Page 38 of Goalies Don't Date Ice Princesses

The hallway was a stark contrast to the intimate atmosphere of the room - bustling with doctors, nurses, and anxious families awaiting news of their loved ones. As we made our way down the corridor, I couldn’t help but feel overwhelmed by the sterile surroundings. The monotonous beige walls seemed to close in on me, devoid of any warmth or color. I’d never been in a hospital before and I was certain I never wanted to again.

I glanced at Mr. Jamison beside me. His tall frame navigated the bustling hallway with ease, his steps purposeful and confident, as always. I thought of Adelynn again, of the way she seemed so uncomfortable to be standing in a hospital, of the grief that crossed her face everywhere she looked. Did he feel the same way? Did every step he took in here remind him of his best friend? I couldn’t ask, I knew I couldn’t, but I couldn’t stop myself from wondering, either.

We continued walking until we reached a set of double doors at the end of the hallway. Mr. Jamison pushed them open, revealing a vast and bustling cafeteria. A coffee machine was sitting on a table along a side wall, with some cheap takeout cups alongside it. I immediately grabbed one and filled it with coffee, making sure to leave enough room for more milk and sugar. I was sure hospital coffee was incredibly bitter. Mr. Jamison did the same, then we found a table in the corner of the room to sit at, sufficiently far away from anyone else.

“How are you doing?” Mr. Jamison asked. I shrugged without looking up. How was I supposed to describe what was going through my mind right now? The level of worry I felt for a boy that everyone thought I was barely even friends with?

The table was worn and chipped, the varnish faded and peeling in some spots. I traced my finger along the grooves, lost in thought about Archer’s injury and what it meant for all of us. The weight of his pain settled heavy on my chest, like a burden too great to bear. I stared at my coffee, the dark liquid swirling hypnotically in the cup, as though it held the answers to the questions that plagued my mind.

As I took a sip, the warmth spread through me, providing a small measure of comfort. The bitterness of hospital coffee clung to my tongue, a bitter reminder of the reality we faced.

“I want you to know, Bri,” Mr. Jamison began, his voice tinged with concern, “that Archer is going to need a lot of support during his recovery. Physically, of course, but it’s the emotional toll that worries me the most.”

I nodded, understanding the weight of his words. The road to recovery would be long and arduous, requiring unwavering support from those who cared about him. I looked up at Mr. Jamison, whose usually vibrant eyes clouded with worry. The fluorescent lights above cast a pale glow on his features, highlighting the small wrinkles at the corners of his eyes and the stubble on his face.

“I’ll do everything I can,” I murmured. “But what if I don’t know how to help him? I’ve never… I mean, I don’t know how…”

Mr. Jamison reached across the table, placing his warm hand over mine. His touch was reassuring, grounding me in the present moment.

“You don’t have to have all the answers,” he said gently. “Sometimes, just showing up is enough. Being there for him, reminding him that he’s not alone in this. That the world as he knew it hasn’t entirely come to an end. And remember,” he said, his voice laced with empathy, “you’re not alone in this either.” His eyes met mine, and in that moment, I felt understood. I realized that even if the circumstances were different, Mr. Jamison had been through something like this before. He’d been friends with the triplets’ dad. He knew how it felt to get a call one day, telling you one of the most important people in your life had an accident. He knew the feeling of running to the hospital and having to hold your best friend as they cried.

For me, it was Archer and Adelynn.

But for him, it had been his two best friends. And one of them hadn’t walked back out those hospital doors.

I took a deep breath and nodded. I could do this. We could do this. Everything was going to be okay.

“We’re dating, you know,” I blurted out suddenly. I wasn’t sure why I said the words. For some reason, it just felt like the right time for someone to know.

Mr. Jamison blinked, surprise evident on his face. Then, a small smile tugged at the corners of his lips as he leaned back in his chair.

“Is that so?” he asked, amusement coloring his voice.

I nodded, my cheeks flushing with a mix of embarrassment and newfound confidence. “Yes,” I replied, unable to suppress a shy smile of my own. “We’ve been together for a few months now.”

A knowing look danced in Mr. Jamison’s eyes, as if he had already suspected the connection between Archer and me. He leaned forward, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “You know, I always thought there was something more than friendship between you two.”

I laughed softly, feeling a weight lift from my shoulders. It was comforting to know that someone else saw what I had felt deep in my heart.

“Does anyone else know?” He asked. I shook my head.

“We thought it was better to keep it to ourselves until...” I trailed off as I realized that wasn’t quite true. There was someone who knew. “Well, actually... Avianna knows.”

Mr. Jamison raised his eyebrows. “Avianna? But not Adelynn?”

“It’s a bit of a complicated situation,” I mumbled.

“I see.” Mr. Jamison looked at me for a long moment with a nostalgic look on his face. He sighed. “Love is always best when it’s complicated, isn’t it?”

I was pretty sure he was referencing something but I wasn’t sure exactly what it was. I remembered that Adelynn had mentioned to me a while ago that she thought he had some sort of dramatic romance when he was in high school because of the way he talked about young love. I was tempted to ask him about it but held myself back. Now probably wasn’t the time to get into it.

“Yes,” I said. I thought about all those late nights with Archer, the sneaking around and stolen kisses. I’d always felt that a secret romance was extra swoony and now having lived one, I could absolutely say it was. “Yeah, it is.”

* * *

“Are you warm enough? I can get you more blankets. Or more pillows. Or...” I paced around Archer’s room, feeling like I should be helping with something but not sure what.

“I’m doing great,” he said. “I feel fine. My leg doesn’t even hurt. You can relax.”

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