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Chapter 33

"It's too early to say anything at this stage," the neurosurgeon treating Zach confirms. "We're currently scanning Mr. Evans to ascertain if he has a fracture or dislocation of the cervical vertebrae; a spinal concussion is also possible, and we of course hope for the latter. As soon as we know more, we will be informing his medical team and family. I can confirm that Mr. Evans has two broken ribs, a fractured tibia, several deep lacerations to his face, and a broken jaw."

My phone buzzes in the back pocket of my pants but I ignore it. I can't think of anything other than my best friend right now.

Coach turns to me. "Head back to the hotel, Morgan. There's nothing more you can do. I'll call you when I hear from the medical team."

I shake my head. "I'm staying right here." There's no way he would leave me. He never has.Zach's words at practice earlier repeat in my head. "I've always been there for you, man, and where were you when I needed you?"

Walking into the restrooms, I lean my hands on the counter. My thoughts are spiraling out of control and for all the therapy I've had over the years, I've always had Zach to lean on, support me, and tell me it'll be okay. But now that person thinks I've let him down, that I'm not worth his time, and you know what? From his position in a hospital bed, I'd say he's probably right.

"Fuck!" I twist my fist and punch the paper towel dispenser over and over until my knuckles are bleeding and raw, the physical pain providing a brief distraction from the mental anguish.

My phone buzzes again and this time I check it.

Angel

I'm still at the stadium with Jensen's mum and dad, but I'm heading back to the hotel soon. I'm praying Zach is okay and please, baby, let me know you are too.

I go to pocket my phone but figure she won't stop until she hears from me. Right now, I just need to be away from her. She can't see me like this.

Me

Ask them to make sure you get back to the hotel okay. I don't know when I'll be back.

I repocket my phone and head back outside to join Coach.

"Any word?" Jensen comes to sit next to me; it's been hours since we last saw the neurosurgeon and still no update.

"Nope," I reply, disinterested in conversation but I do note the absence of Amie. We haven't heard from her at all and have no idea where she is. In love with Zach? Give me a break.If anything happened to Felicity, I'd be glued to her bedside from the minute she arrived.

"My parents made sure Felicity got back to the hotel okay."

I nod, bending down to face the floor, my forearms resting on my knees. "Thanks."

"She's worried about you, man; says she's barely heard from you since you tore out of the stadium."

"I'm worried about my best friend. She'll understand I've got to prioritize him."

"Yeah, that's understandable, buddy, but at least text her back."

"I fucking did!" I snap.I've barely made contact because my headspace is so fucked up right now, in this state, I'm enough to drive anyone away. I just need to be on my own.

"Barely."

"You know what, Jensen, if you haven't got anything useful to add then fuck off. I'm not in the mood."

"Don't do this, Jon." He's witnessed me at my worst, and I know he can sense what's coming, the road I'm on. I can too. I know my behavior is erratic and my emotions are spiraling, but I'm powerless to stop it. With every passing minute, I feel my grip on rational thought slipping and the voice telling me I'm not enough getting louder. The temptation to give in and let it pull me under is getting stronger.

I don't reply. I just sit back and put my hood up, blocking everyone around me out while we wait for someone, any fucking one at this stage, to tell me if my friend will walk again.

I lie in our hotel room, staring absentmindedly at the episode of Friends I have on the TV.

I know something is very wrong with Jon. Aside from the fact his best friend is lying in a hospital bed and we're uncertain what spinal damage he's sustained, the look in his eyes when he left the rink scares me, like something inside him had died. His only text reply to me tonight was cold at best and while I totally get this is hard for him, I can't help the gnawing concern that this is all to do with a decline in Jon's mental health. His lack of self-esteem leads to anxiety and possibly depression. I know little about his medical history other than he has been seeing his therapist, Ben, long-term but seeing him tonight tells me he's in a dark place.

I pull up my phone again, desperate to know what's going on, and thankfully Jensen gave me his number earlier. I get the feeling he's not just concerned over Zach's well-being, too.

Me

What's happening? I'm going out of my mind here.

Three dots appear quickly, and a reply comes through.

Jensen

He hasn't told you?

I haven't heard a thing. He's gone dark on me.

For fuck's sake. It's good news. It"s a spinal concussion. Docs hope the feeling in Zach's legs and arms will return in a few days. He has a broken tibia, two broken ribs, a broken jaw, and he needed stitches to his eyebrow, cheek, and lip due to the impact with the boards.

I don't know what to feel. There's relief that Zach's spine isn't seriously injured, but he's looking at a long time out of the game. At least the rest of the season, even I can tell that.

Schneider has a broken jaw, broken nose, three missing teeth (courtesy of me), and a concussion.

I hope they throw the book at him.

We'll have to wait to hear an official ruling, but he's looking at a twenty-five-game suspension and a heavy fine. With a pre-meditated hit like that, he should never play again. He could've fucking killed him.

How's Jon?

When we heard the news that Zach would be under strong pain medication all night, he left the hospital. I tried to talk to him, but I don't know…he doesn't seem good. Like he's blaming himself for what happened.

I'm beginning to panic, wondering what state my boyfriend is in right now.

Where is he?

He wouldn't talk to anyone. Just sit tight. He'll come back, probably once he's cleared his head.

I want to call him, but I stop myself. My gut tells me he needs this time alone, and I'll give him that space. Even if it's killing me not to go out into the night and search every building until I find him.

It's gonefour in the morning when the door to our suite opens, and I hear a thud and then...laughter?

Pulling back the covers, I fly out of bed. "Jon, is that you?"

I find him leaning over a console table, half-conscious and reeking of booze. There are broken shards from a vase he must've knocked over and his light gray hoodie is ripped and covered in stains like he's fallen over several times, his trousers in a similar state.

But it's when I see his eyes that my heart cracks clean down the middle. Puffy, red, and totally vacant. He's sure done a number on himself, drinking into total oblivion.

"Jon, baby, what have you done to yourself?" I try to pull him onto my shoulder, but he's a dead weight.

On hearing my voice, he turns his head in my direction and a tiny smile traces his lips. "Doooooo yyyou lorve me, Annngel?" His voice is a slurry mess, but I can just about make out the words.

"Let's not talk about this now, okay?" I reply. "Let's just get you into bed."

"Yoooou mmmmean eferythinnng to mmeee."

"I know, baby. You do, too. Can you walk with me?"

I try to haul Jon's huge body from the console table but as soon as we try, I collapse to the ground and Jon tumbles forward and onto me. I feel a sharp shoot of pain in my left wrist as I try to break my fall. "Ow, shit."

I look across to find him fully passed out. I'm almost certain he's going to hurl at some point, so I shrug off the pain and move him onto his side, then fetch some spare blankets and pillows and place them on the floor. I roll one underneath Jon and prop him up with a pillow, then wrap us in another blanket as I cuddle his huge body from behind.

A few minutes pass and his breathing begins to even out. Taking one of his hands in mine, I intertwine our fingers, as Jon has done with me so many times before. I know he won't remember my words tomorrow but as I whisper them into his ear, I hope on some subconscious level they'll resonate with him. "You are worthy Jon, and you mean everything to so many people, especially to me. You've changed my life, and I love you." I drift off to sleep, in the comfort that I know he's here and safe with me.

"We can figure it all out closer to Easter break, but I can't wait to see you, Mum. Oh, maybe we can finally make it across to Vancouver Island. That's if Liam's stomach can take the ferry. He wants to puke just at the sight of open water." Darcy giggles.

I laugh down the phone while chopping vegetables for the traditional British Sunday lunch I'm making for Jon's parents and Adam. I'm running behind schedule, and Jon still isn't back home. He's over an hour late with no word from him.

"He's never had a strong stomach. Remember when Jack got sick that Christmas, and he turned whiter than a sheet."

She giggles harder. "Yeah, I do. Probably wise that he studies architecture and not medicine."

"Too right."

"How're things with Jon? All fully moved in and settled?"

I pause my chopping and squeeze my eyes shut. Keep it together.

"Yeah, it's great. I'm just prepping traditional Sunday dinner; we have his parents and Adam coming over in..." I look down at my Apple watch and see the emerald strap Jon bought me, another reminder of the man I fell in love with yet who's been absent from my life for the past week. "Oh shoot, in like thirty minutes. Honey, I need to go, but I'll call you later, okay? Love you."

We hang up the call, and I hit panic mode. I've not even made a start on the batter for the Yorkshire puddings and the entire kitchen is a mess.

Where the fuck is he?

I grab my phone and send him yet another text.

Me

Your parents and Adam will be here in half an hour. Please tell me you're on your way.

Nothing. A further ten minutes pass and he hasn't even read my message.

Trying to stay calm, I fly around the apartment and finish up the food, then clean, lay the table, and throw on Jon's favorite dress. I'm trying everything to catch even a flicker of reassurance that my boyfriend is still in there somewhere. We still cuddle in bed, but the sex has completely gone. He's either had too much to drink or he's too exhausted from overworking in the gym and collapses as soon as nighttime comes. When he realized I'd sprained my wrist trying to help him into bed that night in New York, he was devastated that "he'd hurt me" as he said. It was an accident, but he didn't see it that way, using it as another reason to hate himself.

Jon loves those closest to him unconditionally. He's the most generous person I know when it comes to his heart and what he has, but I'm still struggling to find a way through to him when it comes to turning that love on himself, and I"m starting to question if I'll ever achieve it. His mental health issues are clearly deeply ingrained and other than his therapy, he's only ever used temporary "fixes" to continue functioning. Ways to numb the pain and distract his mind.

The direct elevator to our apartment pings, indicating that we have guests. Right on time, and he's still not here.

I stare in the mirror and fix my hair once more.

You can do this.

"You can definitely cookfor us again, Felicity. You clearly know your way around the kitchen. Although, I don't think I'll be eating another thing for the next week!" Jennie compliments me with her usual bright smile, but the mood this afternoon has been anything but. Jon's family has been here and eating for the past hour, but there's still no sign or word from Jon. I covered for him by saying he was held up at practice, and I really hope he was.

I stand from the table and begin collecting the dishes. "The pavlova recipe was my mum's; I can send it to you if you like?"

"That would be wonderful, honey. Do you need some help with the dishes?"

"No," I reply, still plastering on my fa?ade. "Just relax; I've got it."

I balance the dishes in both hands, thankful my wrist healed quickly, and blow out a deep breath when I reach the kitchen. I check my texts, but there's still no word from Jon.

I lock my phone just as a hand reaches to place a glass on the counter and I look up to find Adam.Like the rest of us, he knows something isn't right and while he prefers not to verbalize too often, I can tell he wants to talk.

"He's having a hard time again, isn't he?" Adam asks, hands in his pockets and looking down at the floor.

I choose not to sugarcoat the situation. Adam is one of the most honest and direct people I've met. "Yes. Since Zach's accident, he's gone downhill, over training and drinking. He won't talk to me, but I can tell he blames himself for what happened."

Adam nods in understanding. "He's always been like this. He takes on the world and achieves so much yet thinks he'll never be good enough."

"I know," I say on a soft exhale.

"You won't give up on him, will you? He's a good person, and so are you." Adam raises his head but doesn't make eye contact with me, though I can see the anguish written all over his face as he stares at the kitchen cabinet in front of him. He's hurting for his brother.

I place my hand on Adam's forearm. "No, I won't give up on him. I'll make sure he sees just how wanted he is."

My eyes are blurry with unshed tears as I turn back to the sink and begin clearing the dishes.

"You love him."

My tears spill over, and I turn back around to face Adam. "With all my heart."

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