41. Aubrey

41

Aubrey

In the stark, glaring light of the hospital corridor, my heart's pounding like it’s trying to break out of my chest. I'm standing there, feeling like I've just been dropped into a nightmare, listening to the doctor rattle off Sean's condition.

"He's got a severe concussion, and there's been some trauma to his shoulder," he explains, each word slicing through the fog of shock I'm in.

Jack’s right next to me, solid as a rock. He gives the doctor a nod, soaking up every detail with the seriousness of a general in battle. "Thank you, Doctor. We appreciate all you're doing," he says, his voice steady.

When I finally find my voice, it feels distant, like it's not even mine. "How did it happen? Was anyone else hurt?" I ask, needing the facts like I need air, hoping they'll somehow make this disaster less real.

"He veered into the opposing lane. Miraculously, no other vehicles were involved," the doctor says, all professional and detached.

I let out a breath I didn’t realize I was holding, a mix of relief and fresh worry swirling inside me. Relief that it was just Sean in this mess, and a tight knot of fear about what’s next for him.

I turn to Jack, searching for a bit of his unshakeable calm. "He's tough, Aubrey. He’ll fight through this," he reassures me, but the worry lines etched deep on his face betray his own fears.

Tears threaten to spill over, but I blink them back fiercely. "I thought he was getting better," I say softly, the words floating out frail and trembling.

"We'll handle it," Jack says with a firmness that almost convinces me. "He needs us strong now."

I turn to the doctor, the question pressing on my chest. “When can we see him?” My voice is steadier than I feel.

“He’s still unconscious. We’ll let you know as soon as there’s any change,” he replies with a practiced calm that doesn’t quite reach his eyes.

I bite back a darker question, one that’s clawing at my throat— what if he doesn’t wake up? Instead, I nod, swallowing the fear.

Jack thanks the doctor and moves away to update everyone else—Luke, Emma, Violet, and Jake—who've all gathered in a tight-knit cluster of worry just outside the waiting area.

Left alone with the doctor, he leans in closer, his voice dropping. “There’s something else you should know. We found some unusual substances in his blood work. Not drugs or alcohol,” he hastens to add at my sharp intake of breath, “but some kind of homeopathic medicine. It’s possible it contributed to the accident.”

My heart skips a beat. “Homeopathic? Are you saying this could have impaired him?”

“It’s a possibility,” he admits, his brow furrowing. “If that’s the case, there might be legal repercussions. Driving under the influence of any substance that impairs ability can lead to charges.”

He excuses himself to check on Sean, leaving me standing there, a mess of emotions. Fury, fear, and a fierce protectiveness over Sean swirl inside me. Homeopathic medicines?

I flash back to that day with him passed out in his chair, Luke missing. He’d taken some herbal treatment and drank. Did he do it again?

My blood runs cold at the idea. If he’s made the same mistake twice, drinking while taking some strange pills, that might be the end for us. I simply wouldn’t be able to trust him again.

What was he thinking? And yet, my heart aches for him, trapped by his own attempts to find relief from the pain.

Then again, the doctor had said he hadn’t had any alcohol. I don’t know what to think.

I pace the floor, each step echoing my racing thoughts. The implications are enormous, not just for Sean’s health, but for his legal standing, his career, our family. What will I tell Luke? How do we explain this to a child who sees his Uncle Sean as a superhero?

And how the hell am I supposed to bring Sean into Luke’s life as his dad if he can’t be trusted to take care of himself?

The weight of the situation settles on my shoulders like a lead cloak. I need to be strong, for Sean, for Luke, for all of us. But first, I need Sean to wake up. I need to hear his side of the story. I need to understand why.

I glance back at the closed door of his room, wishing I could will him awake with the sheer force of my need. We have so much to sort through, so many threads of our lives to untangle. And it all starts with him opening his eyes.

I'm sitting in the stark white hospital corridor, the relentless hum of fluorescent lights above mingling with the low murmur of distant conversations. If it comes out that Sean was under the influence, even unintentionally, his chances at a return to the NHL could evaporate like a shallow puddle under a punishing sun.

As I ponder the wreckage of his dreams, Emma approaches, her expression a mixture of concern and resolve. "Anything I can do to help?" she offers.

I shake my head, my gaze fixed on the floor. "Thanks, Em. You're already doing so much."

Just then, Annie White breezes through the hospital doors, her presence like a breath of fresh air. She greets us, asking with concern about Sean.

"I'll take Luke and Violet for the night," she declares, her tone brooking no argument. "You all need to focus here."

"Thank you, Annie," I manage, the gratitude genuine but heavy in my chest.

Once Emma and Annie depart with the children, the silence stretches taut between me and Jack, who has been a silent sentinel by the window. Finally, I break it. "Jack, what if this is a relapse?" My voice is barely a whisper, laden with all the fears I dare not let take root.

Jack turns to face me, his features carved from stone. "Then we deal with it," he says, his voice gruff. "But I can't... I can't believe he'd be so reckless. After everything... And knowing he’s a dad…”

His pain is palpable, and it mirrors my own—a blend of disappointment and sharp fear.

"We need to talk about next steps," I say, trying to inject some steel into my voice. "We can't have this hanging over our heads. What if the media gets wind of it?"

Jack rubs his temples, the weight of years etched deeper with worry. "First, we wait for him to wake up. We need his side of the story. Then, we consider rehab or therapy—whatever it takes."

"And the NHL?" I prod gently.

He sighs, a sound so laden with resignation it makes my heart ache. "If he's done, he's done. I'd rather have my son alive and whole than chasing a puck at the cost of his health."

Jack's voice drops, rough with emotion. "You know, this land, this ranch—it’s been our salvation through everything. When Lucy died, when Marcie abandoned Violet and Jake, every time life tries to knock us down, this place holds us together. The Davidsons only see dollar signs. To them, this land is prime real estate, a potential jackpot for their grand casino scheme. James Davidson knows the tourism dollars he could rake in, and he’s been waiting for any sign of struggle from us to swoop in and buy it out. He doesn’t understand that this isn’t just land; it’s a legacy.”

“Every fence post, every barn beam, every square inch has an Ice family story carved into it. This ranch was never meant to be flashy or profitable. It’s a place that’s seen our highest and lowest moments, a place that has carried us through when nothing else would. And sometimes, I swear I can still feel Lucy’s spirit here, in the wind that sweeps over the fields or the quiet of the trees. This land holds her memory as surely as it holds us.”

Jack clenches his fist, his frustration clear. "But Davidson doesn’t care about that. To him, it’s all about transforming Cedar Creek into some tourist spectacle, some glitzy casino attraction that would destroy the peace and history of this land. He wants to bulldoze all this—our home—for flashing lights and quick money. But for me and my family, it’s worth far more than he’ll ever understand. And I’ll be damned if I let him take it away. And Sean... he used to follow me around as a kid, studying every part of it like he was memorizing a love letter. He knew every tree, every creek. This place gave him—and all of us—a sense of belonging."

My throat tightens at the raw honesty and heartfelt emotion in his words. "I see that in him sometimes, when he's with Luke."

"Exactly. Hockey was his escape, but this ranch? It's his anchor. Always has been." Jack's eyes, so like Sean's, meet mine. "That's what scares me most about all this. If he loses both - the game and his connection to this land - I don't know if he'll find his way back."

I nod, unable to argue with his logic. The fear of losing Sean to his own demons is too sharp, too real. We sit together in the waiting area, united in our vigil, the minutes stretching into hours. Each tick of the clock is a reminder of what's at stake—not just a career, but a life, our family's heartbeat.

"We'll get through this," Jack says after a long silence, his hand finding mine in a rare display of vulnerability. "We have to."

"Yes," I agree, squeezing his hand. "We will. Together." And as we wait for Sean to wake, I steel myself for the difficult conversations ahead, the choices that will define our future. But for now, we wait, hope mingling with fear in the sterile air of the hospital.