Page 16 of Shoot Your Shot

She’s so close. I want to tell her to come here and climb into bed with me so I can wrap my arms around her tightly. That won’t fix anything, even though I wish it would.

“What’s wrong, Buttercup?” I rasp. “What are you crying about?”

She shakes her head, turning away from me. “You could have … you could have never woken up. I’m just glad you’re all right, Kolt.” Her voice is weak, and her shoulders sag.

There’s a space between us that was never there before she walked out on me. A space of distrust. And pain. A space that takes up this whole fucking room, suffocating me.

I can’t see it. I can only feel it.

It’s theonlything I can feel right now.

Sighing, I turn away from her again because I can’t fucking stand to see her cry.

“Yeah. Me too.”

“The muscle around the heart is weakened, but we expected that, as it goes with the territory of a myocardial infarction. But the good news is, the heart can—and will—grow strong again.” The doctor speaks to me like I’m a child he doesn’t want to freak out. “But everything else looked okay on the tests. We’re waiting for a few more results to come back, and then we’ll have a game plan. Though I’d still like to keep him another day or two for observation.”

The doctor and I are in the hallway, away from Kolt, who dozed back off, thankfully.

“You sound … nervous or hesitant,” I say, raising my eyebrows. “Is there something I need to know?”

Inhaling a breath, he leans his shoulder on the wall. “You’re a physical therapist, you said, right?”

When I nod, his head bobs as he continues to speak. “You know as well as I do that his heart was temporarily damaged from the heart attack. Despite what Kolt might believe, one cannot simply go into cardiac arrest and then go back to playing hockey the next day. Or in a week.” He shrugs. “Hell, even a month. I don’t have a timeline for this type of injury, unfortunately. But I do know, for the next few weeks, he shouldn’t live alone. He’s weaker than he’s used to. And he’s not completely out of the woods.” His lip turns up. “He also seems like the type of guy who would push himself further than he should.”

“That’s an understatement.” I breathe out a weak laugh. “So, what are you saying, Doc? What do you need from me?”

“I need you to make sure he doesn’t overdo it. At least until his mother or someone else can take over the duty of looking out for him. Then, I’d like to see him back here in a few weeks to repeat all the same tests, and hopefully, we’ll see that everything has improved.”

I let the words sink in. Part of me wants to be the one to stick around and make sure he gets better and rests like he’s supposed to. The other part wants to run away and have someone else care for him because I know living in a house with my husband again is going to be torture on my heart.

“I’ll make sure he comes back,” I say, swallowing. “And if I’m not around, I promise, his mom will make sure he behaves and does what he’s supposed to.”

He looks at me over his glasses, eyeing me suspiciously. “All right. Well, I’ll be making my rounds. For now, let’s let him rest.”

“Sounds good. Thanks,” I say, turning to head back to Kolt’s room.

When I walk into his room, he’s sleeping, surprisingly peacefully, considering how grouchy he’s been—which is fair. He’s been through a lot.

My body aches to curl up beside him. I feel a pull toward the bed, but I fight the urge because his recovery has no room for my selfishness.

Lowering myself into the chair, I pull my phone out and message his mom, his brother, and Logan. Because out of everyone on the team, Kolt is the closest with Logan, and I know he’ll fill the entire team in on how he’s doing.

Logan: I’m stopping by later. Don’t tell him. He’ll be a little bitch and lock the door or some shit.

I chew my lip, glancing up at Kolt again. He’s the type of man who doesn’t ever want anyone to see him at his weakest. He’s always strong for everyone else, never letting himself fall apart. He won’t want his team here. But … the Sharks are family. And if they want to visit him, I’m not going to stop them.

Besides, it might be good for Kolt to see how loved he is. And that however long this recovery process takes, they won’t be upset with him.

Me: I won’t tell him. But if he asks, I knew nothing. He hates me enough already.

Logan: We both know that isn’t true. See you soon.

Curling my feet under me, I close my eyes and drift off to sleep. Imagining that I’m in Kolt’s arms and not this uncomfortable-as-hell chair.

Four days from the day I landed in this shithole, I’m finally getting wheeled out. The hallway is lined with staff cheering me on, many holding up New England Bay Sharks signs, making me feel like a complete fucking weirdo. All of the attention I’ve gotten has been a lot, and between my teammates stopping in and seeing me and the staff fangirling over me, I’m happy as hell that my mother hasn’t made it to Maine yet. She isn’t feeling one hundred percent, and lucky for me, my wife likes me enough that she apparently doesn’t want me getting sick because she told my mom it was best if she waited a bit longer.

I love my mom. The woman has been through a lot in her life. I mean, fuck, she was married to my dad, who was the most abusive son of a bitch you can imagine. But she tries to bring him up in conversation like he wasn’t a monster. And she also talks like she was Mother of the Year when that just wasn’t how it was. She did the best she could, but she never protected us or herself from my old man.

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