Page 57 of Changes on Ice
He could hardly say no. “It’s a public hospital.”
“Thanks,” she said, as if that was a welcome. She was silent, though, as they waited for the elevator, rode to the ground floor, and passed through the busy lobby out the front doors. Rusty almost thought he was escaping the interrogation until she said, “RJ’s always been a really private guy. I didn’t even know he was… not straight?”
He shrugged his shoulder. That was as good a description as any, and he wasn’t about to try to explain Cross’s sexuality to his sister, especially when Rusty wasn’t sure where things stood himself.
“He asked me about dating someone young. I told him I’d done it once myself.”
The thought that Cross had used the word “dating” to his sister made Rusty want to smile, but maybe that was just her interpretation. “How did that go for you?”
“Well, we didn’t work out. Obviously, since I’m single. But I told RJ everyone was different.”
“Uh huh.” Rusty lengthened his stride, not feeling too bad about making Marie hustle a bit. “That’s true.”
“I’m just glad he has somebody besides me who cares about him a lot.”
“What about your parents?”
Marie made a little sound. “Well, they love us both. Dad’s busy and Mom’s kind of off in her own world, but they’d do anything for RJ.”
“Except come to his games?”
“Did he say that?”
Rusty shrugged.
“They’ve come to a few. Neither one is a hockey fan.”
“Neither were my folks until I started playing.”
“And do they come to your games?”
Rusty gritted his teeth, but his history was all out there on the internet, if Marie cared to look. Or she could’ve paid someone else to look for her. “Not since they found out I was the queer spawn of Satan.”
“Oh. I’m so sorry.” Either she hadn’t known or she was good at faking it.
“Yeah, well, they also don’t have a million bucks and a private plane to travel, if they wanted to.”
“RJ hasn’t exactly invited us to get involved in his life. I probably wouldn’t have met you if he hadn’t been injured.”
“Hello? He gave us seats side by side at the game.”
Marie stopped short, as if she’d forgotten that bit of truth, then trotted to rejoin him. “You’re right. That was a surprise. Maybe you’re good for him.”
Rusty reached his truck and turned to face her, his back to the shiny black metal. “I’m not sure what you’re trying to say.”
Marie laughed. “I’m not sure either. Just, he’s different with you. In a positive way. So you may be young, and he may be rich and stubborn, but don’t give up on him, okay?”
“Wasn’t planning to.” Rusty opened his door and Marie stepped back. He got in, started the truck, and backed out carefully. When he glanced in the rearview before heading to the exit, she still stood there, watching him go. He noticed a fit, middle-aged man with a posture that looked vaguely militarystanding twenty feet from Marie, and as she turned away, she gathered the man to her with a gesture.
Bodyguard.
He’d dismissed Marie’s words, but there was rich and there wasrich. He couldn’t help worrying thatI’m not planning towas easier said than done.
Chapter 16
Cross glared at the big TV on the wall of his rehab room eight days later. On the screen, the announcer was talking about how “All-Star defenseman LaCroix” being out for the season would put a dent in the Rafters’ playoff hopes. He tried to tune out the words the same way he was tuning out the persistent daggers of pain in his right ankle and the throbbing ache of his left shin.Move on to the game, already, dude.The Rafters’ last regular season contest was coming up, and he couldn’t be there, and the disconnection from everything he loved was eating away at his gut.
If he’d still been in Portland, he might’ve gone to the arena, even with the wheelchair and the pain— which was worse because he was rationing his Percocet, aware of how easy it was to get hooked.
