I turn to her, trying to read her expression. “Can you walk, or do you need assistance?”
“It should be fine,” she murmurs.
But she doesn't move. Her mouth is tight, and her eyes are glassy like she’s not entirely here. I reach over and rest a hand on her knee. The gesture is not pushing, just anchoring.
“We’ll go slow. You don’t have to rush.”
She nods again, but it’s mechanical. I step out first, rounding the car to get to her. She climbs out with stiff movements, every little motion taking effort. I want to scoop her up and carry her. Not because she’s weak, but because the weight she’s under is too much for anyone.
Her gaze is fixed straight ahead as we cross the lot. Her arms are crossed across the chest, bracing for a blow, and her fingers stay clenched around the sleeves of her hoodie.
We follow the blue signs that point toward the emergency entrance. A woman pushes past us with a toddler crying on her hip. An older man sits slumped on a bench just outside the sliding glass doors, staring blankly somewhere in the distance. Here the world is too loud and too quiet at the same time.
Once inside, we follow the signs until we reach the private waiting room Holden mentioned during the phone call.
I pause with my hand on the handle, glancing at Haisley. “You ready, or do you need a moment?”
She nods once, but her eyes are glazed over. I open the door, letting her go in first.
Inside, Holden rises from a chair near the entrance the second we walk in. He’s wearing a battered ball cap and a grey hoodie that says Peacocks Hockey in purple block letter. His expression is tight, jaw locked, but he’s holding it together for his sister and mother.
“Haisley,” he breathes, stepping forward to pull her into a hug.
She falls into him with a choked sob, burying her face in his chest. He squeezes her tight, one hand rubbing her back in slow circles.
I glance to the right and see Gloria. She’s seated in a plastic chair against the wall, arms wrapped around her middle. Her hair is pulled back in a messy ponytail, so unlike her usual look. The second she spots us, her face crumples.
Without thinking, I step forward and wrap my arms around her. She collapses into me, her sobs loud as she clutches the back of my jacket as if it’s tethering her to the ground. Her body shakes against mine.
“I’m so sorry,” I whisper because it’s the only thing that comes to mind and the only thing that feels true. “I’m so sorry.”
She pulls back a little, giving me a watery smile. “Thank you for getting her here safely, Rasmus.”
Her voice breaks halfway through my name. I nod, unable to say more. My throat’s tight, my own chest aching just watching them fall apart.
Haisley steps away from Holden and rushes into her mom’s arms after I let go. Gloria pulls her daughter in instantly, and the two of them cling to each other.
Holden stands a few feet away, his arms hanging useless at his sides. His fingers twitch, curling into fists and uncurling again. His jaw works, grinding his molars together. I’ve seen that kind of rage before. It’s not the kind you aim at someone else, but the kind that bubbles up when the world just stops making sense. When something breaks and there’s no one to blame.
I want to help. I want to do something. But I’ve never felt more useless in my life.
I’ve taken hard hits on the ice, played through torn muscles and cracked ribs. I’ve had my face stitched up between periods and gone back out without missing a beat.
But this? Standing in a hospital room while someone you care about breaks in front of you? It’s the worst kind of helplessness. There’s nothing I can do to fix this. Nothing I can say to take away their pain.
Holden clears his throat, glancing toward the door leading to the hallway. “The doctor should be here soon after they run some tests.”
I glance between him and the women, then ask gently, “Do they have any idea what could be behind your dad’s seizure?”
He shakes his head. “Too many possible diagnoses. They’ve ruled out stroke and trauma, but beyond that it’s a waiting game until the scans and labs come back.”
“How’s he doing overall?”
“He’s stable now, but they want to monitor him overnight and run even more tests. They think whatever it is, it might’ve been building for a while just under the surface. Today just happened to be the tipping point.”
Haisley turns toward him, her face paler than usual. “But he was fine. I talked to him earlier between the first and second periods. He was laughing. He wasfine.”
Her voice cracks on the last word, the disbelief and fear clinging to it.
