Page 74 of Weak Side

“She hasn’t told you.” Chad threw his head back and laughed. “She’s still mine, Wolf. But it’s pretty typical of Claire not to tell you. She has a hard time relying on anyone but herself. Why do you think she was nearly killing herself onstage? She and her mother need the money so she doesn’t have to rely on me.”

What?

“Chad!” Taytum’s hands landed on his chest, and she pushed him back. He went willingly, winking at me as he backed away to the doors.

“Enjoy her while you have her.”

What the fuck does that mean?

My heart was pounding, and my blood was rushing like Niagara Falls, but everything faded when the door to the ER opened, and a doctor popped his head out, looking for the family of Claire Bryant. I spun around and walked ahead of Taytum as she was pushing Chad out the doors with the security guard creeping toward them.

“I’m her brother,” I lied. “How is she?”

The doctor’s brows furrowed, and he looked over at the receptionist behind the glass window who had told me I couldn't go back with Claire just hours prior. She looked at me, then to Chad and to Taytum, obviously aware of the whole conversation. To my surprise, she nodded at the doctor, and he shrugged, ushering me to follow him.

I mouthed a thank-you to the receptionist, and the old lady winked at me. I followed the white coat and listened intently as he told me that Claire’s CT came back okay but that it was confirmed that she had a concussion, and he wanted to keep her a little longer to make sure the dizziness subsided and she didn’t get worse.

I nodded before he pointed to her room. “She’s a little woozy but is awake. You can go on in.”

I sidestepped him, pulled the curtain aside, and watched as she breathed in and out of her mouth with her eyes closed.

“Hey, you,” I said, stepping farther into the room. Claire sat up quickly and immediately winced before lying back onto the pillow. “Whoa, take it easy, Bryant.”

“Theo.” Her brows furrowed, and I noticed that she had taken her hair out of her bun at some point. I watched from across the room as her shoulders dropped in disappointment. “I can’t believe I fell.”

“We all fall sometimes,” I said, absolutely aware that there was a double meaning behind my words.

“I’ve never seen you fall,” she countered, blowing a breath out of her mouth again.

“On the ice? All the time.” I chuckled, trying to lighten the mood a little. I sat down on the edge of her bed, careful not to put too much pressure on it. I lifted my hair up and showed her the tiny scar on the very top of my forehead. “Four stitches. And you’ve been to my games. You know I fall.”

The softest laugh left her, but she quickly stopped and dropped her jaw. “Oh my God. What are you doing here?”

I pulled back. “What do you mean? Why wouldn’t I be here?”

“You have a game, Theo! What time is it?”

“Hey.” I stood up, hovered over her, and pushed her back onto her pillow. “Rest.”

“Theo, what are you doing here?!” She lay back, but panic still backed every one of her words.

Without even meaning to, I crowded her space and stared down into her eyes. “I’m here to make sure you’re okay. Game or no game, I wasn’t leaving until I knew.”

The color was back on her face, and the satisfaction it gave me was indescribable.Now I could play with a steady head.“Well, I’m fine! Go to your game right now, Theo Brooks! Whatever happened to ‘hockey is the most important thing in your life’?”

She seemed exasperated, and it was kind of cute how stressed out she was, but before I caused any more unnecessary stress for her, I leaned down and kissed her forehead before whispering, “It’s important, but I’m beginning to realize it may not be the most important thing anymore.”

Because after all, what was a future without her in it?

36

Theo

Coach’s disapprovinginsults left my head the second I stepped foot in the rink, three minutes before the whistle blew. I didn’t have time to warm up with the team, and though I was captain and would have been frustrated if any of the other guys had pulled this stunt, my teammates understood, and each of them patted me on the back after asking how Claire was.

The game was close, but the moment the last puck slid into the net, courtesy of Landon, I threw my stick down and ripped my helmet off. The buzzer rang, and we skated over to him, patting him on the back as the arena roared. Don’t think I didn’t notice that Claire’s voice wasn’t screaming my name, though. I missed seeing her in the stands with my jersey, and I thought about her within every empty space my brain could hold between plays.

I hurriedly undressed and threw on my sweats all while getting bitched at by Coach once more. He didn’t buy my excuses about why I was late and kept poking me to tell him the truth, threatening back-to-back suicides, all of which I agreed to do.

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