Page 71 of Taking It To Overtime
“I know I goof off a lot. I know I don’t take much seriously.” He props his hands on his hips and his throat bobs as he swallows hard. “But you, Vic, Tristan, now Vera. You guys are my family. I would do anything for you.”
He holds my eye contact.
“Go take care of your girl. For both of us. I have this under control. I promise.”
“Okay.” I nod once, then again a little faster. “Okay. You’re in charge, Jack. Thanks.” I clap him on the shoulder as I step around him, and I don’t look back as I make my way out of the arena, not even as he takes the ice and I hear the whistle blow.
He’s got this.
I’ve got her.
I make the drive to the hospital on autopilot, turning left on main and then past the Boyle farm. I pull into the parking lot and am halfway to the main entrance when I realize the car is still running. I talk a minute to collect myself, counting out my breaths, focusing on the rise and fall of my chest. I am no help to Vera if I’m in a state of panic.
The woman sitting behind the welcome desk directs me to a room on the third floor and I move as fast as I can toward the elevator without breaking into a run.
The door to the room is open, and I see Vera slumped in one of the plastic-coated chairs before I see her mom asleep in the bed. As if she senses my presence, Vera’s head lifts and her eyes meet mine. Hers are red-rimmed and swollen, her hair tangled around her face. She’s the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen, even now, and my heart twists deep in my chest.
“Hey,” I say, and open my arms, “I’m here.”
She’s burrowed against my chest before the words fade from the room, and I wrap both my arms around her in a tight hug.
“I’ve got you,” I say into the top of her head, my lips pressing kisses to her scalp. “What do you need?”
I feel her shoulders tremble before I feel the tears wetting my sweatshirt and I pull her even further into me. I want to stand between her and every fear, every bad thought.
“Talk to me Vera.”
She cranes her neck, looking at her mom tucked into the hospital issued sheets. It’s been a while since I’ve seen Cecelia Novak. She didn’t look this tiny at dinner, but now I can’t help but think she seems frail, utterly breakable in the hospital bed.
“I—” a sob breaks out of Vera’s mouth and I tug her toward the door and out into the hallway. I press her mouth to my shoulder, cradling the back of her head. Keeping her sobs muffled for her own privacy.
Take whatever you need, baby. I run my nose along her temple.I can hold everything together for the both of us.I rock her back and forth, whispering soft words of comfort. They’re nonsensical, but the low sound seems to help.
“She slipped on the rug.” Vera says, minutes or hours later, “We were arguing and she slipped on the rug and slammed her head against the counter.”
There’s no space between us, nowhere for her to go. I pull her tighter anyway.
“It’s not your fault.” I say, even as she shakes her head. “It was an accident, Vera. It’s not like you pushed her.”
“Not physically,” she hiccups, “But I should’ve just let it go. She was upset and confused, and I was more worried about being right than helping her.”
Her whole body tenses and she rears her head back, almost slamming her skull into my chin. I rub my hand between her shoulder blades, but it doesn’t seem to help.
“Nobody’s doinganything.”Her voice cracks. “I told them. I told them there was something wrong before she fell. Like a stroke or something, she was acting weird and—”
“Hold up.” I frown. “What do you mean?”
“She was stuck, Robbie. I was back in high school and she was warning me about…” She trails off, eyes darting away from mine, and I know what they were arguing about. Me. Me leaving her.
“They’re acting like only the fall is a concern, but I was there. I heard what she was saying. It wasn’t normal.Shewasn’t normal. And no one seems to give a flying fuck.” She pulls in a shaky breath and ends on a sob. “They looked at her eyes, asked me if she lost consciousness, and then stashed us in here. I’m aware that all of my knowledge of emergency medicine comes from House and Grey’s Anatomy, but shouldn’t they do more? What if it’s a tumor? Why aren’t they doing imaging?”
Looking into her panicked green eyes, I realize something that sinks into my stomach like a lead weight.
“Where’s your dad, baby?” I cup her cheek and give a cursory glance around the room. “Does he need to know what’s going on?”
She shakes her head, rolling those pretty eyes toward the tiled ceiling. “Not you too. He’s on his way. He had to go to the next town over to mail something, but it doesn’t matter. I’m here. My mom can give her permission for the tests. They can’t justwaitfor him to come back.”
They can if he has…
