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“Nope,” Maggie says. “I’m just happy at how things have turned out. I’ve gained another daughter, and my Eli is happy.”
It’s more grace than I deserve, and I whisper, “Thank you” just as Annie jumps to her feet, knocking the popcorn bowl to the ground. Her eyes are wide, staring at the television, where the game is still streaming.
Only now, the action has stopped and there are medical personnel making their way onto the ice, one player flat on his back. A helmet is a few feet away, but his head is blocked by someone standing in the way of the camera.
There’s a rushing buzz in my ears as I watch the screen, knowing even before the person moves revealing the blond head of hair I ran my hands through just last week. The breath whooshes out of my lungs in a sickening wheeze.
“What happened?” Maggie says, her voice pulled tight.
“I didn’t see it,” Annie says, sounding dazed. “The announcers said something about his head. He’s unconscious.”
I don’t even realize I’m getting on my feet until I’m halfway across the room. All I can think about is Eli being injured and being alone. Not knowing how I really feel about him.
“Where are you going?” Annie asks.
“To get my purse,” I say, not slowing down. “I have to get to him.”
CHAPTER 24
Eli
I wakeup having been run over by a bus and then spat out of a trash compactor. I am a tiny, trash-compacted cube of throbbing pain.
“You’re not a cube, you’re a drama queen, that’s what you are,” a familiar voice tells me.
Did I say that out loud? At most, maybe I mumbled it. My mouth feels like it’s full of cotton, and I have only hazy memories of being taken off the ice, riding in an ambulance, and having a bunch of bright lights in my face. Voices waking me up, a blood pressure cuff on my arm, beeping monitors. Someone—a doctor?—telling me I have a concussion but will be fine.
I crack open one eye and hope it effectively conveys glaring. Probably not, based on the way Alec chuckles.
“Too loud,” I mumble, closing my one eye again. Darkness is a relief. And this hospital room is practically glowing. “And I’m not being dramatic. I’m concussed. Can we turn off the lights?”
“They’re off. That’s called the sun, dude. Good morning.”
Great. So, Van is here too. Doesn’t the hospital have a limit on visitors? Or, at least, smart-mouthed hockey players?
“I’ll work on the blinds.”
Guess the limit is at least three, because that’s Felix. And the grunt I hear sounds like Nathan.
“Thanks. Are we having a team meeting in here or what?” I ask. “Did you decide to vote me off the island?”
“Can’t we check in on our favorite and most concussed player?” Logan asks.
“How many of you are in here?” I groan. “It’s like a clown car. But a hospital room full of hockey players.”
“I’m here too,” Parker chirps. Then, probably noticing my wince, she lowers her voice to a whisper. “Sorry. We all just wanted to make sure you’re okay.”
“And that you don’t have amnesia,” Van adds. “I was kind of hoping you did, just so I could mess with you.”
“Thanks? I remember you guys—maybe a little too well. But I don’t … I don’t remember exactly what happened.”
“It was my fault.”
This voice I don’t recognize as much, and I crack open the same eye again, zeroing in on Wyatt, standing next to a poster about healthy blood pressure. He looks grim. Not that unusual, as he’s like Nathan’s second-in-command with regards to grumpiness. But Wyatt looks darker now, his eyes shadowed.
“How was it your fault?” I ask.
“It wasn’t,” Alec says. “He’s got a guilt complex. It was as much your fault as his.”
