Chapter 27

Tears are streaming downmy face as the X-ray tech forces my leg straight so she can take a picture of my bones. I've never been a big crier, but I've also never experienced pain like this. I'm praying nothing is broken.

When the guys slammed into me, I instantly knew something was fucked from the way my leg tangled into the net, and I felt something pop.

What will I do if this injury prevents me from playing the rest of the season? I don't want to let my team down. Not after we've been doing so well all season. Our team has been working like a well-oiled machine, but all it takes is one piece not to work well, and everything falls apart.

Fuck!

Once the X-ray is done, I'm sent for an MRI for a different look at my leg. By the time I'm back in my room, I am spiraling and exhausted. But there is a man who always makes everything better, waiting for me when I arrive, and if I had the strength to leap into his arms, I would.

"You're here," I whisper, and he smiles as the nurse helps situate me in the hospital bed.

"I'll step out and give you two a moment," Melissa, the team's trainer, who has been by my side the entire time, states before leaving the room behind the nurse.

"Of course I'm here," Ian says, pulling up a chair and sitting beside the bed. "I saw what happened and rushed over here once I found out where you were being taken. Sorry I wasn't here sooner."

I shake my head and reach for his hand, squeezing it tightly. "It's okay. You're here now, and that's all that matters. But where's your sister?" I ask, suddenly remembering I was supposed to meet her today.

"Rio said he would take her back to my place," he shares, and I nod, settling into the shitty hospital bed. "How are you feeling?"

"Like a truck ran over my leg," I grumble.

"I'm pretty sure that's to be expected. Have they given you any hints as to what's going on?"

I shake my head and sigh. "I wish, but so far, nothing. I've gotten an X-ray and an MRI. Now, I guess it's just a waiting game. Melissa has a solid poker face. If she's clued into anything, she isn't letting it slip."

"No matter what happens, I'll be here for you. You're going to get through this," he assures me, and I want to believe him, but I'm struggling.

Right now, all my thoughts are about letting my team down. If I had only been paying a tiny bit more attention, maybe I could have gotten out of the way before the other players slammed into me.

I'm not sure how much time passes when there is a knock on the door. I look up to see Melissa and Dr. Simmons, one of the school's sports medicine physicians, walking into the room.

"How are you feeling, Coop?" Dr. Simmons asks, standing beside my bed on the opposite side of Ian.

I tilt my head from side to side. "Been better, but the medicine the nurse gave me is helping with the pain."

"I'm glad to hear that," he says with a soft smile, but an emotion behind his eyes makes it obvious he's about to drop some bad news.

"How fucked am I?"

He presses his lips together, and I brace myself for the cold, hard truth. "You tore your ACL," he states, and I gasp.

I was praying it wouldn't be that, but I knew the possibility was there, especially when the pop radiated throughout my leg. ACL injuries are no joke. The recovery process is long, and I'm guaranteed to be out for the rest of the season. So much for bringing home another championship win.

"Thankfully, it's only a grade two injury, meaning the ACL is still in one piece, but it was stretched and partially torn. Surgery is going to be your best road to recovery. If you want to go that route, there is an orthopedic surgeon who will be able to operate Monday morning."

"What happens if I don't have the surgery?" I inquire.

"You won't ever be able to play hockey again, and there is a higher chance of reinjuring yourself in the future," he explains. "I highly recommend you choose to get the operation. It's a minimally invasive procedure and will give you the best chance of getting back to doing the things you love. I know you don't want to join the NHL, but would you never want to play hockey again, even just for fun."

He's right, of course. I've seen Dr. Simmons several times over my four years at GSU. He knows me and my love of the sport. If I don't have the surgery, I'll never get back on the ice which would be pure hell.

"Let's do the surgery," I murmur after a brief pause in the conversation.

"Good call," Dr. Simmons says with a nod. "Since your only injury is your ACL tear, we are going to discharge you. That will give you a couple of days to rest at home. The nurse will be back with paperwork soon and instructions for how to prepare for your surgery Monday morning."

"Thanks, Doc," I reply, feeling somewhat defeated.

He claps me on the shoulder. "I'm sorry this happened to you, but I promise this isn't the end. Yes, the recovery is going to seem like it lasts forever, but eventually, you'll be back to your normal self. Don't be too hard on yourself in the process."

With those parting words, he leaves, and I throw my head back against the bed, staring at the ceiling. It's easy for everyone to tell me not to beat myself up, but they aren't the ones who just had their world flipped upside down.

Ian squeezes my hand as I lay there silently. I love that he's here right now, but things are going to be different between us thanks to this injury which scares the shit out of me.

Thankfully, it doesn't take too long for the nurse to bring my discharge paperwork, along with the instructions for what to expect Monday, and Ian takes me to his place, where his sister and Coach Appleton are waiting.

When we knew I wouldn't be staying much longer at the hospital, we sent Coach a text to give him the new information and told him not to bother coming to the hospital. Of course, he still wanted to see me, so we agreed for him to meet us at Ian's place for a short visit.

"I'm Katy," a pretty brunette with piercing blue eyes, the same color as her brother's, says to me as I shuffle slowly into the house. "Can I help you get comfortable?"

Ian told me she's a physical therapist, so I trust her to know a thing or two.

"That would be wonderful. Sorry that we didn't get to meet on a better day. I promise my life isn't normally this chaotic.

She giggles and shakes her head. "I know you didn't plan to tear your ACL, so I'll let it slide this time," she teases. "But just because you're injured doesn't mean I'm going to go easy on you. I still plan to bulldoze my way into your life and make sure we're best friends before I leave."

I laugh as she guides me to the couch and places my leg on a few pillows to ensure it's elevated.

"I'd love that," I tell her, then turn toward Coach Appleton, standing and looking awkward with his hands in his pocket and his brows pulled together in a worried way.

"How are you feeling?" he asks once I'm situated.

I really wish people would stop asking that question. I mean, I understand why they're asking, but it's getting on my nerves. So, instead of answering, I raise a brow and shoot him a look that says do I really have to reply?

He shakes his head, blowing out a breath. "Sorry, I guess that's a stupid question. Coach Mason gave us all the rundown on your injury once the game ended. I'm sorry this happened to you, Coop."

I shrug my shoulder. "Shit happens."

"How long did they say recovery would be?" he asks. "Coach Mason only told us you would be out for the rest of the season."

"About six months. The paperwork says I'll be pretty sore and stiff for the first one to two weeks after surgery, but it will gradually get better," I explain. "It's gonna require a lot of physical therapy, but I guess one of the hardest parts is not overdoing it. If I push myself too hard, there is the possibility of making the recovery take longer."

"Your doctor isn't wrong," Katy supplies. "I've seen so many patients push it way too hard. You can end up doubling your recovery time if you aren't careful. The key to a speedy recovery is taking your time."

"That's going to be a challenge for you," Coach replies with a smirk.

I sigh. I've never been the most patient person, and I doubt this is going to be any different.

"I'll make sure he follows the doctor's orders," Ian assures Coach, and I have no doubt he's going to make sure I do absolutely everything I'm supposed to do.

While I've enjoyed Ian taking control over a lot of things, I'm not sure how I am going to feel about him taking care of me while I'm injured.

Am I going to feel smothered? Is it going to be too much?

I have a strong suspicion Ian is going to want me to stay here after the surgery, but I'm going to want my space. Thankfully, my apartment has an elevator. I doubt I could fight Ian on staying at my place if there were only stairs.

"GSU has fantastic physical therapists, but if you ever have questions or want a second opinion, feel free to shoot a message my way," Katy offers, and I hand her my phone to put her information in.

"I'll probably do that when your brother is babying me," I tease.

"Oh, I doubt that my opinion will matter to him," she replies and sticks her tongue out at Ian when he grumbles. "He's always been the overprotective type. If he has something stuck in his head, even advice from a professional won't change his mind."

"I'm not that bad," Ian argues.

"Remember the time I sprained my ankle, and you wouldn't let me walk for almost two weeks even though the doctor said it would be fine?" she counters.

"The doctor wasn't around to witness how you winced every time you put weight on it," he grumbles.

"Which is normal and would have gone away the more I used it. Are you aware it's possible to actually hurt someone by resting too much?"

In response, he huffs out a breath through his nose, and Katy rolls her eyes. "Good luck with his stubborn ass," she whispers, and I chuckle. "Now, who's ready for some embarrassing stories about Ian?"

I laugh while Ian groans, and I already know that Katy is going to be someone I love having in my life.

We spend a good amount of time visiting, getting to know each other, and catching up, but eventually, it becomes hard to keep my eyes open. "I really hate to cut this visit short, but I'm exhausted. I think it's time for me to go to bed."

I'm pretty sure it's a mixture of the medication and the adrenaline wearing off that's causing me to be utterly exhausted. Besides, the doctor said I needed to rest, and that's what I'm going to do.

After Coach leaves, Ian helps me to his room and sits on the side of the bed once I'm comfortable. I didn't want to change since I was already in a pair of soft sweats and a light T-shirt. Dressing was a pain in the ass with a fucked-up knee.

"I'm going to send an email in requesting time off next week," Ian states, and I shoot him a what the fuck stare.

"Why the hell would you do that?" I ask.

He seems taken aback by my outburst, and his brows pinch together, clearly confused. "Because you're going to need someone to take care of you."

His Daddy instincts are in overdrive right now, but the last thing I want is for Ian to put his career at risk for me. "I'm going to be fine, and if I need help, I have roommates," I remind him. "Taking a week off work for no reason would be irresponsible, and I won't let you do it."

"You can't tell me what I can and can't do," he counters in a firm and demanding voice that lights an inferno deep inside me.

"But you can control my life?" I hiss out. "I know I've been letting you take the reins in many aspects, but you promised that we would talk through big things. You telling me what's going to happen isn't communication."

Ian's face falls, and he shakes his head, but I'm too pissed to care that he's upset. I grab my phone off the nightstand and call Rio, avoiding Ian's gaze while I do it.

"Hey, man, how are you doing?" Rio answers. "I wanted to check on you but figured you needed the rest."

"I appreciate that," I tell him. "I was actually hoping you could come pick me up from Ian's place."

Ian grabs my wrist, and I shoot him my meanest glare, which causes his brows to shoot up in surprise, and he lets go.

"Oh? I figured you'd want him to take care of you," Rio says, sounding shocked.

"I just want my own bed. Are you coming or not?"

"I'll come. Give me like ten minutes," he replies.

I thank him, then set the phone down and sit up, carefully moving to the edge of the bed.

"I'm sorry," Ian whispers. "But you don't have to go."

I shake my head. "It's best if we have a night apart. I'm tired and pissed off. I don't want to say anything stupid." My crutches are by the door, and I sigh because, of course, I need help when I just said I could do this on my own. "Can you grab my crutches?" I request quietly, though my jaw clenches, and thankfully, Ian doesn't argue.

"I'll get your bag," he states once I have my crutches, and I nod.

I'm not sure leaving really is the right move, but I wasn't lying when I said I was angry. I understand it's engraved deeply in him to want to take care of me, but I'm not a child, and he's not my actual father. He's my partner, and even though we have an unconventional agreement, it doesn't mean he gets to step in and take complete control of every aspect of my life. In fact, early on, he promised he wouldn't do that, and we would discuss anything major, like adults. I don't think I would be this upset if he had asked me what I thought about him taking some time off. The way he presented it as if it was already set in stone, hit a sore spot for me. One I wasn't even aware I had.

Slowly, I hobble to the front door, and Katy's brows shoot up when I walk past the living room where she's watching a show. "Where are you going?" she asks with a tilt of her head.

"Home. I want my own bed tonight," I lie.

She studies me for a moment but thankfully doesn't push the conversation.

"Can I stop by tomorrow before I head home?" she asks.

"That sounds nice," I reply with a small, tired smile.

Even though I just met Katy tonight, I already like her a lot. She's kind and caring, like her brother, but she's sweeter and softer than him. She's exactly who I would have wanted as a sister.

"I'll text you when I wake up," I assure her, and then make the rest of the journey to the front door.

Ian joins me with my bag, and I hate the awkward energy between us. I want to say something, but I have no idea what. Spending the night at my apartment will allow me some time to get my thoughts straight. Even though Ian doesn't want me to leave, it's best for us in the end.

Thankfully, it doesn't take Rio long to arrive, and Ian takes my bag out to the car as I carefully make my way there. "Would you mind calling me when you wake up?" Ian requests when I finally arrive at the passenger door. He seems unsure of himself, which is something I've never seen from him.

"I can do that," I assure him.

"I love you," he whispers and kisses me softly.

"I love you too," I reply, then fumble my way into the car.

I keep my eyes on Ian through the side mirror as we pull away. He doesn't move from his spot on the sidewalk until we're out of sight.

"So, what the fuck happened?" Rio asks once we've driven a couple of blocks.

"Ian pissed me off, and I needed a minute to breathe. I love him, but if he's going to smother me and put his career at risk, things aren't going to work out," I explain.

"Yeah, it's always better to take a small break instead of saying stupid things in the heat of the moment. But don't let things fester, either. You do eventually have to talk to him about how you're feeling."

I rub my forehead. "I know, but I need to sleep first. Hopefully, after a good night's sleep, I'll figure out why it triggered me the way it did because right now, I'm not even sure of the real reason."

"If you want to talk things out, I'm here for you," Rio offers.

"I appreciate it. Maybe I'll take you up on that in the morning."

When we arrive at our apartment, Rio brings my bag to my room and then leaves me to finally be alone for the first time in a long time.

The room is too fucking quiet as I lay still, trying to fall asleep. I miss Ian's breath in my ear and the weight of his body wrapped tightly around me. I haven't spent every night at Ian's, but I've spent enough to know I sleep better in his arms.

It was the right call to spend a night apart, but it doesn't mean I don't hate it. I just pray we're able to come up with a compromise tomorrow because if we can't, I'm going to have to spend a lot more nights on my own, and it's going to suck.