She sinks back in her seat. “Okay. I’ve never done therapy sessions over the phone or video calls. And I’ll have to make sure I’m not risking my license. But I’m willing to find a solution if you want to continue our sessions while you’re in Boston?”
I nod. Talking over the phone sounds better to me than face-to-face therapy sessions.
She nods. “Good. Now, one thing you need to know is… going back to Boston comes with risks. I—”
She pauses when I briefly meet her eyes. Then I look at the floor. “Her eyes haunt me.” I swallow audibly and look up again.
“I don’t understand.” Dr. Winter raises both eyebrows.
“The woman’s eyes. The one that made me freak out.” My voice is barely a whisper.
Dr. Winter folds her hands in her lap. “Tell me about her.”
A knock sounds at my door followed by my mom’s familiar, “Can I come in?”
“Yeah, come in.” I push myself in a sitting position and lean against the headboard. She made it clear our conversation wasn’t finished after I told her earlier I was leaving tomorrow.
“Are you tired?” My mom takes a hesitant step inside, leaving the door half-open.
“I’m fine.” And for the first time since I arrived in Canada, it’s almost true. Packing my stuff has given me… perspective. I have a goal again. Once I’m in Boston, I’ll figure out the rest.
She takes another step in my direction and sits down on the edge of the bed. “You don’t have to pretend with me, Michael. We want to help you, but—”
“I’m fine, Mom. Dr. Winter said today I’m making progress.”
“She did?” Her eyes light up and the area where my heart still beats in my chest tightens.
“Yes, she thinks I need closure before I can move on and the only way to do that is to go back.”
My mom frowns. “We could come with you—”
I place my hand on hers. “I know you want to protect me. But… I need to go alone. I’ll be fine, Mom. The house has been renovated thanks to Dad and there’s nothing to be afraid of.”
“I don’t want to lose you.” Her eyes fill with tears. I bend forward at the hip and pull her into my arms while she cries her heart out—tears that are solely my fault. I swore to never hurt her again. Look at her now.
Holding her closer, I bury my head on her shoulder. I want to give her what little strength is left inside of me. My reserves might be bigger than I thought them to be after all.
She pulls back and wipes away the tears with the back of her hand. “You were our miracle baby, you know.”
I frown. “I don’t understand.”
She places her hand on my cheek. “I was told I couldn’t get pregnant without the help of hormones when I was eighteen.” She smiles. “And then you happened. You were the most wonderful surprise. Our little miracle. Promise me you’ll take care of yourself.”
“I promise.” I look straight into her tear-filled eyes and make another pact with myself to never hurt her again. I have to make it work. I want to make her happy.
She nods. “Thank you.” Then she places her hand over mine. “Maybe you don’t have to stay for too long in Boston? You know, Jennifer from across the street recently moved back. She is an accountant now. And she’s single. You could ask her out.”
Her prying eyes prevent me from rolling my eyes. “Mom—”
“She’s really pretty. Blonde hair and blue eyes. And she has a nice figure too,” she says with a way too serious tone in her voice.
I put my hand over hers. “Mom, stop. I need to go to Boston. Then I’ll decide what to do next. But… I’m not ready to settle down.” And most likely never will be. But she doesn’t need to know right away that there won’t be any grandchildren. I want more from life.
I might not know what exactly I want to achieve right now. But at least I’m still sure about the fact that settling down in my hometown with one of the neighbors’ daughters is not what I want. I’m still not a family man and most likely will never be one.
Figuring out what I don’t want might be the way for me to find a new purpose in life. And the first item just made it to the list.
Note to self: No family. Never. Ever.
Chapter 6
Michael
Two weeks later, I push myself out of the Uber with shaking hands. Not because I’m nervous. It’s not the first time I’ve been in the city again since I arrived in Boston. I went grocery shopping last week, which went reasonably well, if you ignore the fact that I dropped the shopping bag twice and destroyed the eggs in the process.
I also got my hair cut and had a manicure done. My former teammates made fun of me because I always took care of my hands whereas theirs looked calloused and fucked up. I let them. I learned the hard way that nail bed injuries can be painful as hell when wearing hockey gloves and trying to shoot the puck. Without the cane, I look a lot like my old self again.
At first it was weird to be back in my house. Everything looks like the second accident never happened, except for a circle of black paint on the living room floor. My dad didn’t want to replace the tiles and opted to cover it with a carpet. A pretty ugly carpet.
I threw the thing away the minute I saw it. Other than that, he did a great job with overseeing the renovations via video calls.
My mansion looks picture perfect again. If only I could erase my knee injury and my encounter with the crazy décor lady from my mind as easily.
I cringe when I remember the last time I saw her. Her green eyes wide with fear… Ellie, the woman’s name is Ellie. I’m still not sure why I remember it. Certainly not because I took an instant liking to her.
My resolve stands. I want to move forward with my life and forget what happened. Today is the first step in the right direction. Somehow I need to learn to live again—without the very thing that was on my mind from the moment I woke up to the time I closed my eyes and fell asleep. And dreamed of during the night.
The hockey preseason is about to begin again without me. Even without checking social media and the sports channels, I couldn’t help but notice the billboards with my former teammates. Unlike them, I will never have to complain about the endless road trips, the constant packing and unpacking that comes with them, or the packed practice schedule again.
I wish I could beam myself back to the same time last year. The training sessions and the tight game schedule gave my life structure and a purpose. Without hockey, I lost my navigation system. For the first time in my life, I have no idea what I’ll do tomorrow.
I swallow, wondering if it ever will not hurt to think about the sport I still love more than anything else in this world.
Dr. Winter is right, I need closure, and facing Ellie is an important step. Her visit caused my downfall. Once I’ve apologized to her, things can only get better.
After I’ve accomplished the unpleasant task, I’ll start physical therapy again. But not with the old physical therapist. I’ll hire a new one in Boston and have the perfect reason why I can’t return to Canada for the foreseeable future. My mom will understand that my health is more important than setting me up with the daughter-in-law of her dreams.
Until I’ve found a new trainer, I’ll improve moving around with the cane on my own. She’ll be my permanent mistress for the rest of my life. I better make an effort to connect with her.
“You’re lucky you trained your upper body well,” the doctors told me repeatedly. “You won’t have a problem with the cane.” If it were only true….
I exhale and limp up the ramp. Ellie is prepared to host disabled customers. I applaud that. Not everyone is. Even a single step can seem like an unconquerable mountain for someone disabled, an impossible barrier—not that I want to complain anymore. There are people out there with heavier destinies than mine.
I check the flowers again. I made sure not to crumple them while getting in and out of the car. Should I take off the paper? I never gave a woman flowers in person before. Or sent a woman flo
wers via courier.
Why didn’t I order the bouquet online and have it delivered to her shop? Coming here in person isn’t a good idea. I’m still not sure what to say to Ellie. She’s part of my old life. And….
Don’t be a coward. Go inside, hand her the flowers, apologize, and then leave. How hard can it be?
I’d still rather not face her. But if this encounter is what I need to have another go at life, I’ll make it happen.
The door has one of these old-fashioned knobs. Great. I shift my weight and put the flowers underover the cane so I can open the door. A bell rings when I step inside.
The shop isn’t too big but… cozy. A cozy cottage with wooden shelves and… is that a reading corner over there?
It looks like something my grandma and grandpa had in their cottage back in Canada where I spent a lot of time as a child. Grandpa would always sit in his big armchair in front of the fireplace and read the newspaper—a paper newspaper, imagine that. I don’t know when I last held one in my hands. Probably when Grandpa was still alive. Seems like a lifetime ago. I still miss them.
It’s humbling and soothing to remember a good place and time in our lives—at least that’s what Dr. Winter said during our last session before she deemed me ready to face Boston on my own. With her phone number in my pocket and the promise to schedule our first video session once I arrived. I still haven’t called her.
Invisible strings pull me toward the wide armchair and fake fireplace in the corner. Or is it real? Hard to tell with all the clutter on it. Other people would call it décor. Not me.
As I shuffle forward, my shoulder connects with something cold. The inevitable happens, I lose my balance and topple over. From the corner of my eyes, I see a ladder falling in my direction… and with it, a woman—Ellie. The woman I’m here to… talk to.
Shit. I duck under the ladder and hold on to a shelf at the wall for support. Not a good idea. Turns out the thing isn’t actually connected to the wall.
I shove the wood away with my shoulder while desperately trying to cushion the woman’s fall but fail miserably. Her upper body lands on top of me before the shelf buries her lower body under it. Ellie screams as the ladder crashes down next to us—whether from surprise or pain, I can’t say. Double shit. What is wrong with me? All I wanted was to talk to her. Not destroy her shop. And her.
“Are you freaking blind?” she lifts her head and yells in my face before I can say anything.
“I’m sorry.” I’ve had to say those two words way too often lately.
Her face is a grimace. “You’re sorry?” She rolls her eyes. “He’s freaking sorry. Can you believe it? Can you freaking believe it? Sorry. I… never mind. Would you kindly remove yourself from my person?”
Since she’s lying on top of me, that is a difficult thing to do, but I keep my mouth shut. I’ve left enough of an impression as it is. If she’s forgotten me, she’ll remember me now, no doubt about it. Not that one could ever forget my I-haven’t-showered-in-two-weeks eau de toilette.
That’s what one of the doctors in the hospital called it. I donated a lot of money to said hospital in an attempt to apologize for my… offensive body odor. Nurse Jacinda let me know in colorful language what she thought of having to wash me after my wounds were taken care of.
I didn’t die that day, but I wanted to vanish in the ground out of shame. The medical staff thought I’d puked on myself. I knew better but didn’t say so. The situation was embarrassing enough already when the alcohol and its numbing effect left my system.
Depression was controlling me and my life, and I had no idea what was happening to me. If it hadn’t been for the lady currently lying on top of me, who knows what would have happened. I’d rather not find out.
“Hey, mister.” She waves her hands in front of my face. “Hey.”
“I hear you.” I push her hands away. Why does she have to be so irritating?
“Fantastic. Now what about letting me up?” She crinkles her forehead in a way that resembles a mountain skyline and her voice takes on a shrillness that wasn’t there before.
“You’re the one lying on top of me.” I stare right into her green eyes and notice the brown spots in the green for the first time.
She stares right back. “You may want to have another look. If you haven’t noticed, my feet are stuck. Under the shelf you toppled over.”
I snort. “In case you haven’t noticed, I have trouble walking. I need a second here.”
Ellie closes her eyes. Pity, since they’re her best feature. A brownish green. Not the beautiful green like in my memories, but still better than the rest of her with her mousy hair and plain features. She certainly isn’t my type.
“You mean your mini-limp? It’s not like you’re in a wheelchair.” She narrows her eyes and stares in mine again, not backing down an inch when I narrow mine as well.
Am I in real danger of losing our staring contest?
I frown. “I have balance issues.” Why am I defending myself? And who does she think she is, telling me what I struggle or don’t struggle with.
“Again, I don’t see a wheelchair. What are you complaining about? That teeny, tiny limp? You’re pathetic. I think you have a bigger problem with your ears than with your legs since you didn’t hear my warnings not to run into the ladder. Now, I ask you again to please help me up. You might smell a tad better than the last time we met, but my smell memory hasn’t forgotten your odor yet.” She presses her lips together after her little speech.
I laugh, loud and free, like a child does before I catch myself and put on a stern look again. I had no idea I was still capable of laughing out loud. The vomit lady has a way of getting to me. “Your smell memory? Is that a new thing?”
She pushes at my chest, and I shift my body to the side from under hers. Then I lean over Ellie and lift the shelf off her legs. Thank God for my upper-body training. She hisses when the wood’s weight leaves her lower body.
Shit. Her left foot is turned away from her body in an unnatural angle. Just like mine was. Bile rises in my throat and I sway to the side but catch myself with one hand before darkness takes over.
“Hey. Hey, don’t pass out on me.” Ellie shoves at my shoulder. I’m still hanging half over her with one hand pressed over my mouth.
I shake away the unwanted memories and swallow the bitter taste. Without wasting any time, she rolls on her side, hissing in the process and presents me with her back. She’s clearly in pain. I can’t see how her legs look under the shelf, but that thing is heavy. My shoulder kind of hurts from where I tried to push it away.
“Do you need an ambulance?” I ask in the silence.
“What I need is for you to leave my shop.” She holds herself rigid, still facing away from me.
“Get up on your feet, and I’ll leave.” Once I manage to stand on my feet myself. Where is my cane? Shit, that stupid thing landed out of reach. I look over my shoulder, contemplating what I could hold on to and push myself off the ground. The shelves are not an option. The table is out of reach as well.
I sit up and bend my good knee, stretching out the bad one. “Show me that you can stand up without help.”
She huffs but stays in place, refusing to meet my eyes.
“I don’t think you can.” I drop back and sit up straight right next to her.
“Just leave.” Her voice has lost its sharp edge. I wish she would begin another round of the staring contest. I would know how to stand my ground now and stare right back. But I’m unsure how to respond to this uncertain version of her.
“Stand up first.” I should just leave. If Ellie doesn’t want my help, who am I to force it on her?
She sits up and whimpers.
Double shit. “I’ll call an ambulan—”
“No, no ambulance.” She turns to me and hisses again. “Don’t you know how fucking expensive that is?”
“Ellie.” I put my hand on her shoulder and look down to her leg again. “Holy… I think your leg is broken.�
�
“It can’t be.” She slumps against my hand.
“You need to see a doctor. I’ll pay—”
Ellie shakes her head. “He pays…. You don’t get it, do you? I can’t be sick. I need to work. Not everyone makes millions by skating around. I need to work my behind off to keep my son and me afloat. My foot isn’t broken.” She wipes away my hand like one would brush off a fly.
“Your son?” My gaze drops to her hands. She doesn’t wear a ring. Maybe she never married her baby daddy.
“Yes, high and mighty hockey god. I have a son. And I need to pick him up from daycare later or have someone else do it. And I need to call Sandra, she works here part-time. She’ll need to close the shop.” She shakes her head again. “Why am I even telling you this? Just leave. I’ll manage. I always have.”
Ellie picks up her phone. The glass is completely shattered. Shit. That thing can be replaced, but it’s a pain in the ass to convert all the data to a new phone—at least I hate doing that.
She taps on the shattered glass, trying to bring it to life. From what I can see, that thing is toast.
I reach into my pocket and push my phone in front of her face. She lifts her gaze, giving me a murderous glare, but grabs it out of my hand with a mumbled thank you.
Her fingers fly over the smartphone, and seconds later, she holds it up against her ear.
“Hey, Lily. It’s Ellie…. No, that’s not my number. It’s a long story. Listen, I had a bit of an accident…. No, no. It’s nothing to worry about, but can you pick up Johnny from daycare for me? Oh, I forgot…. Don’t worry. I’ll call my sister….” She closes her eyes for a second, with defeat written all over her face. “Yes, she’s… uh, leaving tomorrow. Have fun in Europe. See you soon.”
“Your sister isn’t here, is she?” Her staring at the floor says it all. “I assume there isn’t anyone else?” Where is the kid’s father?
Ellie bites her lip, then shakes her head, still avoiding my eyes.
Fighting against Gravity: A Standalone Enemies-to-Lovers Sports Romance (An Ice Tigers Hockey Romance Book 3) Page 6