Chapter 42

Eliza

“Can I say that I think there might be a bad omen for players coming up from the Bears to the Assassins?” Louisa asks, and I know she’s just trying to keep me distracted. “I mean, I end up in the hospital after Ciaran’s first game, and now Coleson. Like, that’s unsettling. Wait. Maybe we’re a bad omen…”

I don’t answer her. I can’t. I’ve chewed a hole in my lip since we arrived. My heart is in my throat, and silent tears roll down my cheeks as I watch the doors like they’re the only thing that exists at this moment. In a way, they are, because Coleson was taken back through them, unconscious. I still can’t get the image out of my head of that bastard Barnes rushing into my husband, lifting him off his skates, and Coleson coming down and snapping his leg. Never in my life have I seen a fully grown, over-six-foot man do a flip, but once he was in the air, I knew it wasn’t going to be good.

I screamed as he went airborne, and when he landed, I felt like I was going to pass out. Hell, I still do. After seeing my husband’s leg to the side of his knee and then how the trainers covered it with a towel as they assessed him, I vomited everywhere and then promptly started sobbing. It wasn’t supposed to happen this way. He’d just scored.

Why did this happen?

Beside me, Austen says, “I didn’t get hurt, nor has Dimitri. Knock on wood.” She quickly knocks her knuckles on her head.

As my sisters go back and forth, suggesting ways to break the curse we seem to have, my eyes stay on the surgery doors. I chew the inside of my left cheek since I’ve already ruined my right. My throat is burning with emotion, my heart aching, and I just want to see him.

I didn’t get to kiss him or wish him luck for the surgery. I don’t even know if he heard me yell that I loved him as they wheeled him through the doors. Probably not, since he was unconscious. I hope he did. Just in case.

No, don’t do that. Don’t go down the road. Everything will be fine. He’ll be fine. We’re fine. My leg bounces as I pick at my nails and then any piece of skin I can find to pick at. My eyes don’t leave the doors, and I can’t think straight.

More tears fall.

People come and go to check on me as I wait. Dimitri and Ciaran are the sweetest and stayed, even though I couldn’t bring myself to greet them. I don’t talk to anyone. The only reason I eat or drink anything is because Clara physically forces me too. She’s not the nicest when she’s playing momma bear. She pinches my boob to get me to open my mouth for a protein bar.

Asshole.

She and Elliot drove up once they heard what happened. My sisters take turns sandwiching me between them and forcing me to eat. Elliot has taken charge of my phone and is answering the coffeehouse when they call to check in. While it’s only been six hours, it feels like a hundred. Each minute that passes makes me think the surgery isn’t going well, but Louisa doesn’t feel the same. It’s almost like she reads my mind as she checks her phone.

“I know it’s taking a while, but I promise, they’re great here. It’s Vanderbilt, for goodness’ sake,” she gushes, squeezing my hand with her free one. “They know what they’re doing and are probably doing everything to make sure he can still play.”

Still play? How in the world…? But I know Coleson will still want to play. He isn’t the kind of man to give up so easily. He fought for himself when no one else would. If he wants to play, I’ll support him. If he doesn’t, that’s fine too. Whatever he wants, I’ll support. I just want him to be okay. I just want to hear his voice. Taste his lips. Feel his arms around me. Be called “Wife.”

Before I can start crying again, Coach Riggs enters the room. His eyes fall on me, and a grimace fills his features. I hold back my tears as I give him a forced smile of appreciation. He doesn’t smile back, nor waste time. “Any word?” he asks, his Scottish accent soothing.

I shake my head, and beside me, Clara says, “He’s still in there. A nurse came out and said things are progressing and he’s stable.”

“Aye, when’s he going to come out?”

“We don’t know,” she says sadly, cupping my hand.

Coach looks between us and then back to me. He holds out his hand, and I don’t know why, but I take it. He pulls me into his arms, hugging me tightly. And I can’t. I come undone, clinging to him, engulfed by his spicy scent. “Aye there, lass. He’s a strong lad, and I have no doubts he’ll be out soon, you hear? No worries now. Everything will be fine.”

He pats the back of my head, and I now know why Coleson adores him so. I wish Coleson had had this kind of man in his life while he was growing up, but having his coach come when he did is such a blessing. I squeeze him. “Thank you.”

“Of course.” He pulls back and holds me at arm’s length. “Now you get all that crying done here. Because once we’re with him, we’ll both have to hold it together, aye? A united front?” I nod, and the sweet man wipes my tears away. “That’s a good lass.” He guides me down into the chair, and I watch as he walks over to where Ciaran and Dimitri sit, playing on their phones.

As the men welcome one another, Clara leans in, “I think I came.”

I whip my gaze to hers. Gaping at her, I smack her thigh. “Clara Drew! What in the world?”

She waggles her brows at me. “Um. I know you’re not blind. That man is hot.”

“He’s, like, forty.” But even so, Coach McCoy is a good-looking man. Strong jaw, large shoulders, dark hair, and a dark beard that covers that strong jaw. He’s tall and trim, with massive legs and the darkest brown eyes I’ve ever seen. I see the appeal, but he’s almost twenty years older than my little sister. Surely she’s just messing around.

A sneaky grin moves over her face. “Mm, an experienced man with an accent… Where do I sign up for a ride?”

I guess not.

I roll my eyes, but then I laugh. Leave it to Clara to make me laugh. She’s such a dork. She leans into me, and I lean back, pressing my head to hers. We stay like that until the doors fly open, and a rather young-looking doctor walks through. His eyes are like a pond, bluish-green, and he looks more like a hockey player than a doctor. Dark hair, sharp jaw, and an easygoing grin. My eyes fall to his coat that reads Dr. P. Kalahandi, Sports Medicine.

My mouth goes dry as I stand, and he out holds his hand. “Mrs. Katz?”

My heart is pounding in my chest as I shake his hand. “Yes,” I somehow croak out. “Is Coleson okay?”

His eyes are so kind as he nods. “Yes, the surgery went off without a hitch. Let me show you what I did.” He opens his tablet, and it’s hard to hold in all the protein bars Clara stuffed into my mouth when I see the break Coleson sustained. Dr. Kalahandi is quick, efficient, and I enjoy that he doesn’t talk down to me. He makes sure I understand as I listen to how he used a rod to fix Coleson’s leg. “It’s going to be a hell of a recovery. Long and grueling, but if he’s like every hockey player I know, he’ll be on the ice this time next year. He’ll be wearing a non-contact jersey, but he’ll be out there.”

I swallow hard. “When can I see him?”

Dr. Kalahandi grins widely at me. “A nurse will be out to get you soon. They’re getting him settled, but I know you’ve been anxious, so I wanted to come reassure you.”

I squeeze his hand. “Thank you, Doctor.”

“Absolutely,” he says with a wink. “See you soon.”

As he walks away, Elliot leans in and whispers, “Do you think he has time to examine between my legs?”

I look at my sister and then Clara. What in the hell am I going to do with these two? I shake my head as the tears stream down my face in rivers. Waves of relief hit me like five-hundred-pound bricks, and I finally feel like I can breathe again. And what do I do with that first real breath? I laugh. Hysterically and I probably sound like I belong in a loony bin, but everything is going to be just fine.

Because Coleson has me, and I have him.

I won’t accept anything else.