Page 27 of Slapshot Baby

"I haven't insulted you once," I say.

"You forgot I existed. That's the premium tier of insult. Everything after this is uphill for you, so don't worry."

I laugh again. This time it doesn't hurt as much.

I don't remember Ava. But I actually think I would fucking like to.

I study her face. The hazel eyes, the warm brown hair, the expressiveness that makes everything she's feeling visible.

She's beautiful in a way that has nothing to do with effort.

We talk for a few more minutes. She tells me about her work, and I tell her about waking up with no memory of the last four years. She talks with her hands, punctuating stories with gestures that nearly knock over my water cup twice.

Eventually her phone buzzes. She checks it and stands, smoothing her shirt.

"I have to go, but the plant stays. Water it. If it dies, I'll know and I'll be very disappointed. You don't want that. I'm terrifying when I'm that way. Ask anyone."

My lips twitch. "I don't have anyone to ask.”

She says goodbye to my mother, the two of them exchanging a warmth I wish I'm part of. At the door she stops and looks back at me.

"Get better, Kai Donovan. That's an order. You’re not allowed to lie on a hospital bed feeling sorry for yourself.”

She leaves, and the room settles back into its beeping rhythm. I look at the plant then at my mother.

"Who is she really?"

"A friend," Mom says with a catch in her voice. "A good one, I think. I hope you get to find out."

***

The next afternoon, my team arrives.

I hear them before I see them. Then the door bangs open and the room fills with large men in street clothes who don't fit in hospital chairs.

The one in front has copper-blond hair sticking up everywhere, freckles, and a grin that takes up his whole face. He's carrying a balloon shaped like a hockey stick.

"You look like garbage, Cap. Genuine garbage. I've seen roadkill with better color."

"Wyatt," Dad says in a low warning tone.

"What? He knows I mean it with love."

Dad snorts.

"I brought a balloon, Charles, I'm being supportive."

I don't know him. He must have joined the team within the last four years. Nobody in the room seems ready to say that part out loud, so I do.

“What did you just call me?”

“Cap. Captain.”

My chest tightens with joy. “I made captain.”

Wyatt laughs. “Oh, this is splendid. I can tell you anything and you’ll have to believe it.”

I frown. "I don't remember you."