Page 85 of Ice Ice Maybe
The question hung in the air, and I felt my stomach drop. Just when I thought we were in the clear, it seemed we had some more explaining to do.
I opened my mouth to fabricate an explanation, but the words died on my lips as I caught sight of an unexpected figure entering the waiting room.
This can’t be happening.
Mitch, of all people, was approaching us, Belle at his side and a teddy bear dangling from his fingers. I was about to unleashmy fury on him for breaking our deal, but he held up his palm, silencing me before I could start.
“Hold on—I come in peace,” Mitch said, his voice uncharacteristically subdued.
“You shouldn’t be coming at all!” I hissed, barely containing my frustration. “You’re supposed to be on your way to Tampa with the team!”
“Hear me out,” Mitch said. “I have a good reason for being here.”
My eyebrows shot up. This ought to be good.
“Coach Quinn gave me permission to take a separate flight,” he explained. “I’m still playing in the game, so you can relax on that front. But I felt guilty about what happened to Mr. Dalton and had to come to see how he was doing.”
Mitch? Feeling guilty?
That was a first.
“Why would you feel guilty?” I asked, genuinely perplexed.
He shrugged, looking uncomfortable. “I’m sure I had something to do with his heart attack after I told him I was quitting.”
Mom’s face softened, and she patted Mitch’s arm. “Don’t beat yourself up about that. We all saw this coming a long time ago, and I can guarantee you this had nothing to do with you. If anything, Everett’s been working himself up to a good heart attack for years. Too much rich food and cigars, too much sitting, and enough stress for a thousand lifetimes. You just happened to be there for the grand finale.”
Mitch’s shoulders visibly relaxed at her words.
Mom continued, “Your being here and showing you care means so much. Everett will be touched when he hears about it. Yes, this terrified us, but the good news is, he’s doing well. The doctor just told us.”
“I’m glad to hear that,” Mitch said, then awkwardly thrust the teddy bear in my direction. “Please give this to your dad.”
I accepted it, finding it odd that he’d bought a stuffed animal for a man in his sixties. Still, the gesture itself spoke volumes.
“Thank you for coming, Mitch,” I said sincerely.
Belle smiled. “We’re glad Mr. Dalton is going to be okay.”
“Thanks so much,” Mom said.
I watched them go, and my mind reeled from the day’s events. Just when I thought I had Mitch figured out, he went and did something like this. Maybe there was still hope for him yet.
As we waited to see Dad, the anticipation thick in the air, a nurse entered the waiting room, clipboard in hand, reading off her chart.
“Elena Dalton?” she called out.
We all stood, and Mom raised her hand.
“That’s me,” she said.
The nurse smiled kindly. “You can see Everett now. He’s on the fifth floor, room five-one-one-five. The elevator is down the hall on the left.”
“Thank you,” I said.
Nolan’s face lit up. “Five-one-one-five? It’s good luck.”
I turned to him, eyebrow raised. “Why?”
