33. Dane

33

DANE

The first thing I feel is an intense throb across my skull. It feels like Carter’s best friend, Cory, took a baseball bat to the back of my head. Or maybe it was Joshua, Morgan’s friend, who I know would love to date her if she ever gave him the chance.

But that ship has sailed. Morgan is mine. And I’m not going to let some good-looking twenty-something-year-old steal her from me.

Shouts and cries fill my ears, but I can’t make sense of the sounds. Bright lights shine behind my eyes. I try to open them but immediately abandon the attempt when it sends a fresh wave of agony through my skull.

My body shifts. I’m lifted onto a hard surface. Cheers grow louder. My thoughts are sluggish. I’m wearing my uniform and pads. My helmet is missing. I try to raise a hand to feel for my helmet, but my limb doesn’t respond.

What the fuck happened?

The bright lights disappear. Footsteps replace the sound I now know must have been a crowd. I was in the middle of a game. What game?

Voices talk above me. I hear my name and something about a concussion.

Even in my disoriented state, I acknowledge that’s what’s going on.

This wouldn’t be my first concussion, but it’s the first one I’ve experienced when I couldn’t open my eyes after being hit. That can’t be good.

The smell of lemon cleaner fills my nostrils, and the surface I’m on comes to a stop. Whoever’s in the room with me begins to free me of my uniform and pads. I groan when someone tugs my jersey over my head.

“Dane!” A man’s voice speaks, sounding close. “Dane, can you hear me?”

I try to say yes, but it comes out as a groan.

“Don’t worry, Dane. The neurology team is on the way. They ride with you in the ambulance.”

Ambulance?

Frustration curls in my chest as I try, once again, to open my eyes, but I can’t do more than part my eyelids before the pain demands I close them.

Hockey is an aggressive sport. I’ve been hit countless times, but my protective gear has never failed to save me from sustaining a debilitating injury.

I wasn’t so lucky this time.

I try to fill in the missing pieces of what caused me to be in this condition, but I’m unsuccessful. My brain isn’t working, and all I can register is the here and now.

“Please, let me through! I’m his girlfriend.”

My heart skips a beat. I know that voice.

“Morgan?” I croak.

The man above my head hears. “What did you say, Dane?”

I focus all my effort on saying one more time, “Morgan.”

“Dane!” She cries out when she hears me. “I’m here!”

Voices discuss whether or not to let her come into whatever room I’m in. I hear jostling and Morgan snapping at someone to let her pass. Then, soft, delicate fingers wrap around my hand that lies on the solid surface beneath me.

“Dane,” her words are soft. Her breath brushes the hair sticking to my temple. “How are you feeling?”

“Bad,” I croak. Speaking is getting easier, but doing so sends jolts of pain through my entire head.

Morgan senses it. “Don’t talk.” She squeezes my hand. “Rest. You’re going to be okay.”

Her voice sounds farther away when she turns and asks someone, “Is he going to the hospital?”

“The ambulance is coming around to the medical exit as we speak.”

I try to say I don’t want to go to the hospital—that I just need ten minutes and I’ll be all right—but it comes out as a moan.

“It’s okay, Dane.” Morgan’s thumb strokes the back of my hand. “It’s going to be okay.”

The next thing I know, I’m staring at an off-white ceiling. The sound of a heart rate monitor beeps near my head. For a moment, I wonder if I fell asleep visiting Mom in her hospital room, and then it hits me.

The game.

Glass cracking.

The world going black.

Morgan gripping my hand.

At least this is an improvement. I can clearly see the spots of dust and grime gathered in the corner of the ceiling tile frames.

I try to sit up, but a sharp jolt zips across my head.

“Ugh.” I flop back onto the foam bed beneath me.

“You’re awake.”

Despite the pain, a smile curls my lips. “Morgan.”

Her beautiful face appears above as she leans over me. Brown eyes are wide with relief and worry. “I’m here. How are you feeling.”

“Not great.” I swallow a dry lump in my throat. “What happened?”

“Nichols from Florida checked you into the wall. The equipment staff are still analyzing your helmet, but it seems that the glass hit the material just right and made it fly off your head. Your head whipped back, and you cracked your temple against the ice.”

Pain radiates from my temple the moment she finishes her explanation. I lift my hand and wince when my fingers brush against the bandage wrapped over my forehead and around the base of my skull.

“Damn… that sucks.”

She huffs a strained laugh. “Yeah, it does.”

A tear rolls from the corner of her eye.

My chest tightens. “Don’t cry.”

“I’m trying,” her voice shakes. “Seeing you laying there, not moving…” She sucks in a ragged breath. “It was terrifying.”

“I know.” I can only imagine how I would feel if the roles were reversed. “But I’m fine. Listen to that heartbeat.” I motion in the general direction of where the beeping sounds are coming from. “I’m doing great.”

She shakes her head but gives me a tiny smile. I consider it a win. “Want me to sit the bed up?”

“Yes, please.”

Morgan takes her time, helping me shift my body higher and wait out waves of discomfort that come as the bed inclines. Eventually, I’m seated like I’m in a recliner enjoying a movie with my girlfriend at my side, except I’m in a puke-green hospital gown. I suspect the color choice was intentional.

“How long have I been here?” I ask after telling her that the last thing I remember is speaking to her at the arena.

“Six hours. It’s nearly two in the morning.”

I blow out a breath. Six hours isn’t too long. Part of me worried I was about to have a While You Were Sleeping moment where I woke up and learned I’d been unconscious for weeks. Though, in that movie, he’s tricked into thinking Sandra Bullock is his fiancé he’d forgotten. There’s no way I’d forget the woman currently fussing with the pillow behind my head.

The effort puts her chest in front of my face. “This is a nice view.”

Morgan looks down and scowls playfully. “Pig.”

“Only for you.”

She shakes her head and steps back with a laugh. “The doctors gave you meds to keep you asleep,” she tells me. “The nurse asked for me to get her when you woke up. I’ll be right back.”

I open my mouth to tell her we can just press the “Call Nurse” button on the remote attached to my bed, but she’s out the door before I can take a breath.

I press my lips together and smile to myself. I don’t relish the circumstances that led to this moment, but I’m not going to lie; it’s nice having someone concerned about me who isn’t family.

Morgan told me she loves me. I believe her, but seeing the words backed up by her actions isn’t something I’ve experienced. Chelsea cared more about what I could do for her than what she could do for me. Thank God I didn’t end up with her.

“Oh, Dane. You’re awake!”

I stiffen and whip my head to the room’s entrance. I wince, but the pain is forgotten as I take in the middle-aged woman rushing across the squeaky tile floors.

“ Mom? !”

“See, Mom.” Eli walks in after her. “I told you he’d be fine. Dane is too stubborn to let a little blackout keep him down.”

I bite back a grunt of pain when Mom wraps her thin arms around me, putting weight on my chest. She leans back. Tears glisten in her eyes. “Oh, Dane. We were so worried.”

“What are you doing here?” I look between Mom and Eli. “How did you get here so fast?”

“The Ranchers chartered a plane to bring us here,” Mom reveals.

“What?”

“It was Coach Miller’s idea,” Eli reveals. “He and the team insisted Gianni get them here.”

Wow.

“They must’ve thought I was dying.” After my recent conversation with Vincent Jr., I doubt the owner would’ve agreed to such an expense otherwise.

“That’s not funny, Dane.” Mom sniffs. “We were terrified.”

Remorse floods my chest. “Sorry, Mom.”

“It’s all right.” She sniffs again and wipes her cheeks. “I’m just glad you’re all right.”

“What did they say is wrong with you?” Eli asks.

“Nothing yet. At least, nothing to me,” I tell him. “Morgan went to get the nurse.”

On cue, an older woman appears in the doorway. She wears a bright smile. “It is good to see you awake, Mr. Larson. I called for the doctor, but I’ll take your vitals now that you’re conscious.”

Morgan walks in behind the peppy nurse. Her brown eyes widen slightly as she takes in the sight of Eli and my mom, hesitating for a second before entering the room.

The nurse steps in front of me, blocking my line of sight as she tightens a blood pressure cuff onto my bicep. I hear Eli introduce Mom and Morgan. Polite greetings are exchanged.

The nurse hums approvingly and removes the cuff.

“What’s the verdict on my head?” I ask as she types something into the computer located next to the head of the hospital bed. “When can I get out of here?”

“I’m not certain. The doctor will be able to tell you more when she arrives.”

It’s not the answer I want, but I’m not in a position to argue.

I keep quiet as the nurse completes her tasks, trying to listen in on Morgan, Mom, and Eli’s quiet conversation in the corner of the room. When the nurse steps back to type more information into the computer, I see they’re smiling.

I find my own lips turning up.

A knock raps on the doorframe.

I look toward the sound, eager to ask the doctor about my condition. My smile falls, and irritation ripples through me when I see who's there.

My dad stands tall and nearly fills out the width of the doorframe. His eyes lock with mine. “Hello, Dane.”