Chapter 32
Jack startledawake to Clara shaking his shoulder. It brought him straight back to his childhood when he"d slept past his alarm for school. He grunted. "What is it?" His barely awake brain went to all kinds of weird places. Fire? Lost kitten? It wouldn"t have been the first time.
"Jack, you need to take this." Clara shoved her phone in his face, and he pushed to sitting. He blinked to clear his vision, but couldn"t read the name ticking across the top of the screen. Before he"d even raised his hand, Clara pushed the phone against his ear.
"Hello?"
"Jack? Oh, thank God. I"ve been trying to phone you for an hour and finally found Clara"s number in Delia"s phone?—"
"Mary?" Adrenaline surged through him. Why would Mary be phoning him? Why would she be desperate enough to look up his sister"s number? He grabbed his phone off the nightstand, yanking the charging cord from the wall. It was only ten o"clock. He"d only been asleep for forty-five minutes. Fifteen missed calls.
"Delia was in an accident."
Jack"s blood ran cold as everything seemed to drop into slow motion. There was an accident. She was driving over to drop off the ladder she"d borrowed from the garage. Jack was sitting at the table across from Tony in darkness, his eyes fixed on Delia under the spotlight as he absorbed her lyrics. I"ve never been one to reach for the stars because flying has never felt safe. He was standing in his apartment in Toronto, listening to Angie"s mother weep on the other end of the line. She"s gone, Jack.
"They took her to Toronto General," Mary continued in a rush. "I tried to phone her, but she"s not answering. The only reason I knew is because the security team dinged me—Bryce, her security guard was driving."
"Is she—how bad—" Jack couldn"t form words into sentences. Clara sat next to him on the bed wringing her hands.
"I don"t know, I"m driving over now. I already phoned her mom and Tony. I"ll keep you post?—"
"I"m on my way." Jack stood, throwing off his sheets and ripping open his dresser drawer.
"On your—Jack, no, I wasn"t trying to tell you to get on a plane right?—"
"I"m on my way." He dropped the call and tossed Clara"s phone onto the bed next to her.
"You have a game on Friday." Clara"s eyes were glassy.
"I"m well aware." Jack yanked a pair of trousers from his drawer and shoved his legs into them, then grabbed a shirt and shoved the drawer closed.
Clara looked as if she was going to protest again, but instead she adjusted her robe and stood. "I"ll drive you. Oscar can look for a flight while we"re on our way. Just let me throw on some clothes."
_____
Jack bolted from security the second his backpack came through the machine. He had twenty minutes to get to his gate. Oscar had reached the airline and convinced them to give Jack a seat on the 11:55 p.m. flight. Clara had sped for probably the first time in her life to get him to the airport in record time. Thankfully, because of the late hour, the place was mostly empty.
He was a sweaty mess when he arrived at the still-open door to the walkway. "Jack. Harrison." They"d called his name over the speakers in the terminal twice. He held out his phone so the attendant could scan his boarding pass.
"Glad you made it." She smiled and motioned for him to go through the door.
The past hour and a half of his life settled against his bones as he made the walk to the plane. Delia was in an accident. How? When? He"d been talking to her right before he"d gone to sleep. Why had she left the house?
He found his seat and settled in next to the window, shoving his backpack under the seat. He needed to let his coaches know. He was supposed to be at practice the next morning. Getting permission hadn"t even crossed his mind. The second Mary had said Delia was headed to the hospital, his mind had been made up.
What if she"s already gone? The thought gnawed at his insides with razor teeth. It wasn"t possible. He"d already lost someone he loved in a car accident, and there was no way that could happen twice.
The thought of Delia being taken from him was like being hit by a bucket of scalding water. It washed over him, sweeping away any excuses or rationalizations for why he"d acted the way he had with her. Why he"d pulled back so hard in the beginning. Why he"d harboured so much guilt at the thought of touching her.
Even then he"d known. He"d recognized something in her from the second he"d heard her perform that night at the club. Like chemistry on the ice, he could just feel it. Sense it. As much as he"d tried to push it away, that connection had worn away at him like water through sand.
That night in the hotel room had punched a hole in that dam he"d built three years ago. Then when she said, "I love you" on the way to the airport? Everything had broken loose.
And not just the good things.
He felt again, and it sent him reeling. He"d barely held it together long enough to get food in the suite, then holed up in his hotel room and cried like a baby.
He loved her.
He didn"t think it was possible to love again like that. He didn"t think he was capable of loving. He hated that Angie was gone. Hated that she might exist somewhere and know that he was moving on. But that locked room of his soul had finally burst open and he was alive again. Whole.
Sitting on that plane, he kicked himself for not phoning Delia that night and saying those words back to her. For not having a conversation the next morning or the one after that.
As the plane pressurized, he finally understood why he"d hesitated. That feeling. The one that came with love, the flip side of that coin. With love came fear. He"d thought it was only fear of them not being able to arrange their lives in a way that allowed them both to fit, but he"d been wrong.
It was how he"d felt on the other end of that phone call.
Sitting on the Blizzard bench for the first time.
Walking back into his empty hotel room.
Watching Mary and Alvin drive away from the bed and breakfast.
"Ladies and gentlemen, this is your captain speaking from the flight deck. Welcome aboard Flight 257 with service from Calgary to Toronto. We"re completing our final checks and will be ready to take off in just a few moments. We"re expecting a smooth flight ahead of us. Our flight time today will be approximately three hours and fifty-five minutes, arriving just before six in the morning local time . . ."
Jack pulled his bluetooth headphones from the front pocket of his bag and turned on Delia"s single. The one she secretly hated. His stomach pulled tight like a knotted rope as he thought of her smile. The freckles in her eyes.
He had no control over this. He"d had no control over his career, no control over his engagement ending, and damn, if he hadn"t worked himself to the bone to try and control everything after that night. Yet here he was again, the rug being ripped out from under him.
Jack stared out the window as the plane rumbled along the runway, then sped until the wings found lift. He kept watching until the Calgary city lights faded into tiny specs, then shut the window shade and closed his eyes to the sound of Delia"s voice.
_____
The second the plane touched down, Jack turned on his phone. He didn"t even wait for his texts to come through, just dialed Mary"s number.
"Hey, Jack?—"
"Have you seen her? How is she?" He was desperate to quell the chaos in his gut.
"I"m here. She"s fine. Just sleeping."
The words didn"t process at first. She"s fine. Just sleeping. "What does that mean?"
Mary exhaled. "It means her driver is a damn genius, that"s what it means." She went on to explain the accident in detail. How Bryce had gone forward on a green light and some dumb-ass truck hadn"t stopped at the red. He"d reacted with the least intuitive move possible and turned his car toward the incoming vehicle while he gunned the gas. It meant the front right side of the car took most of the impact instead of the back where Delia was. It meant that instead of a straight-on perpendicular collision that would have slammed their car into oncoming traffic, the car spun to the sidewalk. Jack didn"t realize he was crying until the A/C cranked up and cooled the moisture on his cheeks.
"He saved her life, Jack. If not that, he at least saved her bones from breaking," Mary finished.
Jack fought to drag air into his lungs. "Nothing's broken?"
"Nope. She had to get stitches for a cut on her elbow. Would"ve been her head, but she ducked and her arm hit the glass instead. They kept her here overnight because of a potential concussion and shock. She"s going to be sore when she wakes up, but she should be able to walk out as soon as they get her paperwork."
Jack swallowed the lump in his throat. "Thank you. For the update." He wiped his nose across the back of his hand. "I"ll be there as soon as I can get an Uber."
Mary exhaled. "You"re crazy, you know that? I can"t believe you even found a flight that late. Oh, here, just a second." She moved the phone away from her mouth and started talking to someone. When she returned, she said, "Visiting hours don"t start until nine, so find something to do until then. The nurse told me they"ll get a doctor in to assess things as soon as their shift changes."
Jack"s skin started to itch. He"d barely slept, he was starving, and the last thing he wanted someone to tell him was that he had to kill a few hours. "How are you there if hours don"t start until nine?"
Mary lowered her voice. "Because I told them I"m her sister."
"You look nothing alike."
"I told them I was adopted. My brother said it all the time growing up, and it finally came in handy."
The seatbelt light turned off and Jack grabbed his backpack from under the seat. "Then I"ll tell them I"m her husband."
"Uh, too late for that. I already filled out the form saying she was single."
"She"s not single." Why would they ask that on a hospital intake form?
"Jack, I"m sorry. It was the middle of the night and the thought didn"t cross my mind that you might make it here before visiting hours."
That was fair. He"d caught the last flight out of Calgary by the skin of his teeth. Anything else would"ve put him in the city around noon. "I"ll be there at nine. Thank you for taking care of her."
"The doctors did the hard part. See you soon."
Jack stood with the other passengers and dropped his phone in his pocket. Once they were off the airplane, he headed straight to the rideshare pick-up location and scheduled a trip to Maha"s. It was well past the hospital, but it had been one of his favourite haunts when he"d lived in Toronto.
He rode through the city in a daze, grateful his driver wasn"t chatty. When he arrived, he tipped the driver, then waited for a table for one. It wasn"t until he sat down and ordered that he remembered why he"d found Maha"s in the first place.
Pieces clicked into position, shifting and moving like a Rubik's cube until the colours were complete. Of course he'd ended up here. He knew exactly what he had to do next.
Jack ate to the sound of conversation and clinking forks. His body drooped, his head thick. It was bad enough, he briefly considered booking a hotel room for a few hours until he realized the only hotels that would allow that wouldn"t have rooms or sheets he"d want to nap in. Instead, he finished his meal and started walking. In the past, he'd driven to this part of town, but since he didn"t have a car and the weather was surprisingly warm for seven in the morning in April, he opted to walk.
It was a thirty-minute walk to the cemetery, and the tip of his nose and his cheeks were chilled by the time he made it to the gates. He pulled. They didn"t budge. He trudged to the corner and read the sign that listed their posted hours from eight until four, then sat on a bench in full sunlight.
He"d nearly dozed off with his arms wrapped around his backpack when the jangle of chains snapped the world back into focus. He stood and followed the caretaker through the gates, then started down the path he had memorized. He pressed a hand against the trunk of the ancient maple that marked Angie"s row, then walked down the aisle of barely green grass.
Jack stopped in front of the headstone he"d visited weekly when he still lived there. The one he hadn"t come to in over two years.
Angela Merrick (1995 - 2021)
A spirit too bright for this world, whose love and laughter will forever light our way.
He"d been pissed that her mother had fought for that statement for her headstone. It had seemed too generic. Maybe it still did. But he"d given in when her eyes had shimmered with tears, and he didn"t regret that.
Jack dropped to his knees, wishing he"d thought to bring flowers. "Hey, Ange." His voice sounded strange in the stillness. The sounds of the city were far enough away, all he could hear were the birds. "I still miss you."
It sounded like a confession. I still miss you, even though . . . Jack ran his hands through his hair. "I came here today because I love you, and I needed to tell you the truth, so here it goes. I"ve spent the last three years wishing you didn"t get in that accident. My life would"ve been so different—so much richer. Instead I went back to living with hockey teammates, now with Clara, and I couldn"t ever make my NHL dream happen, either. So that time we argued, and I told you that you wanted too much from me? That I needed more time on the ice? Yeah. I was dead wrong. More time didn"t solve the problem. Especially not away from you."
He paused and pulled a fresh spring shoot out of the dirt. "Then I got a dream job. You would"ve called it a miracle." He chuckled and shifted to sit on the ground. "That was terrifying and . . . probably the most fun I"ve had since you left. Which brings me to the last part of my story." Jack"s chest tightened, and he clenched his jaw. "I met someone, Ange. At first it was just this game we were playing for the press, but I think I knew right from the get-go that it was going to be more than that if I let it. I didn"t want to, at first. I felt like I would be letting you down. But then, it wasn"t something I could fight anymore."
Jack looked up and ran his eyes over her name. The dates she"d lived. "Delia got in an accident last night. I know. Dark irony. But that"s why I"m here. The second I heard something had happened, I didn"t even think. I had to get here to Toronto, and the only other time I"ve experienced that was—" Jack"s voice caught. He took a minute, working against the emotion welling up like water in a bucket. He coughed and cleared his throat. "Was when you phoned and asked me if I wanted to go to the rink. That night we met up with Sammy and Eva. That was the night I knew I wanted to marry you."
He wiped his eyes and drew in a ragged breath. "So. I don"t know how things will go from here, but I love her, Ange. I wanted you to be the first to know."
Jack sat on the chilled ground and waited. What for, he didn"t know. A pillar of light? A bird to land on her headstone? Something mystical to show he had her approval?
He listened to the waking city and searched for any sense of that feeling Country had described. Something whispering this was unfinished.
His heart laid still.
And he knew.
After a few minutes, Jack exhaled and patted the dirt, then dragged himself up and slung his backpack over his shoulders. He whispered one last I love you, then started back to the gates.