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I don’t have a chance to introduce myself before another set of elevator doors opens, allowing Coach Kozak to burst into the hallway, looking like he’s close to exploding as he rushes down the hall. But he notices Ash’s family and slows down, talking quietly with them before noticing me sitting in a chair outside Ash’s room.
I haven’t gone in. I’m not sure why, but somehow it doesn’t feel like it’s my place to be there right now. His family should see him first, if not the coach. I don’t think his parents even notice me as they pass by, too busy worrying about their son. I wish there were something I could say to ease what they must be going through, but I get the feeling any words would come out flat and useless. I mean, what would I say, anyway? I’m sorry your son might never play hockey again? Hey, at least he didn’t end up paralyzed? Even thinking those words makes me cringe.
“Doc.” The coach places a hand on my shoulder. “How are you holding up?”
“Me? I’m fine. I’m not the one in the hospital bed right now.”
“I spoke to the doctor downstairs, the one who treated him when he first came in.”
That would explain the sorrow etched in every line of his face. “So you know what he thinks.”
“At the end of the day, it doesn’t matter what he thinks. It matters what Ash thinks he’s capable of. Mind over matter, right?”
Because it seems like he needs me to, I give him as sincere a smile as I can muster. “You’re right. There are times when all the physical therapy in the world can’t help as much as a positive mindset.”
“Of course! Who knows what might happen? He’s a strong, determined kid. He’ll be just fine.” It’s sweet of him to be so positive, but part of me wonders if he’s not trying to convince himself along with me. He needs to. Otherwise, he just watched the end of a talented player’s career.
“Are you alright?” I ask him.
“Me? I’m fine.” When I lift an eyebrow, he lowers his gaze to the floor. “That’s not an easy thing to watch. And the first thing I thought was, I was just screaming at him about getting penalized. I wondered if that was the last time I ever spoke to him. I regretted it.”
“He started a fight out there,” I remind him gently. “It was sort of your job to holler at him.”
“Just the same. That’s never how you want to end things with a person.”
Do not cry. Not here. Not now. For the second time today, I dig my nails into my palm hard enough to hurt, but it helps take my mind off the emotion clogging my throat. We didn’t end things so well, either, did we? He’s probably still furious with me – at least, he was back when it mattered. An accident like his has a way of rearranging a person’s priorities.
Over the next ten or fifteen minutes, the hallway starts to fill with other team members. My heart hurts when I see Ryder and Soren among them, and it takes pretty much all of my control not to throw myself into their arms and cry my heart out. Not the time, not the place. Besides, I doubt they would appreciate it much. We haven’t exactly settled anything, after all.
The only thing I can do is sit here, feeling lost and scared and full of regret. That’s what hurts the most. All the regret. All thewhat if’srolling through my head one after another like train cars.
It’s Soren who finally approaches me, scuffing his toe against the tile floor and looking nervous. “Hi,” he murmurs quietly enough that only I hear him over the mixed conversation going on all around us.
“Hi.”
“How are you?”
Funny how it’s a matter of reflex, opening my mouth to tell him I’m fine. Why wouldn’t I be? Ash will be fine after some therapy. Life will go on.
But when I open my mouth to rattle this off, the only thing that comes out is a choked sob that bursts out of me all at once, probably because I’ve been holding it back all this time.
“Come with me.” There’s no room for argument once he takes me by the hand and pulls me to my feet. “You could probably use some air.” He leads me to the elevator, and once we reach the ground floor, he directs me outside toward a little garden where a small fountain gurgles peacefully. Something about the tranquility of it all helps me release a little of the tension that has me in its grip. I sit down with a sigh, folding my hands in my lap and staring down at them.
“How are you, really?” he asks, sitting on the other side of the bench.
“I’m sad,” I admit. “I’m worried. I am…”Sorry. I am so, so sorry. This isn’t the time for that, and I don’t deserve his comfort right now. Not when his best friend is lying in a bed. He is the one who needs understanding and compassion, not me.
“I’m worried, too. That was some scary shit out there today.”
“I felt so helpless.”
“I know. Like watching a nightmare come to life, and there’s nothing you can do to stop it.”
“Exactly. And then they put him on the stretcher…” I shiver at the memory, and he reaches out to pat my shoulder. It’s a little awkward, but it feels nice. Even a simple touch like that.
“There have been guys who’ve come back from much worse than this, sometimes even better than they were before. Let’s not count him out just yet.”
“Oh, I know. I do. I just wish it didn’t have to be like this.”
