Page 89 of Check the Halls
I pat the bed again, more insistently, and this time he flops down beside me.
“I just got off the phone with Coach Stetson.”
“Is everything okay? Wait.” I wince as I sit up and turn to face him. “Aren’t you supposed to have practice today?”
Ben gently takes my hand, careful to avoid the bruise caused from the IV I was hooked up to yesterday. “I was, but I got permission to skip it.”
He skipped practice? “Is that even allowed?”
“They’re calling it a Therapy Day. Players take them sometimes when they need rest or to go to physio.”
“Oh. That was nice of them.”
His face hardens. “But my request to not travel with the team to Tampa tomorrow got denied. If I don’t go, I’ll be suspended.”
“What? Suspended?”
“It’s not the end of the world,” he continues, unconvincingly. “I’ll just be benched for a game and won’t get paid.”
I gasp loudly. “How much money will you lose?”
He shrugs. “It doesn’t matter.”
“Ben…”
“I don’t know…around a hundred and twenty thousand.”
My mind reels from his answer and I think I’m going to need stronger meds. “Dollars?!?”
“I don’t care about the money, Madness.”
“You don’t care about losing more money than I make in a year?”
“Not if it means I have to leave you, no.”
His voice is steady, resolute.He doesn’t want to leave me.
The lump in my throat is immediate. I reach for his hand, threading my fingers through his and giving him a gentle, reassuring squeeze.
“Ben,” I say softly, “I’m okay. Really. You’ve taken such good care of me, and I’m so grateful, but you have to go tomorrow. This is your career. It’s important.”
He doesn’t flinch, doesn’t look away. “Nothing is more important than you.”
And I believe him.
He’s willing to disappoint his coaches, let down an entire locker room of teammates, and probably spark outrage from fans. Just to be here, with me, while I recover. The weight of that kind of devotion is too much for me to process.
“I want you to go,” I whisper, even as part of me wants to beg him to stay. “I swear, I’ll be fine. I’m already feeling so much better. I don’t need a babysitter. I promise.”
He studies me for a long moment, like he’s trying to see if I really mean it.
I do. Even if my heart aches at the thought of him walking out that door.
“I thought you might say that.” He lets out a long exhale. “That’s why back up plans are so important.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
A knock sounds at the door.
