Chapter 5

“ W hat’d you eat today, some extra Wheaties?” Walker says, nudging my side. “I wouldn’t want to meet you in a dark alley.”

I chuckle, shaking my head. “Hey, someone’s got to keep your scrawny ass safe.”

Walker isn’t scrawny, but he’s not quite as big as me either. I’m a defenseman. I have to be solid to take the types of hits that I do. As a center, he’s built more for speed and agility.

“Poppy likes my ass,” he jokes before skating off as Logan comes closer.

“What, are you trying to impress me, Sterns? Or are you showing off for Amelia and Maci?” I joke, smirking at Logan. “Whatever it is, keep it up.”

“Maybe a bit of both. That week Amelia was sick, I missed having her and Mace at my games. Plus, now that Maci and I are official and shit, I can’t come out here and suck ass.” He swats the back of his hand against my abdomen. “But you’re the real MVP tonight. So, keep doing what you’re doing out there, big dawg. Making me look good.” He winks. “What am I even saying? We both know I already look good.”

I jerk my chin toward the stands, where his daughter and nanny turned girlfriend are sitting. “You want me to keep taking the hits and you skate on through, smellin’ like roses for those two?” I say in a serious tone, but he knows I’m just fucking with him.

“I mean, yeah,” he says shamelessly before he turns toward them, holding up a hand and making them both smile. “I don’t need Maci figuring out she’s too good for me or anything.”

“Aye, aye, Captain.” I smack his back. “Let’s get on with it.”

As we skate back to our positions before the puck goes into play, I can’t help but realize how Logan seems to carry himself even stronger on the ice when his daughter and girlfriend are in the stands. And I didn’t think that was possible because the dude was a complete animal—and still is. I think of how good it used to feel to have Paige in the stands. There was nothing like looking up and seeing her in my jersey, cheering me on. My wife. The most beautiful woman in any arena she stepped into.

No one understands how important it is to have support until it’s gone.

My mom comes to some of my games, but my brother lives in Washington, playing pro hockey out there. So, she’s always trying to bounce between our schedules, traveling between New England and Washington. It helps that we each bought her a house close to our respective arenas, but the truth is, she’s closer to Klay.

I love my mom and all, and I feel terrible for everything she went through with my shitbag father, but even now that he’s dead, she continues to talk about him like he wasn’t an abusive prick. And because I’m always waiting for her to bring him up, her presence puts me on edge before she even has a chance to speak, and I know that isn’t right, but it’s just how it is. It’s also probably why she and I have a hard time spending time together. I’m sort of a dick. What can I say?

My brother, Klay, is happy-go-lucky. And full of fucking sunshine. That’s what Mom has always called him too— Sunshine. The only time I’ve felt the sun shine on me was when my wife was around.

I’m the brother who would get into a fight at an event if someone said something inappropriate to Paige. Klay is the brother who would walk away when someone tried to rattle him, letting it roll right off his shoulders.

The puck goes into play, snapping my ass back to the present. We’re only up by one with a minute left on the clock. A minute might be short in everyday life, but on the ice, it’s for-fucking-ever. And I’ve seen too many games get tied up in those last fifty-nine seconds.

When our opponent gets possession of the puck, I skate toward it, ready to stop the other team from taking it any further, just like I’ve been doing all night. I have a job to do, and right now in my life, this job is the only thing I have going for me. The one thing I can’t fuck up.

But as I get close enough, a flash of a yellow jersey comes toward me so quickly that I don’t even have time to think until I’m smashed against the plexiglass.

His elbow drives into my chest, and the impact of it is so fucking intense that it practically renders my chest protector useless as my stick flies from my hand. I know instantly that if I didn’t have it on, I’d be a fucking goner. Even as he moves away from me, the pain doesn’t stop. In fact, it gets worse. Abruptly, I feel really fucking lightheaded.

I can’t yell for help or even signal to someone that I’m in trouble. All I can do is grab my chest. I claw at it with my gloves, as if, somehow, that might stop the pain.

But my efforts are useless. My head grows fuzzier, and then, suddenly, everything around me goes dark.

As I pop a few pieces of candy corn into my mouth and start chewing, my phone rings. I frown at the number but know I’d better pick it up because it likely has to do with work.

“Hello?” I answer, positive it’s an emergency call about a patient.

“Is this Paige Kolburne?” the caller asks.

When the man on the other end refers to me as Paige Kolburne, I know this call has nothing to do with one of my patients. I might legally be Paige Kolburne, but since the separation, I’ve resorted back to Paige Hendrix in my day-to-day life.

“This is she,” I say.

When he speaks again, my stomach churns, and my heart sinks.

“I’m calling from Casco Bay General Hospital in Portland, Maine. I’m contacting you in regard to Kolt Kolburne. We have you listed as his wife and emergency contact.” There’s a short pause. “Is that correct?”

“Yes,” I blurt out, unsure of why I’d still be listed as his emergency contact, but I’m not going to tell him that. “Is he all right?”

“Mrs. Kolburne, I’m sorry to tell you this over the phone. Mr. Kolburne was injured in his game today and appears to have experienced a heart attack.”

“Are you serious?” I choke out. “A heart attack? He had a heart attack? Oh my God. But … he’s going to be okay, right?” I cry, tears filling my eyes. “He’s young. He’s healthy.”

Another pause, which only makes me more anxious.

“Because of the type of injury sustained, it’s really difficult to know for sure. But your husband has the best doctors working on him—I promise you that.”

As the man gives me the rest of the details of Kolt’s injury and his current condition, I feel like I might throw up. But I have no time for that. I need to get my shoes and sweatshirt on and race to the hospital. It’ll take me at least an hour to get there, and then I’ll need to find parking.

“I’ll be there as soon as I can,” I say quickly. “I live about an hour away.”

“Okay, Mrs. Kolburne. Drive safe. He’s in good hands,” the man says before ending the call.

Tucking my phone into my back pocket, I pull my sneakers on and grab a hoodie. I’m not prepared to see Kolt lying in a hospital bed. Right now, he’s in intensive care. He hasn’t woken up yet. Apparently, he took a hard hit on the ice that gave him a literal heart attack.

The thought alone makes my lip tremble and my chest ache. My body shakes, but I force myself to get out the door. I’m not sure why I’m Kolt’s emergency contact, but the fact is, I am. So, dammit, I’m going to be there for him. Especially since I know what it’s like to wake up in a hospital room without him being there. I don’t want him to experience that, the way I did a few months ago.

A part of me hates this man. But a bigger part is still stupidly in love with him. And that’s going to make seeing him hurt harder.

It doesn’t matter what happened between us because since we were seventeen years old, we’ve had each other’s back. In the past year and a half, maybe we lost sight of that, but right now, it’s crystal clear—I need to be there for my husband. The rest doesn’t matter.

At least not until he wakes up.

I look down at Kolt’s body, and I feel sick. I don’t know what I was expecting, but this isn’t it. There are so many machines hooked up to him, and his body is lifeless, aside from the steady rise of his chest. His handsome face looks pained, even as he sleeps. And I long to reach out and cup his stubbly cheek, but I refrain.

As a hockey player, he’s always been bulkier and more muscled than most. But that’s what makes him so important to the team—because he’s such a damn bull. Not to mention, his tattooed-covered body is so not the norm for most hockey players. The funny part is, he was only seventeen when we met, so he didn’t have any of them yet. But when he turned eighteen, he got obsessed with them. I’ve watched him get countless tattoos over the years, but as I let my eyes rake over his arms … I see some new ones too.

My breath catches in my throat when I spot one on his arm that looks like me.

As I stare down at the ink that is undoubtedly a portrait of my face, I frown. Why would he want his estranged wife, who left him, on his body?

I pull my stare from my face inked on him, and my heart flutters as I take in the sheer hugeness of his biceps. I swallow down some drool before it starts dripping from my mouth. Kolt has always been the most rugged man I know, but right now, he just looks weak and shattered.

Because I broke all speed limits to get here, I made it in fifty-six minutes. Deep down, I knew I wanted to be here when he opened his eyes. But I also knew I needed to be here if his condition worsened and he didn’t wake up because I’d never want Kolt to lie here all alone.

“You can talk to him, hon,” the nurse says sweetly, looking at the monitor. “He might not respond, but I promise, somewhere inside, he can hear you.”

As a physical therapist, I know that’s not necessarily true. He probably won’t hear me, but even so, her saying that he could makes me even more nervous. Does Kolt even want to hear me? Maybe he forgot I was his emergency contact and I’m the last person he’s going to want to see. If and when he wakes up, will he want me here? Or will I just make matters worse?

Not that long ago, I would have known without a shadow of a doubt that he’d want me to be sitting next to him right now. I’d have likely been the only one he would want here. But now, I don’t know if that’s true anymore.

“I’ll give you two some privacy and be back in a few,” she says kindly. “If you need anything, don’t hesitate to push the call button. I won’t be far.”

“Thanks,” I answer softly.

When the nurse leaves the room, I slowly take the seat next to the bed. Looking at his hand on the bed, I swallow thickly. In some ways, everything about Kolt feels familiar. But right now, it feels like I’m sitting next to a complete stranger.

I don’t know what he’s been doing in the time we’ve been apart. He might have a girlfriend—or even a fiancée for all I know. Someone else might think they know him better than I ever did. And maybe they are right. But for ten years, this man was my life. So, even if he has moved on, I know parts of him that I’m confident no one ever will.

Because we grew up together.

But then … we grew apart.

Moving my hand, I hover it above his before finally taking it into mine. It’s such a simple gesture—holding hands. And yet I can feel it everywhere. Tears well in my eyes as every inch of my skin awakens to the familiarity of his touch. I let my eyes roam his handsome face, swallowing thickly.

It’s like I’ve been homesick for so long, and now, my home is so close that I can touch it, yet I can’t fully walk inside. So, instead, I’m stuck looking through a window and admiring from afar. It’s painful as hell, and even though I know it won’t, I swear this sensation might kill me.

Unsure of what to even say, I clear my throat and force myself to speak. “You know, it’s normally me who brings the dramatics. Usually over a squirrel getting into my car. Or … a spider in our bed.” My voice cracks, turning it into a dull croak. “Look at you, taking a page out of my book.”

My vision grows cloudy as I let the tears flow down my cheeks. I look at a man I’ve always thought to be invincible. Since I’ve known him, he’s been the strongest human alive in my eyes. He survived a childhood of absolute hell with his abusive father. He came from literally nothing and clawed his way all the way to the top in the hockey world, earning respect of the highest degree. He’s always put everyone else above himself.

Well, until he didn’t.

No marriage or relationship is perfect. Like every couple, Kolt and I had our rough times. But no matter what, we always knew we’d rather go through hardships together than ever do anything apart. Until one day, that no longer was true.

And look at us now.

I failed us, and I failed his mother’s wishes. All she wanted was for her son to be happy after everything he went through as a child. Despite the guilt I feel for failing as a wife, I know I fought for my husband until I mentally had nothing left to give. Every failed marriage has that breaking point. The place when you’ve lost too much of yourself and it’s time to bow out, no matter how hard it is to admit it. You almost feel it coming too. Moving in like a darkness.

I’ve always said that, in my experience, marriage is like the ocean. The waves can get rough, cold, and even hostile at times. Sometimes, it feels like the unforgiving seas might never end. But after the tides turn, finally, there’s that calm.

I truly thought we could weather any storm, but the truth is … I got tired of feeling like I was drowning. And when the calm never came and the seas got rougher, the only thing left was continuous waves, crashing against us and pulling us farther and farther apart from each other. I felt like I was swimming in the ocean all alone, and it didn’t matter how hard I swam; I couldn’t reach him.

I might have been the one who left, but Kolt had pushed me to do it. Yet when I got the phone call that he was hurt, I dropped everything to be here. Because Kolt, despite it all, has power over me. I love him more than I have ever loved anything or anyone else.

Even after everything, he’s still my person. He will always be my person.

The only thing that matters to me is him waking up. I can’t wait until he opens his beautiful eyes, and even though it’s going to hurt, watching him struggle—because I know my husband and lying in a hospital bed is going to upset him—I’ll be right here for it.

Digging out my phone, I pull in a deep breath and let it out. I know I need to call his mom and brother. They should have been his emergency contacts, not me. Yet here we are.

I just hope hearing the news from me won’t hurt them more.