Page 77 of My Pucking Perfect Goalie

I’m walking quickly down the hallway at the hospital, the sound of my heels against the linoleum loud in my ears. It’s impossible, but it’s almost like I can feel the weight of my child, carrying them with me.

Sam Braun and I are done, that much is clear.

Before a nurse can stop me and ask if I’m alright, I pull my phone out of my purse with shaking fingers and bring it to my ear.

“Penny,” I say, the moment she picks up, forcing my voice to come through professional and calm. Clear. “Go ahead and book us two one-way flights back to Los Angeles, please.”

There’s a long moment of silence, and I step onto the elevator, closing my eyes and taking a deep breath in the interlude.

“Finn?” Penny finally says, and I can picture the confusion on her face. “You want me to book flights home?”

“That’s right,” I say, grinning as I push out into the fresh, cold air. The sun is shining, reflecting off a blinding blanket of snow. Quickly, I snap my sunglasses on and keep moving.

I just have to keep moving.

“Sorry, I guess I’m just confused.”

“Our work here is done,” I say, still forcing that falsely cheerful tone into my voice. “I’m eager to get back to the West Coast and focus on our other clients. Besides, this weather is horrific.”

It’s not—it’s actually somewhat peaceful. The cold feels bracing, invigorating. It’s like the white blanketing everything muffles the sound of the world. But I don’t want to sit in the quiet, because all that will do is give me time to think.

So I say, “Anyway, go ahead and book the flights.”

“But we haven’t even done the final report—”

“I’ll work on that in the next couple of days and send it over to Grey. See if you can get us flights out for Friday.”

“Before the first game of the Stanley Cup?” Penny is sounding increasingly worried. “What about…Sam?”

“We’ve done everything we can for Sam,” I say, relief coursing through me when I finally get to my car. “His team is going to the championship. His stats are miles better than they were. I’m not sure there’s much more we can do.”

“Finn,” Penny says, sounding exasperated, “but what aboutyouand Sam?”

I pause, jaw ticking, trying to contain the alternating nausea, panic, and rage that flashes through me like a strobe light. “There is no me and Sam, Pen, okay? And I would just like to go home now.”

There’s a long pause, and then, “Okay.”

***

I’m on my laptop, inputting my recent purchases into my spreadsheet. Crib, stroller, changing station, monitors—I cross-reference my prep list and add the order number to the spreadsheet.

It’s premature, I know that. I know Dr. Chen wouldn’t advise me to go out and make all the baby purchases just yet, but I needsomething to keep my mind off Sam. If I’m not busy, my brain returns to that moment in the hospital.

The look on his face, that tone.“Get out.”

A shiver rolls down my spine when I hear it again, and I swallow, avoiding the thought.

His father in that bed, eyes shut, body still. The way Sam’s entire body had stiffened when I looked at him. The grief I felt when I realized Sam was stuck in that place between life and death, hanging onto a father who was no longer present.

I’m not a doctor, but I’ve spent enough time researching the human body, studying anatomy and physiology, that I can recognize a man who’s been in a coma for years. From the look on Sam’s face—and the fact that all this time, he’s been talking about his dad like he’s already dead—I’m willing to bet his doctor isn’t very optimistic about his chances of coming out of the coma.

My mind keeps trying to pull me back into that moment. I keep thinking that if I turn it over in my mind enough, I might be able to figure out why Sam reacted the way he did. How it went off the rails so quickly.

But I also don’t want to think about it. In some ways, it feels easier to just have it over and done with. And according to everything I’ve read, it’s better for the baby to be as low-stress as possible. That’s why I need to just get back to California and relax.

Everything I’m doing from now on is for this baby.

Our flight leaves in the morning, and I stand up from my bed, stretching and popping my back. I’ll need a shower, then to dry my hair and do an ultra-moisturizing routine before the flight. Even first class has dry airplane air.

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