Page 106 of Center Ice
“Fighting is part of hockey, Drew. No one expects that you’llneverfight. I think AJ just wants to make sure you’re not spending all your time in the penalty box. And you haven’t been.”
She’s right, I haven’t spent nearly as much time in the penalty box as was normal for me in Colorado. But still, I know AJ’s not happy with me right now. “I know, but she’s pissed about that fight.”
“You’re worried?”
“A little.”
“It’s going to be okay, Drew,” she says, but she can’t know that for sure.
“I hope so.” I sigh, and we say our goodbyes before I return to the room to wait with my sisters.
It’s probably half an hour later when there’s a knock on the door, and then it swings open. We all look up, expecting a nurse or doctor to update us on my mom, and in strolls Audrey.
“What—what are you doing here?” I ask, as relief crashes over me just at the sight of her.
“Since you don’t know how long you’ll be here, I brought provisions.” She holds out a plastic container of cookies, telling us Jules made them earlier today. And then she sets what appears to be one of those bags that hold four bottles of wine on a rolling table next to where the bed should be, and starts taking out reusable coffee mugs one by one. “It’s hot caramel apple cider,” she says, “because that’s what I had on hand. I hope you guys like that? I didn’t want to attempt hot chocolate now that I’ve had your secret family recipe.”
Missy and Caitlyn look at me, and Missy laughs, saying, “We have a secret family recipe?”
“It’sverytop secret,” I say, looking at my sisters. “Sorry, you two didn’t make the cut.”
“You made that whole thing up!” Audrey practically screeches.
“I do have a recipe, and I’m the only one who knows what it is, thus making it top secret. I did say that I’d tell you when you married me.” I shrug, and then reach my hand out for a cup of her hot caramel apple cider.
“Well, now maybe I don’t know if Iwantto marry you,” she says, but her voice is teasing as she hands me the cup. “If you’d lie about a hot chocolate recipe, what else would you lie about?”
I pull her to me and my lips to her forehead, telling her, “I’m so glad you’re here.” She wraps an arm around me and gives me a squeeze, then looks up at me. “I would never have expected you to come. I know how much you hate hospitals.”
“Drew, I’ll happily sit in a hospital if it means being here to support you.”
I drop my forehead to hers and breathe her in, the vanilla citrus scent that she seems to be infused with, as I try to absorb the love and the empathy she exudes.
My sisters start making gagging noises behind us, and I’m about to say something crude in response, when the door swings open and a nurse walks in.
“Everything’s okay,” she tells us. “But the doctor wants to keep your mom overnight for observation. You can see her, and then we’re going to get her admitted.”
Chapter Forty-Two
AUDREY
We’re crowded together at the table in our kitchen, having a Friday night family dinner. Jules is heading back up to Maine this weekend, and so our normal Sunday night won’t work. It’s loud and rambunctious with four adults and three kids, and I love having my whole family together like this.
But Drew’s empty seat next to me is putting a damper on things. He had a mid-week game in Tampa, so I haven’t seen him in days, and he was supposed to be here already. I glance at my watch, and when I look up, I see him through the kitchen window as he walks up the back steps. His head is hung low, and he looks…not like himself.
Jules is at the counter, so she lets him in, and when Graham sees Drew, he runs across the kitchen and throws his arms around Drew’s legs. Drew bends and picks him up, giving him a huge hug, but the way he squeezes his eyes closed like he’s in pain has me worried. What the hell is wrong?
He carries Graham back to his seat, then slides into the chair next to me, leaning over and kissing me on the cheek. It’s a chaste kiss, the kind you’d give a friend or a relative, but maybe it’s just because we’re in front of my whole family and it’s his first time being here for a dinner with us?
I glance over at him and don’t miss the purple circles beneath his eyes. He looks like he hasn’t slept in a week. Lauren offers him the serving platter of pasta, which we’d made because he has a game tomorrow. One of the things I’d forgotten from when Jameson used to play is how much damn pasta hockey players eat when they’re carb loading the night before a game.
I watch him eat a few bites here and there as his eyes scan the table, but it feels like he’s somewhere else. So I slide my arm along the back of the chair and lean my head on his shoulder, looking up at him as I whisper, “Everything okay?”
“Not now, Audrey.”
It takes everything I have not to respond—not to whip my head up and look him dead in the eye and tell him not to take that tone with me. There’s obviously something going on, and he clearly doesn’t want to talk about it in front of my family. I just wish he’d given me a heads up.
Across the table, Jameson’s eyes flit from Drew to me, and he does not look happy.
