MCU?” Atlas’s quiet tone was a wrecking ball smashing through the silence. I took a shuddery breath. “Because they don’t care about you, Birdy. McAvoy is trying to mess with your head.”
“Is he?” I asked noncommittally. “It didn’t seem like it. He was genuine.”
“You know he’s gay, right?” Atlas tried again.
I frowned at him. “What does that have to do with anything?”
“He was flirting with you. He wants in your pants.”
I laughed then, too loudly for an emergency room of a hospital. A nurse glared at me as she walked past my open door, and I held up my palm in apology before she left again. When she was gone, I turned back to Atlas. “Are you serious? You don’t think him approaching me has anything to do with the fact that I’m a fucking good player?”
“That isn’t what I’m saying.” He shuffled forward on his chair and his grip on my hand tightened. I thought about yanking away from him but didn’t because I enjoyed his touch. “Fuck. You’re a fucking awesome skater. You’re a pro, Birdy, and you can take it all the way. But you can’t go making mistakes like pushing yourself out on the ice too early. McAvoy is risking your future career because he either wants in your pants or he’s trying to mess with the team.”
I shook my head. “But it has to be one of those choices? He can’t want me because I’m a good hockey player, right?”
“Shit. Stop putting words into my mouth.” He glared.
“That’s whatyou’resaying. You said McAvoy either wants to fuck me or fuck with our team, so he can’t possibly want me for my skating skills, right?” I clenched my eyes shut and fell back hard against the bed. I exhaled harshly through my nose. “Why are you even here, Atlas? You don’t give a damn about me.”
“That isn’t true. I fucking like you a lot, all right?” He finally stood and shifted in closer, and I stared up at him with confusion. “And maybe that’s why I hate McAvoy being anywhere near you. You’re mine. You’re ours, I mean. The team’s.” The stuttering was new. I took a moment to study the wince of embarrassment that swept across his face. He took a deep breath. “Listen, I know you’re pissed about not being able to play, but trust me, Coach or the doctors wouldn’t do it unless they had to. You know Coach. He stopped playing hockey for the Blizzards because of an injury. He’s trying to make sure that doesn’t happen permanently to you. We can all tell he’s worried. He told us we needed to support you however we can.”
My shoulders slumped and I stared at the shitty blue walls. This ER was a prison.
He sat down again and dragged the chair closer, gripping my hand as tightly as he’d been doing since he’d taken it. “Birdy, I can’t pretend to know how frustrating it is, but it’s better to take one season off than risk your entire career.”
In the depths of my brain, I knew he was right, but it was difficult to accept. Hockey had become my life after Dad left us. Washing out of figure skating in the aftermath because my head had gotten messed up had taken its toll, but everything I did back then reminded me of Dad. Hockey gave me a chance to work my anger out, and I’d never expected to be any good at it, even if I had played some as a kid. Now, it was all I knew and all I wanted. It had become my therapy. How was I supposed to go a season without playing?
I swallowed, the thoughts punching through my mind until it became too much. Sighing, I glanced at him and considered telling him about my past. I didn’t think Atlas particularly cared, yet part of me also thought I was wrong.
