Page 13 of Shoot Your Shot

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 Ineededto 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 theonlyone 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. Insome 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 iteverywhere.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 goingto 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.

Itry to force my eyes open, but it’s useless. At first anyway. I feel like I took a bunch of sleeping pills, rendering me useless. It takes me for-fucking-ever, and I hear the faint sound of a beeping machine, but eventually, I pry my eyes open. When I finally keep myself awake, I’m damn near sure I’m still sleeping. Or dead.

Yeah, I’m surely dead. Because why else would I see Paige beside my bed, asleep in the chair, with her legs pulled against her? Her blonde hair is shorter than it was the last time I saw her, but it looks good on her, and her porcelain skin looks so soft that I want to brush my fingers across it, just to remember how it feels to touch my wife.

There’s only one answer. I’m dead, and this must be my version of heaven. Though I have to be honest, I didn’t think I’d actually make it here, but, hey, I’m not going to complain because burning in hell really never sounded that appealing.

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