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“Thanks for staying with him,” Amara told Jake.
“Of course.”
Ryan collapsed forward, leaning on his arms against his knees and shaking. Jake reached his hand around his back, grabbed his shoulder, and squeezed, then patted it a few times. “It’s gonna be OK, man. Just try to relax.”
He lifted his head up and leaned back against the wall, before popping up out of his chair and beginning to pace back and forth in front of them. “He was unresponsive. I heard them saying something about a possible broken neck...”
“He’s awake, Ryan. I was just talking to him back there. His neck isn’t broken, and he’s awake and alert.”
Flopping back down into his chair, he leaned over onto Amara and began sobbing. “Really?”
“Yes, really. I haven’t had a chance to talk to the doctor yet, but I don’t think it’s terrible. He was complaining about his shoulder, though, so I’m not sure if he reinjured it.”
He sat back up in his chair, unable to keep still for more than 30 seconds at a time, but she was proud of him: he should’ve been in the throes of a full-blown panic attack at this point, and he wasn’t, which defied all logic.
“Can we talk about what happened to you for a second, Ry?”
“Let’s just say I’m in deep fucking shit.”
“You get tossed?”
“Oh yeah. Coach Reilly benched me, but Rizz had my back. First chance I could, I went after him. Teed off on him with my stick and beat his ass, ‘til his teammates got a hold of me and returned the favor.” He motioned towards his battered face. “Both benches cleared, the goalies fought, the crowd was going insane. This is gonna be all over the news, social media. A complete shit show. It was a dirty fucking hit, Mar. Filthy. That dude charged him from the blue line, wasn’t even in on the battle. Fucking stripes let him go with a double-minor for cross-checking. I wasn’t having any of that shit.”
“That’s it? A double-minor? Charging should be at least a five, possibly with a game misconduct!” Amara exclaimed, causing both Ryan and Jake to whip their heads in her direction. She shrugged. “What? I’ve been doing some reading.”
The nurse approached them, and both Amara and Ryan stood up. “So, we only allow one visitor, and you can’t switch them out. But since you’re his...” she winked at Amara, “mother?”
She nodded. “Yep. I’m Tyler’s...mother.”
“And since this is your other...” she winked at Ryan, “son?”
Ryan nodded. “Yeah. He’s my...brother.”
“Since you’re both immediate family, I am going to make an exception and allow you both back.” She turned to Jake. “You Dad?”
He shook his head. “Nope. I am definitely not Dad. Though she has been known to call me Daddy from time to time.” The nurse pursed her lips and turned away, as Amara shot him a death glare. “Sorry. That...went over much better in my head.”
“Follow me, family.” They went with the nurse, with Amara turning back and running towards Jake.
“You don’t have to stay if you don’t want to,” she said, giving him a quick hug and a kiss on the cheek.
“I’m not going anywhere.”
She smiled at him. “Thanks...Daddy,” she teased, running to catch up with Ryan and the nurse, who’d already begun making their way back to Tyler.
They got to Ty’s room, and the nurse pulled back the curtain. “If he falls asleep, wake him up. They don’t want him sleeping until he’s been seen by the doctor.”
“And is that going to happen soon?” Amara asked.
“As soon as it can, ma’am.” She turned and left, and both Amara and Ryan entered the room, where the slight smell of vomit lingered, though it was somewhat of a welcome distraction from Ryan’s post-game funk.
“Rook!” Ty whimpered, as Ryan hurried over to him, leaned down, and hugged all the life that remained out of him. Both boys immediately started crying, which, of course, triggered Amara’s tears. Tyler’s monitors began beeping wildly, and Amara pushed a chair over towards Ryan.
“Don’t lean on him. You’re pinching off his cords. Here, sit.”
Ryan sat, grabbing Ty’s hand with both of his. “Hey,” he said. “You scared the fucking shit outta me, you know that?”
“Never mind me. The fuck happened to you?”
