Total pages in book: 153
Estimated words: 147021 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 735(@200wpm)___ 588(@250wpm)___ 490(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 147021 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 735(@200wpm)___ 588(@250wpm)___ 490(@300wpm)
I must doze off again, because when I open my eyes, it’s dark outside, and it’s closing in on dinnertime. The meds are working, and the pain is manageable. I sit up and grab my crutches, carefully making my way to the bathroom to relieve myself before I go to the living room.
Aurora is sitting cross-legged on the couch, her hair pulled up into a short ponytail on top of her head with her scrunchie. The one she reclaimed. Postie is stretched along the back of the couch behind her, and Malone is snuggled up beside her. She looks like she belongs here.
“Hey, hi.” She sets her laptop aside, stands, and runs her hands down her thighs. “How are you feeling?”
“Okay. Better now that the pain is under control again.” I don’t understand how it can feel simultaneously right and wrong to have her here.
“Can I make you something to eat? Rix and I made that breakfast hash you love. I know it’s dinner, but there’s never a bad time for breakfast hash, and it might be easier on your stomach.”
“That’d be great. I can help.”
“Just keep me company or hang out on the couch with the boys.”
“I need to stand for a bit. I’ve been lying down for a lot of hours.”
I follow her to the kitchen and lean against the counter while she pulls out a pan and the container of breakfast hash. She’s so fucking beautiful. And smart and talented. Instead of being on a date with some guy in her class, she’s here, taking care of me. I doubt she realizes what an honor it is to be wanted by someone like her, even if it shouldn’t—can’t—go anywhere.
“My dad said the doctors are hopeful,” she says.
I blow out a breath. “We’ll see how rehab goes.”
She adjusts the temperature on the burner and turns to face me. “I’m so sorry, Hollis. I wanted anything but this for you.”
“Me too. I might have to start looking at what’s next, and I thought I had more time.”
“Are you worried about how this injury will affect you in the long run?” She pulls the scrunchie free and runs her fingers through her hair. “A lifetime of pain management for a couple more years on the ice is a hard tradeoff.”
“Not a lot of people understand this the way you do.” Most young players don’t even realize how hard this job is on a body. Even without serious injuries, it’s intensely physical. But with them… I can’t afford another knee surgery. Two inside a year will have a lifelong impact. And then there was that concussion. Sure, it was mild—this time.
“I’ve seen the way injuries take players out of the game,” Aurora says, shaking her head. “Especially if they try to rush recovery. Look at Alex Waters.” She turns back to the hash, flipping it and adjusting the heat again. “He was at the top of his game. He could have gotten back in after that concussion, but if he’d taken another hit like that…”
“He’s a legend. But leaving the game when he did was a smart move.” Waters shocked the hockey world when he hung up his skates. I watched his interviews afterward, talking about the impact of his concussion and how his priorities had shifted. He had a wife and a family. I don’t have that yet, but I want it. Maybe more than I’m willing to admit. Especially in current company. “Another concussion could have changed his life forever. I don’t want to risk not being able to walk so I can play a few more seasons, but I don’t want to give up my career prematurely either. It’s a real mindfuck, that’s for sure.”
Aurora’s sad smile is full of empathy. “One day at a time, though, right?”
“That’s all I can do.”
Aurora asks me to pass her the butter, and I struggle not to step in and help just so I can touch her. I make an excuse about my knee aching and move to the living room while Aurora finishes the hash. Malone, being the weirdo he is, starts kneading the blanket beside me, and then the air hump starts. He’s fixed, but he makes love to that blanket every night. I ignore him and turn on the TV for background noise.
Aurora brings over a lap tray when the food is ready and nudges Malone out of the way. He grudgingly curls up with his back to us on the chair across from the couch. Our fingers brush as she passes me silverware and again, I’m struck by how different it is this time around. How much I like being taken care of by her, how much I wish I could do the same. I ask her about school while I eat. I want to know what happened with that Jameson kid, but bringing that up is inviting more problems. I’ve given her enough mixed signals today.