Page 252 of Saving Forever with the Hockey Captain

At the accident.

At the wheelchair.

And at everyone trying to tell him recovery takes time.

"I don't need another pep talk."

His words are sharp enough to cut glass. I pull a chair beside his bed. "I wasn't planning to give you one."

That catches his attention. He studies me for a moment. "Then why are you here?"

I smile gently. "Because somebody once reminded me that healing isn't about how fast you get there."

His shoulders relax just enough. And for the next twenty minutes we don't talk about walking.

We talk about tomorrow.

One small goal.

Then the next.

When I leave his room, he thanks me.

It's quiet. Almost reluctant. But it's there.

Dr. Lawson catches up with me in the hallway. "I've been trying to get through to him for days."

I shrug. "He just needed someone to listen."

He smiles. "I think you're going to fit in just fine."

I thank him.

Because it's easier than admitting the truth.

The person who taught me how to encourage someone through impossible healing...

Was the man I walked away from.

***

That evening, I carry a cardboard box into my apartment.

It's small. Clean. Completely furnished.

It doesn't feel like home.

I unpack my coffee mugs. Two of them.

Before I realize what I'm doing, I stand there staring at the second mug.

My chest tightens.

Slowly...

I wrap it back in newspaper.

Place it inside the kitchen cabinet.