Total pages in book: 96
Estimated words: 91213 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 456(@200wpm)___ 365(@250wpm)___ 304(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 91213 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 456(@200wpm)___ 365(@250wpm)___ 304(@300wpm)
Jesus, the sympathy in her voice pierces through me deep. She’s horrified by their reaction, and yet it’s exactly what I expected. It confirmed to me what I had thought all along.
It’s better to rely only on yourself, because people have the brutal capacity to shred you to pieces even in their neglect of you.
“That’s okay,” I tell her gently, more for her feelings than for anything. “They can call me on my cell phone when they get a chance.”
“Of course, I’ll tell them,” she gushes, then adds, “I’m sure if there’s anything you need, they’ll be right on it.”
I can’t help the laugh that pops out of my mouth. I want to disabuse her of that, but figure she must be new to their employ, and why even bother her with the cold hard facts about my parents?
“Thank you,” I say quietly, then disconnect the phone.
I think for a few more moments before tossing my phone onto my lap. I see the nurse walking by the open curtain of the ER bay I’m in and call out to her.
She stops, pokes her head in to look at me. “What can I do for you?”
“Do I have to stay overnight if I don’t want to?” I ask her.
Her eyebrows draw inward and she steps into the room. “You can leave, but I wouldn’t advise it. It’s best for you to stay the night and let us keep an eye on you.”
“Unless you tell me I’m in mortal danger, I think I’d like to go home,” I tell her with my chin raised.
“You’d have to check out against medical advice,” she says.
“I’m aware of that,” I return calmly. “But I think I’d just be more comfortable resting at home.”
“Do you have someone who could stay with you?” she presses.
I lie to her face so I don’t have to continue the conversation. “Yes. My friend who was just here. If you can start to work up the discharge papers for me, I’ll call her to come back.”
“Okay, then,” she says, but I can tell she’s not happy with me.
It takes almost two hours to get the paperwork done, and I think it’s because they were hoping I’d get frustrated and just stay. I assure them I have a ride, and God bless the Uber app, there’s a car waiting for me when the nurse wheels me out of the emergency room doors.
The driver’s nice and actually helps me all the way to my apartment door. I give him a tip, which he doesn’t refuse, and I’m glad.
Then I walk into my room, crawl into my bed, and fall asleep.
Chapter 25
Lucas
“You know your brooding is getting a little pathetic,” Max says.
I don’t even look at him, preferring instead to look out the airplane window as we descend into Newark. My thoughts have been dark and bitter, all because of Stephanie. I can’t go back and I can’t go forward. I’m stuck in hell and miserable as fuck.
I’ve been a prick to my family and teammates, but they’ve given me a pretty wide berth lately, so I’m left gloriously alone most of the time. I like to imagine it’s my penance for the crappy way I left things with Stephanie.
“Why the hell you just don’t go see her is beyond me,” Max continues. I don’t even lift my temple off the window, where it’s been resting most of the plane ride. “You can totally fix this if you just try.”
How do I fix what I said? How will I ever convince her that I think she’d make a fantastic mother, when my last words to her were that she’d fuck up our child? And really, why would I even bother trying when she made it clear she’s the one who wanted space? Stephanie is the one who called things off, and yet here I am wallowing in misery.
“Lucas,” Max says sharply, and I finally lift my head off the window to look at him. “You’ve got to snap out of this. Fix it or move on, but do something, for Christ’s sake.”
“What do you care?” I ask him softly. “I’m playing the best hockey of my life. Apparently channeling my bad temperament into the game is making me a better player.”
“The play-offs are what’s making you better, moron,” he says with the deepest affection he can muster.
This much is true. There are only two things that help to dull my thoughts about Stephanie, and that’s getting drunk and play-off hockey. Since that disastrous night last week where I got shit-faced drunk and walked away from an easy lay, I decided I really should just focus on hockey. That was the best thing I could do, because this was the Stanley Cup play-offs and I didn’t need to be distracted. So I funneled my pent-up frustrations into the game, choosing to focus on something that I could be successful at to make me feel better about myself.