CHAPTER SIX
Gavin
“I figured we’d talk while you’re cognizant and calm,” Doctor Gather said, examining my wounds on the side of my torso. “A lot calmer since she got here. You two dating?”
In my experiences, keeping a close lip was better than spilling. I had been burned too many times to count. People who I thought were friends running to the press the first chance they got. Women I hooked up with selling pictures to the tabloids. Friends I thought were true turning me over for a quick buck. I kept my private life so private I’d stopped having one. It was second nature to keep myself locked up tight, but that’s also how I dealt with life after losing Jasmeen. I kept quiet, and did my best to forget.
My manager and PR team were on my ass constantly about my image. I was the handsome, loveable playboy who killed it on the ice and melted panties during interviews.
But I wasn’t sure there even was a career to protect anymore. Keeping secrets for later didn’t matter. “Not anymore. We’re divorced.”
“Ahh,” he murmured in understanding. He prodded the cast on my leg. “Your breaks were extreme. Your femur broke, and it wasn’t clean. Severed in half and the broken bones tore through your femoral artery and muscle. It was a detrimental surgery and you’re not out of the woods yet. We’re going to keep this part open for the surgery wounds to heal, and once they do, we’ll fix you up with a tighter cast. Right now, I want you to keep your arm and leg still as much as possible. Use your bedpan to defecate and urinate. I know,” he said, when I groaned. “But you need to limit movement. Or you’re going to be in a world of shit.”
“How long until I can start rehabbing my leg and arm?”
He looked away. “You’ll be in a cast for a minimum of six months. After that, rehab could take just as long, if not longer. And that’s only to get you to a normal state. To be back on the ice? I’d give you at least two years before you’re back to where you were. If,” he continued, “the nerve damage in your leg isn’t severe. Otherwise, you’re looking at permanent damage. You will play again,” he promised. There was a but in his words.
“But what team is going to wait that long or take a chance on a player with a bum leg when there’s a twenty-year-old douchebag out there ready to take my place? That what you’re saying, Doc?”
His posture slackened, and he moved on to check my face, avoiding me in a way that hurt. He smelled like latex gloves and mint. “There’s always a miracle, Gavin.”
“I think I used my miracle up when I survived.”
He looked away again. “Become a coach.”
There it was. My career, something I worked my ass off for, something I lost my wife for, something I slaved over, something I gave my life for, was over. The depth of my disappointment didn’t register. I felt numb. I didn’t believe it. I’d walk out of here on two legs, and I’d do the rehab, and I’d be back on the ice in six months tops. But the look on the doctor’s face said it was worse than I thought. That I survived the wreck, but my career didn’t stand a chance.
“Thanks for the talk, Doc.”
“Let’s talk about your other injuries.”
“What other injuries?”
He tapped his head. “The ones in here. I’m having a therapist come here this week. Talk to them, please? Those injuries may seem like they’re better on the back burner. But those will kill your career before your broken bones do.” He stood up and ripped his gloves off.
“When can I go home?”
He thought about it, rubbing his chin as he drug his eyes over my cast-covered leg. “If you do go home, will you hire an in-home nursing staff?”
No. “Of course.”
“You have the money,” he muttered. “I’ll recommend a plan, but after we put your full cast on, there’s no reason why you can’t get well at home. Another week sound good?”
Another week sounded like one tiny pinprick in this hell I’d fallen into. “Sounds good to me.”
“Great. I’ll have some numbers sent in. I’m not releasing you until I’m emailed their schedules,” he warned, leaving my hospital room.
I had my first hockey game when I was nine, a year before I moved in next door beside Jasmeen. It was a little old to start playing, but I’d taken to the ice with ease. Every time I laced up and felt the smooth ice beneath my skates, I felt less unstable. I knew where I was going because I was the one leading myself. It was a tight rink and I knew every inch. Without that… I couldn’t fathom what was about to happen to my life.
Forget the NHL, the fame, the money—my soul was at stake here. My sense of ease. My state of mind. How could I live without the ice?
When the door to my room opened, Jasmeen came in. She looked around nervously and met my eyes for a second before she looked away. Every time she looked at me, she either stared into me, or away from me. She was skittish.
I guess I didn’t blame her. It had been a long time, and even longer since we were in a good place. Damn, I missed that good place. Even when I was in the middle of my success, I missed that good place. There was nothing like it. And nothing since.
She set down two take away containers, and two paper cups of coffee. She also pulled a bottle of pills from her pocket. “Pharmacist said you need to eat a square meal with each pill. I got a breakfast burrito with fried potatoes, and an egg and cheese English muffin sandwich with hash browns. Which one do you want?”
I wanted to see if she still knew me. “Which one do you think I want, Jas?”
She blew out a breath and put her hand on her cheek, staring the food down. “Hash browns give you heartburn. Which doesn’t make sense, since you used to guzzle down fries, but whatever.” She shrugged, giving me a second of eye contact. “Burrito?” she asked.
“Are you dating anyone?” I asked instead, not having a clue where that came from, but now that it was out, I wanted to know.
Her gaze shot to mine, and her big gray eyes widened. She bit her bottom lip and started opening my food. “Not right now,” she answered quietly.
There was something in her tone that made me feel terrible for asking. But there was also something in her answer that made my skin heat with anger. “Not right now? So you were with someone?”
She huffed in annoyance. “This isn’t any of your business, Gavin.”
I rolled my eyes meanly, not in the mood to play fast with the truth. “When it’s you and me, it’s always my fucking business.”
“No, it’s not.” She pulled the tray on the side of my bed over to me and moved the water jug aside to make room. “Do you want cream and sugar in your coffee?”
Obviously, I wasn’t stupid enough to think she hadn’t dated since we divorced. That’s a long time to be lonely. I didn’t want her to be lonely, but I didn’t want her with anyone else either. I unapologetically glared at her as she fixed my coffee. “You know how I like my coffee. You made it for me every morning.”
Her eyes closed. She took a deep breath and then opened them, closing my lid. “Eat your breakfast, Gavin.”
“Why ask when you know, though? Do you want to hear me say it? Light sugar and lots of cream. That make you feel good, Jasmeen?”
Her hands shook as she opened her own food. “Stop talking.”
“You ask because you want my answer,” I continued, a nasty edge to my words. “I want yours too. Who was he?”
She just shook her head and settled on her cot. “Stop, or I’ll start to think you still care about me.”
That. Fucking. Hurt.
The pain from her comment immediately began to simmer like fire in my chest. Right in my shell of a heart. Embers singed the cracks. The cavity felt too light, where my heart should be; there were no weight to the flames.
When my helicopter went down, so did my walls. I was propelled back to a time when we still stood a chance. It was over for her. But I’d been forced to go back. When she was still mine.
Was this all a nightmare? Wanting what I pushed away? We were over. I needed to remember that.
But I forgot. And all I wanted was for her to snap her fingers and make the distance between us go away.
“Of course, I care about you. We weren’t together for a week.” My tone had gone from nasty to dark. “We were together since we were kids. We did everything together. Everything!” I sneered. “First kisses. First drinks. First curfew breaks. First fucks. We did it all.”
She nodded along, but I saw the tears in her eyes. “First heartbreaks. First affairs. First divorces. We sure did have a lot of firsts.” When she looked up, pain and accusations burned in her eyes.
I loved it. I soaked up that pain. I put it there. It was mine.
“That’s right. We did. You were mine from the moment we met.” As I spoke, the edge in my voice softened around our memories. “You were so nerdy. But also so adorable. No tits, braces, hair in a pony-tail. We made out so hard when you got your braces off.”
She covered her face in her hands and sobbed so hard, I felt her pain in my chest too. I didn’t cry—didn’t know how—but I didn’t have to cry to feel. My heart broke years ago. Now it was a shattered mess somewhere in my chest.
“We’re not kids anymore, Gavin.” She held her own face between her hands and peered at me with desperate broken eyes.
We’d never had this conversation. Once she thought I fucked around, she changed the locks and wouldn’t let me back in. Never let me argue. Never let me fight. We talked through our divorce lawyers. Neither of us ever got closer.
“I know.”
“Do you?” she shot, wiping her eyes hectically. She hated crying, always pissed her off. “Stop talking and eat. The sooner you’re strong enough to take care of yourself, I’m out of here. Keep going down memory lane, and that will be a whole lot sooner.”
My throat dried. Doc said I’m going to be in a cast for six months. Torn muscles, rehab, hobbling—she couldn’t walk out on me.
“What are you saying?” I asked carefully.
“I’m saying that I’m here to help you. I’m not here to remanence. I don’t want to remember us. I want to get through now. And I don’t have a problem leaving you here. I didn’t come for me.”
I didn’t think that was entirely true. Her pain said she was still hurting, which meant some part of her cared. A part of her came here for her, or she’d have left days ago.
“I don’t want you to leave, Jasmeen.” The whop, whop of the propellers sounded in my memories, threatening to take her from me. “I won’t bring up the past again. Promise.”
She gauged my authenticity. When she believed me, she scrubbed a hand down her face and returned to her food. “Thank you.”
Yeah, I thought dryly, you’re welcome.
“Even though I don’t understand why you want me here,” she muttered, tearing through her fake McMuffin.
I understood why. That’s all that mattered.