Chapter 18

K eeping my phone low so that Coach doesn’t see me using it, I read the message from my mother.

Mom: Paige told me today is your first day of attending practice. Good luck! I love you.

My mom is lucky to have Paige as a daughter-in-law because my communication skills suck. I haven’t been keeping her filled in on the status of my recovery, but given that my mom still isn’t here, it proves to me that she’s giving me and Paige time alone to figure our shit out. I have to say, it was kind of a genius idea, and I’m wondering if she even had the flu.

Me: Thank you. I’m not playing though. Just watching.

Mom: Don’t downplay it, Kolt. It still means you’re on the right path to getting back out on the ice.

Me: Thanks.

I type the message and slide my phone into my pocket, knowing I’m not even supposed to be on it anyway.

I wish I had been watching all the weeks prior, but my doctor knew it would only cause me more stress to watch my team train and not be able to participate. Now that my heart is stronger, he must think it’s safe for me to get stressed the fuck out, being here. Because, to be honest, that’s exactly what this is doing.

Watching my team out there on the ice, running drills that I know I’m strong enough to run, sucks balls. And I know having me here is making a few of the guys who have stepped up in my absence nervous—because every time they fuck up, they glance over at me.

We have a game this coming weekend, but because my appointment isn’t until the following Monday, I won’t get to play. Even if my appointment were sooner, I don’t know if I’d have been cleared.

Physically, I feel fine. I’ve even been able to do more workouts and go on runs. But I’m continuing to be held back, and I fucking despise it. To be honest, if Paige wasn’t living with me, I probably wouldn’t be listening to the doctor. I’d likely be pushing myself to get better faster and wind up more hurt.

I’m working her in slowly, but she’s warmed up to me so much more than the first day I saw her at the hospital. And even though telling her the truth hurt her, I know she understands why I did what I did. As fucked up as it was, I did it all out of love.

Because, fucking hell, I love my wife so much. And it’s clear she still loves me, too, because if she didn’t, she wouldn’t have left her office for weeks to be with me while I got better. She went back there this morning to work half of the day while I was at the arena. Since it’s only an hour away from our house, she said she’s going to be traveling there all week now that I’m feeling better.

But my checkup is a week away. It’s a catch-22. Because, on one hand, I’m wishing time away until I’m told I’m ready to return to work. On the other hand, I’m scared as hell that once they give me a clean bill of health, she’s going to leave me.

There’s some sort of ballet tomorrow night at the theater downtown. I don’t give a shit about ballet, but Paige has mentioned before that she’d like to go, and I’ve never taken her. So, I got us tickets and even booked us a fancy dinner beforehand. I want her to stay more than anything. Even more than I want to get back out on the ice.

Hell, I want her to stay more than I want my next breath.

“I want you to help me come up with our plan for this weekend’s game. It’s against the Bruins, and without you on the ice, I’m worried Hardy and his team might give us a run for our money.”

For fucking sure, I think, but don’t say it.

Cam Hardy is a beast and has been an excellent leader in Boston for years. We have a solid lineup, but with one of us down, it changes the entire dynamic.

And I fucking hate more than anything that if we lose, it could partly be my fault for not being there. Especially when I feel like I could play.

“No doubt they will,” I say, keeping my eyes firmly on the ice. “I’m just pissed off that my appointment isn’t Friday. I’m telling you, Coach, I’m good. I feel good.”

He smacks his hand on my shoulder, forcing me to look over at him. When I do, I’m met with an are you for real expression.

“Kolburne, you can’t be that fucking dense,” he mutters, looking at me like I’m an absolute dumbass. “Even if you did get cleared this week, you have to know it’s going to take a fucking minute for you to regain what you’ve lost.” He squeezes my shoulder. “How many times do I have to tell you, there is no rush back? We don’t need a half-assed-recovered Kolt Kolburne; we need the whole thing. So, while I’m praying like hell that you get cleared on Monday, I hope you know me well enough by now to know I’m not just going to throw you back in the game full force. Hell, you’ll be lucky if you get back on the ice at all this season.”

His words hit me like a ton of bricks. I realize I am one dumb fuck for thinking that the doctor telling me my heart was healed would instantly give me the green light to go back out on the ice. But, Jesus Christ, it’s been weeks. Fucking weeks .

“Speak, Kolburne,” he barks. “Do you understand or not?”

“Yeah,” I huff out, my jaw tensing. “I get it. It just … fucking sucks dick. I feel good, Coach. I know I could fucking play.”

Pity flashes across his face, and he nods meekly. “I know. And that look in your eyes right now? That hunger? I’ve seen it before. I saw it in your very first season with us. But you’re this close, Kolt.” He holds his thumb and finger up, keeping them a mere inch apart. “This. Close. And then this will be behind you. Don’t fuck it up now by pushing yourself too far. Okay?”

“Yes, sir,” I utter honestly. “I won’t.”

Slapping me on the back, he jerks his chin toward the ice. “Help me get these clowns ready?”

“Beats sitting here,” I say, attempting to joke before following him onto the ice.

He’s right. I’m almost there. Just a little bit further to go. And hopefully, when it’s time to go back to work … my wife will be back in the stands again.

I want to get better to play the game. But more than that, I want my wife to tell me she’s staying.

After seeing a few of my patients this morning, I’m in the car and headed toward Portland. As good as it was to see everyone and be back, things felt different there. Not as … home-like as they did a few weeks ago, before my life got turned upside down and I had to leave. While it was nice to see the place running smoothly despite my absence, it was glaringly obvious that I had built a team that didn’t necessarily need me there to keep going.

The drive home isn’t nearly as peaceful as I imagined it would be. My mind can’t relax, and I just keep thinking about everything that’s happened between Kolt and me since I returned to take care of him.

Something else that keeps going through my mind is imagining the day he gets the all clear to return to play hockey. I’ve watched him play hundreds of times. I’ve seen him take hits, watched doctors check him for concussions, stood beside a stretcher while they loaded him into the back of an ambulance as a safety measure. But until a few weeks ago, I never watched him lie in a hospital bed, unconscious, with the possibility of not waking up after suffering a heart attack. And even though I’m a physical therapist and I understand the risks of playing high-intensity sports, nothing has prepared me for the awakening that Kolt is playing with fire. And one day, he might burn to the ground.

My father played hockey until I was ten years old. And after that, he coached. I know what it’s like to see your own dad take a hit and cover your eyes because you’re scared to watch in case he doesn’t get up. If the universe ever granted us a child, I don’t know if I’d want our baby to have the stress of that.

But I also know if Kolt and I were ever lucky enough to have a child of our own, I’d want to teach them that you should chase your dreams and find what ignited that spark inside your soul. What would it say about me if they found out I was so scared of their dad getting hurt again that I forced him to hang up his skates?

And now, I’m thinking about hypothetical children that we might never even have.

Bringing up my dad’s contact on the screen of my car, I hit Call. After a few rings, his voice floods through the speakers.

“There’s my favorite child,” he says, and I can envision his amused grin suddenly.

“That’s right. I was such a perfect kid that you stopped at me, knowing you’d never be so lucky again,” I joke back with him, just like I always do. “You could have ten kids, Dad, and I’d still be your favorite.”

“Depends if they were all as much of a pain in the ass as you are,” he teases. “How’s it going in Maine? Mom said you’re back at the office this week. How’s that going? Bet your patients were happy to see you.”

“It’s … good, I suppose.” I clear my throat awkwardly. “And, yeah, I’m working in the mornings while Kolt is at the arena. I’m happy to see my patients and the crew, but to be honest, they’ve been keeping everything running just fine without me.”

“You sound bummed about that,” he points out. “Were you hoping it was a dumpster fire and they had to cry for you or something?”

Sort of. I don’t say it out loud, but I bob my head back and forth, thinking about it before realizing I’m being crazy.

“No. I mean, I guess I assumed I was more … like … important. And needed.” I sigh. “Turns out, that place is just fine without me. And I’m happy. Really, I am. If they didn’t keep it running smoothly, it would have made my life a lot harder the past few weeks, being with Kolt during his recovery. But I don’t know, Dad. I walked in there today, and I didn’t even feel like it was my office anymore.” I continue to drive, looking straight ahead mindlessly. “It felt like it was someone else’s.”

As soon as the words leave my lips, I know my dad is going to hit me with some fatherly advice. How could he not? I set him up perfectly for it.

“Did you ever think maybe there’s a reason for that?” he asks gently. Even though I know he already knows the answer anyway. “Perhaps it felt more like your place before you went back home.” He pauses. “Your real home.”

“I worked so hard to get that office, Dad,” I say, growing defensive.

“I know you did, sweetie. I’m not saying otherwise.” He sighs. “You’ll figure out what’s the next move on your own terms. And whatever it is, it’ll be great.”

Portland and Boothbay aren’t far enough apart that I could never visit again if I moved back in with Kolt. But making the commute daily? That would be rough.

“Not all my clients are going to follow me to Portland if I decide to stay here,” I utter. “It’s an hour’s drive for the ones who live in Boothbay.”

“So, don’t make them,” he says matter-of-factly. Like we aren’t talking about what I’m going to do with a physical therapy office I created from scratch. “Like I said, you’ll figure out what’s best for you. On your terms, no one else’s. But this leads me to ask, how is Kolt doing?”

“He’s doing good. All things considering,” I say, pressing the button on my seat warmer.

November in Maine can be cool, cold, or freezing. And today, it’s freezing out. We have yet to see any first flakes of snow, but I anticipate it’ll be any day, and I, for one, can’t wait.

Normally, I’d have the tree up by now. The first week of November, it’s holly, jolly time. That’s always been my motto. But Kolt’s accident happened before I got the chance to put mine up. And now, I feel weird, putting a tree up in a house where I might not be living at during Christmas.

I mean, how do you erase the past year and a half plus? We can’t pretend like it didn’t happen. It haunts me daily.

“You still there?” my dad says, pulling me from my mixed thoughts of Christmas trees and my messy marriage. “Did you lose service? Maine needs to figure their shit out with cell phone towers.”

“I’m here.” I press my elbow on my door and push my hand into my hair. “What did you say?”

“I asked if there’s been any mention of him returning anytime soon. I know you can’t listen to everything you hear on SportsCenter , but there’s been some talk that he might not play again till next season.”

“I have no idea. But, yeah, Kolt’s hoping to be back the second the doctor gives him a clean bill of health,” I say sharply but honestly. “The man had a heart attack. One would think he’d understand that he can’t rush back. Or consider the risk of playing again at all!”

And now, I’m frustrated. I’ve kept everything to myself since I first saw him lying unconscious in that bed. But the truth is, deep down, a part of me wishes he’d just retire. No matter what the doctor tells him, I’m a trained professional. And the heart is never exactly the same after a heart attack—everyone knows that.

“Paige Elizabeth,” my dad says sternly into the phone. “You know that man well enough by now to know he isn’t going to walk away from the game because of this. You’ve been married to him for quite some time now. Long enough to know that this sport gave him life.” He stops for a second, but I know he’s going to continue scolding me. “I understand you’re scared. You have every right to be. But you know where he came from. Hockey saved his life as much as you did. You can’t expect him to give it up just because you’re afraid he’s going to get hurt.”

“He will get hurt again, Dad,” I say immediately, gripping the steering wheel so tight that my knuckles turn white. “You know that.”

“Talk to him about this. He has no way of knowing how you’re feeling or what you’re thinking if you don’t.” He inhales so drastically that I hear it through the phone. “I truly believe he’d walk away from it all if he could have you. The question is … are you really going to ask him to do that?”

“No,” I whisper. “I—I don’t know what to do.” I pinch the bridge of my nose with one hand, keeping the other snugly on the wheel. “I have to stop for gas. I’ll call you later.”

“Don’t be mad. Just talk to him,” he says softly. “Love you.”

“I love you too.”

Ending the call, I pull into the gas station parking lot and kill the engine.

His words hit deep. Because truthfully, I know I could never ask Kolt to do such a thing. I don’t even know who he would be without hockey. It’s not only his job; it’s who he is. And my dad’s right; it gave him life when he had nothing else. Back when his home life was shit and his father was making his world hell, he could turn to the ice, and it always had his back.

Yet I also know my dad is right about something else. Kolt would walk away if I asked him to. Because that’s how much he loves me. And that love should be enough, shouldn’t it? But everyone knows love isn’t the only thing a relationship needs to survive.