Page 18 of Saving Forever with the Hockey Captain

He glances toward the doorway Maria just left through. "I try to."

"Why?"

For the first time all morning, he does not answer quickly. He looks down at his right hand resting on the blanket. His left arm stays immobilized against his side.

"People deserve to be known."

No performance. No captain voice. No polished media answer.

Just truth. Quiet. Clean.

I write his next vital signs in the chart because my hands need something to do. That is the first moment Jamie Walker becomes harder to dismiss as another stubborn athlete.

Fame can be manufactured. Kindness usually cannot.

***

Late morning brings Coach. He fills the doorway before he steps through it, broad shoulders, tired eyes, and a team jacket zipped to his throat. He has the look of a man who slept in a chair and would deny it under oath.

Jamie's whole body shifts toward him. Too fast. He immediately regrets it.

I raise a hand. "Slow."

Coach notices. So does Jamie. Neither comments.

"Cap."

"Score?"

Coach's mouth tightens. "We won."

Some tension leaves Jamie's face, but not all of it. "Ethan?"

Coach looks at me first. I give him the smallest nod. He steps closer to the bed.

"He’s physically fine. Not a scratch on him."

Jamie closes his eyes.

The breath he lets out is the deepest one he has taken all morning. The monitor steadies.

His hand unclenches against the sheet. Only then do I understand.

The questions about Coach, the laptop, the team, all of it had been noise around the one thing he really needed to know.

Ethan is safe. The rookie is safe.

Jamie could breathe now because someone else was okay. That should not make my throat tighten. It does anyway.

Coach lowers his voice. "Emotionally, he's a mess, Cap. Thinks it should've been him."

Jamie's eyes open.

The captain, capital C, returns so quickly I almost see him pull the uniform back on despite the hospital gown.

"Bring him up."

"No," I say.