Forever Pucked (12 page)

Sidney stops at the emergency entrance, and we pile out. I stumble-run through the doors. It’s busy and bright and loud. Everything is moving too fast and too slow.

“Vi, take a breath, honey.” My mom’s hand is on my back.

“I just want to see him.” I search for Sunny’s blond hair, but there are too many people, and I can’t seem to focus on any one thing.

My mom guides me to intake, which is where we find Sunny. She’s not in much better shape than me.

“Did he wake up?” I ask.

Her bottom lip trembles. “He made a noise when they put in the IV, but that was it. He’s had a concussion before, but he’s never been out like this…”

She doesn’t have to say more. We both start crying again, because we just don’t know.

There are no answers, and all the questions keep piling up, burying me until I feel like I’m going to suffocate under the pressure.

With Alex’s medical information already passed over, we don’t have to go through the process of filling out forms. A very sweet nurse takes us to a private waiting room while Alex is assessed by a team of doctors. He’ll have the very best care, but it doesn’t provide much in the way of solace when none of us has any idea of how severe the damage is.

My knees feel weak, so I sink in to one of the chairs. “I don’t even understand what happened. One minute he was fine and the next…what if…” I don’t finish the statement. I can’t think about what ifs. My mom sits beside me, and Charlene’s on my other side. Sunny and Lily are huddled together across the room.

“So all he did was make a noise? He didn’t open his eyes? Not even for a second? Did the ambulance attendants say anything?” I throw too many questions at Sunny, grasping for anything positive to hold on to in this nightmare of a situation.

Sunny rubs her forehead. “It was just the noise. Um, they think maybe he has a broken collarbone and possibly a dislocated shoulder. He could have a compressed spine? They’re worried about fractures. And trauma to the brain. They said something about that.”

None of what she says makes me feel any better. “But he was wearing a helmet. His brain should be fine. He should be fine. He has to be fine.” The words spill out in stilted streams as I try to reassure myself.

“He’s had injuries before.” That’s all Sunny says, because what else can she tell me?

I nod. The words are all stuck, and I can’t seem to speak any more. I look down at my hands. They’re still shaking. I straighten my engagement ring, my super-ostentatious, giant diamond gleaming in the horrible fluorescent lights. It’s exactly the kind of ring I expected from Alex: excessive and beautiful and so much more than I deserve. I won’t allow myself to consider what it means if he’s not okay.

Twenty-five minutes later, which seems like a million years in hospital waiting time, Buck shows up in our little waiting room followed by Randy, Darren, Lance, and the coach. Their giant frames fill the room, their deep, male voices low as they ask the same questions I have.

Sunny practically falls into Buck’s arms, her sobs shaking them both. He folds her into his lap and strokes her hair, all soft and sweet—so different from the stepbrother I knew less than a year ago. Randy goes to Lily, crouching in front of her, skimming her cheeks with his fingertips. Lily’s like family. Alex is her brother even though they’re not related, so she’s almost as upset as Sunny, but she’s handling things a lot better than me.

I’m surprised when Darren doesn’t automatically go to Charlene. Instead he comes to me. I stand. My mouth is dry, my palms are sweaty, and when he hugs me, I almost fall apart all over again. He isn’t the person I need right now, but it’s better than watching all the people I love care for each other, reminding me what’s at stake.

When he lets me go, Lance steps up beside him. His face is bruised, and his lip is bloody. He has a fly bandage holding a split in his eyebrow together. I glance down to where his thumbs are hooked into the pockets of his jeans. His knuckles are wrapped, but blood seeps through them, red spreading unevenly across the white.

“Have you seen a doctor? You should see a doctor.”

His half-smile is distorted by the swelling on the right side of his face. “Aye, I’ll be fine. It’s just surface wounds.”

In this moment I hear clearly the accent that’s hidden most of the time.

I raise a trembling hand to his face. His eyes flare, but he doesn’t move away when I press my palm to his cheek. “Thank you for fucking up Cockburn.”

“It was worth the five-game suspension.”

A laugh bubbles up in me, but it breaks free as a hysterical sob. Lance—the hardest of these boys, the one I know the least about, but who’s clearly loyal beyond comprehension—pulls me into a hug.

“I don’t understand what’s going on,” I mumble into his hard chest.

“He’s tough. He’ll make it out of this.”

I’m just concerned about the condition he’ll be in when he comes out the other side.

-&-

It feels like we wait forever for news. Sidney has disappeared twice to check in with a nurse. Ten minutes after he returns with no news, Darren gets up and leaves the room. I look at Charlene.

“He’ll get answers,” she assures me.

I don’t see how he’ll be able to make things happen when Sidney hasn’t, but the anxiety of nothingness is the worst torture.

A nervous nurse none of us has seen before appears in the doorway with Darren behind her soon after. She looks over her shoulder, and he smiles. Now, Darren is a nice-looking guy. His features are angular, almost severe, but when he smiles, everything softens and he’s stunning.

The nurse turns back to us and we wait. “Alex is responding—”

I’m out of my chair before she can finish her sentence. “He’s awake? Can I see him? I need to see him.”

She puts her hand up, her smile patient and practiced. I want to punch her sweet face.

“He’s awake, but the doctors need to finish setting his shoulder. As soon as they’re done, someone will be out to see you.”

“Is his shoulder broken? Is he okay?”

“The doctor will have the results of his X-rays and his CT scan shortly.”

I hate the non-answers almost as much as I hate the waiting. Darren stops her before she can walk away and murmurs something. Instead of heading back toward the emergency entrance, she takes off in the other direction.

“She’s getting a doctor now,” he says softly. But then that’s the only way Darren ever speaks. Softly. He’s deliberate with his words. He’s usually more of an observer. I don’t know why I’m noticing this, or why it matters.

Fifteen minutes later, a doctor comes in holding a clipboard. Alex has what he says is a “moderate to severe” concussion. He was unconscious for more than a few minutes, which is a big concern. He’s also experiencing some loss of memory, the doctors call it retrograde amnesia, which is apparently not unusual for this kind of head trauma.

The phrase
head trauma
causes more tears. My mom puts her arm around my shoulder, but I’m numb, so I can’t feel anything other than bubbling panic.

The doctor keeps talking. Half of it is medical jargon, but I get the important parts. He sustained no injury to his spinal cord, thank Christ. The thought of Alex having to spend the rest of his life in a wheelchair starts a whole new round of tears. I can’t get a handle on myself at all. I should be embarrassed, but I can’t find it in me to care that I’m such a mess.

Alex has a dislocated shoulder, a fractured collarbone, and a cracked rib. It could’ve been so much worse. He’s lucid, but on pain medication, and he experienced confusion and some aggression when he initially came around.

“Aggression?” I ask.

“It’s not uncommon after a concussion like this one. Is he usually an aggressive person?”

“No,” I say.

“Sometimes,” Darren says at the same time.

We look at each other.

“Not outside of hockey,” I say.

Buck coughs.

“Or when it comes to me, or his sister.” I wring my hands as more than one throat clears. “Okay, sometimes he’s aggressive. But only when he’s really, really upset.” God. I sound so defensive. “He’s never aggressive with me. Ever.”

“Locker room,” Buck mutters.

I spin to face him. “That was hot sex! I’ve never been afraid of him.”

The room is silent apart from the doctor tapping his pen on his clipboard.

Buck sighs. “I’m not trying to be a jerk, Vi. I’m just saying, Alex has a history of aggressive behavior, and while it’s generally directed at someone other than you, it’s important to remember he’s been concussed, and sometimes people get weird and act in ways they usually don’t after something like that. Right, doc?”

The doctor’s eyes shift between me and Buck, and then he nods. “Sometimes the trauma to the brain causes atypical behavior. We’ll observe him closely for the next forty-eight hours and decide if we need to monitor him longer. There are additional tests scheduled for the morning.”

“What kind of tests?”

“Just standard tests after this kind of injury.”

I know what he’s saying between those words. He wants to make sure Alex’s brain is working properly, that he hasn’t sustained lasting brain damage. Beyond being an amazing hockey player, Alex has a gorgeous, intelligent mind. Thinking about that part of him being affected by this is too scary.

The doctor will let us see him, but we’re only allowed in two at a time, and the visits must be brief. Sunny and I go first.

“He’s no longer aggressive, but he’s experiencing some difficulty with memory and some confusion, so be patient with him.”

If Alex can’t remember me, it’ll be like that Adam Sandler movie where they go on their first date over and over.

I take Sunny’s hand when the doctor opens the door, because I’m relieved and terrified at the same time. He’s okay, but not.

“You have visitors, Alex.”

I’m unprepared when he comes into view. The lights are dim, but I can still see the damage, and that’s only the obvious stuff. He has black shadows under his eyes and the bridge of his nose is stitched and taped. His arm is braced and his shoulder wrapped. I can see it under the hospital-issue gown. His eyes are tired and glassy, medication making him slow to react.

As big as he is, he looks fragile hooked up to all the monitors and beeping machines. And what’s worse, he regards me with curiosity, not familiarity.

I shield my face with my hair so he can’t see my fresh tears. I can still see him, though. Confusion is the strongest emotion on his face apart from pain.

“Oh, Alex,” Sunny whispers brokenly.

“I look that bad, eh?” He cracks a weak smile.

“You’ve been prettier,” she says. It’s a joke, but it comes out with a stuttered sob at the end.

Neither one of us is really good at this whole keeping-it-together thing. I wish I could be stronger.

I let go of Sunny’s hand and rush over to him, stopping when I reach the side of his bed, unsure where or if I should touch him. “I was so scared.” I wipe away my tears, but they keep falling.

He focuses on my hand, the one with the huge rock. I don’t know if he actually knows who I am, or is drawing conclusions based on deduction.

“C’mere, baby.” He pats the edge of the mattress.

I sit gingerly beside him and take his hand. There’s an IV needle taped to it, and it’s cool and clammy. I lift it to my lips and kiss his knuckles, then rub my damp cheek on the back of his fingers.

“I love you,” I tell him. “I thought—I didn’t know. It was so fast, and you weren’t moving, and I didn’t kn-kn-know—” I can’t take a deep-enough breath to get the words out.

Alex cradles my cheek in his palm. “It looks a lot worse than it is,” he whispers hoarsely.

I don’t believe him. The pain in his eyes and his voice are obvious.

Sunny comes to stand on the other side of the bed. Alex glances at her without moving his head. She gives him a small smile, then reaches out to brush his hair off his forehead before giving him a tentative one-armed hug. He needs a haircut. He’s been putting it off for a while.

“You had us worried,” she says quietly.

“I’m gonna be fine.”

She nods, but she’s crying, too, relief mixed with the fear now. “Mom and Dad’ll be here in the morning. They’re pretty shaken up.”

His brow furrows and then smooths. “They know I’m okay?”

“They know you’re conscious,” she replies, probably because okay is subjective. Alex is breathing and conscious, but that doesn’t mean he’s honestly okay.

After another minute, it becomes clear that talking is taking all of Alex’s energy. His blinks grow longer as he fights to keep his eyes from staying closed.

Sunny says she’ll go get Darren. No one makes me leave. Instead they rotate through in pairs, ignoring the two-people rule while I sit on the bed beside Alex, holding his hand in both of mine. Each time a new person comes in; curiosity and confusion dominate his expression. But he always smiles even though it seems to take him a minute to remember who he’s talking to—except for Darren and Lily. He recognizes them both almost immediately. After ten minutes, the doctor comes in to tell us Alex needs to rest.

I don’t want to go anywhere, but it sounds like I’m not being given much of a choice. I’m slow to stand.

Alex grips my hand tightly. “No.”

I run my fingers through his hair. It’s greasy, but I don’t care. He’s lucid and seems to have all of his faculties. For now. We’ve been warned that the confusion and memory loss can persist and recur. “You need to rest.”

“I’ll sleep better if you’re here. They’ll bring in a cot for you.”

I look to the doctor, who doesn’t seem to think this is a good idea, based on his pinched expression.

“She’s my wife. She stays.”

My head whips around. Or maybe he
doesn’t
have all his faculties. I’m glad the doctor can’t see my face, because I’m sure it’s all about the shock. Alex isn’t looking at me; he’s glaring at the doctor as if he’s challenging him to say no to the demand, because it certainly wasn’t a request.

“Either my wife stays with me, or I go home.”

“I won’t sign your release papers.”

Alex’s smile is tight, and tired. “Then I guess she’s staying.”