Page 19 of Penalty to the Heart

He nods, still looking despondent.

“Well, then. It seems to me that if luck really is a key factor in one’s life, then you have a healthy amount of it.”

His forehead crinkles as if uncomfortable with the glass-half-full picture I’ve painted of his circumstances.

“It could have been worse,” I add.

“How do you figure?”

“Well, your accident occurred during fall practice. Can you imagine if it had happened during an actual game? Your injury might have been more profound.”

He shrugs noncommittally again, placing a card on the table and picking up a new one.

“Not to mention that the team might have lost the game after such a blow.”

“Yeah, I guess you’re right on that account. The Guardians have seen enough bad luck without mine getting added to the mix.” His frown deepens. “I just wish I was better so I could be there for everyone. They need good, talented centers now more than ever.”

“They’ll make do. Your only concern should be focused on getting better. If you really want to help the team, you have to look after yourself first and foremost.”

“Is this where you give me the metaphor of the airplane’s oxygen masks? About how I should put my own mask on first before attending to anyone else?” He lets out a meek chuckle.

“It’s a good metaphor for a reason.” I grin. “You won’t be able to truly help anyone else if you don’t help yourself first.”

“Yeah, you’ve given me this spiel before.” He smiles in earnest this time. “I get it, Roxanne.”

“Do you?” I arch a questioning brow.

He nods, his shy smile stretching wider.

“Good. I’m glad,” I reply proudly. “Then the only thing left for me to say is… gin,” I exclaim before spreading all my cards on the table.

“Damn it. I didn’t even see it coming.” He cackles. “You act all nice and sweet, but under that kind facade lies a ruthless killer, huh, Doc?”

“Just another metaphor for life. Never judge a book by its cover.” I wink. “Do you want to play another hand?”

He looks over at the clock hanging on the wall of his hospital bedroom and nods.

“Yeah, I could do with another game.”

But just as he says it, our attention is pulled to a few giggling nurses as they pass through his room’s open door. I turn around and see them whispering amongst themselves, staring at something or someone at the end of the long hallway.

“What’s that about?” I ask, curious.

“Must be Caleb Donovan wandering the halls again. All the nurses go gaga for Donovan,” Lenny explains with a touch of disgust.

“Oh.” I frown, recalling the various news articles of the terrible car accident last February in which the Donovan brothers were involved. “I heard about what happened to his brother. Just heartbreaking.”

“Yeah. If you want to talk about blows, that was a major one. Not sure how the team will recover after losing Jack.”

“I’m sure the club will muster through,” I retort, optimistically.

“I don’t see them having much of a choice. But if you ask me, the wrong Donovan got the worst of it. No one will ever be able to fill Jack’s shoes.”

“Were you two close?” I ask since, aside from his injury, Lenny hasn’t shown this much disdain and outrage for anything else.

“Everyone was close to Jack. He just had this vibe to him, you know? A true bona fide leader. You wanted to make him proud. You trusted him on and off the ice. His kid brother, Caleb… not so much.”

“Oh?”

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