by Mara Jacobs
“No,” Petey and Lizzie said at the same time. They didn’t yell it or anything, but there was firmness in both their voices, which caused his parents to look at them and then at each other. “The pain is manageable,” he added. He looked at his parents. “Seriously. It’s no big deal.”
They looked from him to Lizzie, wanting confirmation that all was well. Lizzie, of course, came through for him like she always did. “It’s fine. Not even worth mentioning. He just liked the pain pills a little too much after his last surgery, so it’s probably better if he could just suck it up and live with the pain this go round.”
“What? Why didn’t—”
“Seriously,” Lizzie said to his mother, placing a hand on her arm. She then looked at his father before she went on. “If it had been a problem—a real problem—you know I would have called you.”
They all looked at her, then each other and then at him. “No big deal. Just don’t want to rely on them. Especially now that I don’t have…won’t have…anything.” Christ, was that his voice catching?
Thank God his surgeon spoke up. “I’d like to keep you in here for at least a couple of days. I’m back on Wednesday, and if it looks good, you can go home then.”
“My other surgeries were all outpatient,” Petey said.
“They weren’t this severe,” the doctor continued. “We really need to keep it immobilized for forty-eight hours. After that, you should be able to move about fairly well. I wouldn’t suggest trying to travel back to Detroit any time soon, though. A flight would be detrimental given the lack of legroom, and driving would be way too long of a trip, even with frequent stops.”
Petey sighed and ran his hand through his hair. It felt stiff and matted. When was the last time he’d showered? Yesterday morning in Detroit before his flight? God, it felt like a thousand years ago. “I guess there’s no rush to get back to the D now.”
“I’ll call your cleaning lady and let her know you’ll be up here for a while. She can take care of things down there.” She looked away, and Petey knew she was already four steps ahead of the rest of them. “I’ll have someone at the firm write up a press release. No. I’ll write it myself, it’s too important.” She stepped away from his bed to where she’d set her purse. She rummaged through the huge bag and pulled out—he knew without even seeing it—a note pad, onto which she immediately began jotting down notes.
Lizzie owned Hampton and Associates, a pubic relations firm, and Petey’d been her first client years ago when she’d branched out on her own. Now she had many clients with bigger names than him, but he always got her special attention.
“You won’t need a cast, but we will definitely want a brace on it for at least a week. Limited movement….” The doctor was rattling off instructions and he was trying to grasp them, but his brain was still a bit fuzzy from the anesthesia. He glanced at Lizzie, who caught his meaning, flipped to a new page in her tablet and looked to the doctor, pen poised like she was a member of the steno pool. He went on about when to have it propped up, how to shower, all that kind of crap. “And try to stay away from icy steps,” the doctor concluded with a smile on his face, a feeble attempt at humor. When it fell flat, he cleared his throat and added, “Actually, stay away from steps of any kind for at least a week.”
“Oh no,” his mother said, her mind obviously going where his went—to their Victorian home with its many stairs.
The home he’d built for himself that he lived in during the summers had a main-floor master bedroom, but a family was living there during the winter, keeping an eye on it for him. The husband was doing a year as a prof at Tech. They only needed a place for nine months, and didn’t want to move their furniture and everything. He wasn’t sure about the details because Lizzie had set it up, saying it would be nice for him to have someone in the house to take care of it. Of all the years that he’d been away during the hockey season, he’d done it maybe four or five times—have somebody in house during the season.
Just his luck that it’d be this year.
Of course, if he was able to stay at his house, his mom would most likely move in to take care of him, and his father would surely follow. He didn’t think he could take the constant hovering from them. That would have him reaching for painkillers for sure.
“Okay. Right,” Lizzie said, quickly coming up with a new plan. “Well, you’ll just come and stay with us. Annie’s able to do stairs now, so she can have Stevie’s room upstairs and you can have the one she used downstairs. Stevie will take the couch—he’ll love that, actually—and….” Lizzie was already planning everything. That was okay with him. Given the choice of kicking out a family from his house, grappling with the steps at his parents (both of those choices coming with his parents’ constant company), and crashing at Lizard’s….
“But, Lizzie, honey,” his mother piped in. “What about the baby? Is he even sleeping through the night?”
“Um, no, not entirely,” she answered, and Petey noticed for the first time just how exhausted his close friend looked. It could have been from the late night holding vigil in the waiting room, but it looked deeper than that. And he wasn’t about to add to her burden.
“Lizard, I can’t stay with you. Not with a baby in the house.”
She waved a hand in dismissal. “It’ll be fine. We’ll just…um….”
“Lizzie,” he said in his best cut-the-crap tone, “it’s not an option. That damn thing squalling all night will seriously mess with my recuperative sleeping patterns.”
Both Lizzie and his mother playfully swatted at him, but he noticed Lizzie didn’t push the idea of having him stay in her already crowded household.
“I’ll just….” Shit, what would he do? And how much would it mess up his knee to fly back to Detroit and just hang out in his one-story condo for the weeks of recuperation? But now that he was done—really done—he didn’t want to be back there during the hockey season. Like he could go in to the rink each day. He hadn’t thought that far ahead, but he knew the day after the season was over, he’d be heading out of the D, most likely for good.
“Oh, well, here’s the perfect solution now,” Lizzie said as she stepped aside. Petey was shocked to see Alison standing in the doorway. “Alison, Petey will be staying with you for a little while.”
Five
I watch a lot of hockey. There are some good hockey players and there are some awfully stupid hockey players.
~ Ted Lindsay
She knew she shouldn’t have come to the hospital today.
Standing in the doorway, she tried to play dumb. “How are you feeling?” she directed at Petey, like she didn’t hear Lizzie. “Looks like things went well.”
“That’s what they tell me,” Petey answered her while motioning to Scott and a physician she didn’t know. She nodded to them both.
The two men made their way toward the door, and Alison reluctantly moved forward into the room to make a path for them to leave. “Dr. Thompson will check in with you later today. I’ll be back on Wednesday morning and we’ll see about getting you out of here.”
“You have to be here until Wednesday?” she asked.
Petey shrugged, like it was no big deal. Alison didn’t have a ton of experience with surgery, but she was pretty sure one like Petey’s was done outpatient most of the time.
“Once they got in there, it was more of a mess than they thought,” Lizzie explained. “Recovery time may be a lot longer than normal, too.”
Petey visibly bristled at that. God, he must hate this. Having people hover around him like this. He loved attention, that’s for sure, but not like this.
She desperately tried to think of something to say to Lizzie to distract her from the train of thought she’d obviously been on when Alison had come in. “Umm…you….” Shit. She had nothing.
It didn’t matter, because Petey’s mom chimed in with, “Alison, we were thinking that maybe Petey could stay at your place for a few days once he gets out of here. Just until he’s able to n
egotiate steps a little better.”
She glanced at Petey. His glower was just daring her to…. “Doesn’t look like he’s real able to negotiate steps on his best days,” she hurled out while motioning to his wrapped and elevated knee.
Petey’s eyes flashed with what looked like grudging respect at her zinger. His father snorted. His mother and Lizzie looked at her like she’d just kicked a puppy. Yeah. Right. A six-three, two forty-five puppy.
“I can stay with Ron,” Petey said. “He’s in a first-floor apartment.”
“Ewww,” was out of her mouth before she could think about it. Gut reaction whenever she thought about Ron since he’d destroyed Katie. Not that she wasn’t loads better off now.
“The guy fucked up. It cost him. Big time. Cut him some slack,” Petey argued. Of course he argued the point with her.
“It doesn’t matter,” Lizzie said. “He’s got Amber and the baby with him.”
Petey shook his head. “Why do I keep forgetting about that?”
Because you’re an idiot was just about out of her mouth before she caught herself. No need to kick the puppy even further. Her mind started racing through all the people she knew who would take Petey in. A bunch came to mind. Then she started weeding out the ones with lots of steps in their home. Crap. That was most of them. The area was loaded with older two-story homes. Tall and narrow, with smaller roof areas to have to shovel in the winter.
“Alison’s will be fine. Perfect in fact, because you wouldn’t even have to do the front steps if we pulled right into the garage.”
Damn. Why’d she have to have that attached garage added a few years ago? Because she was sick to death of shoveling her car out every morning. But she’d take that right now over where this conversation was heading.
“I can stop over in the mornings to see how you’re doing while Al’s with patients,” Lizzie started in with whatever master plan she was brewing. “Of course I’ll have to bring Sam with me. Or maybe Finn can adjust his time with the horses to be in the house with Sam for a while.” She waved a hand, dismissing that possible impediment. “Mrs. Ryan, do you still leave work after school gets out?” At the woman’s nod, Lizzie barreled on. “So you can stop over while Alison’s here with her dad and then at her mom’s.”
She saw Petey give her a questioning look at that. He must not be aware that her mom needed looking in on. She kept quiet.
“Oh, but you’re spending the nights at your mom’s now, aren’t you?” Lizzie asked her with compassion in her voice.
Say yes. That would end the whole thing right there. No way should Petey be left alone overnight when he’d barely be able to walk. Just keep your trap shut and this farce will be over with.
“Actually, Sherry’s coming in tomorrow. She’s going to be staying with Mom for a few weeks.” Wow. Okay. She typically tried never to play shrink with herself, but that just begged to be analyzed.
Later.
“See? That couldn’t have worked out any better,” Lizzie said, like everything was concluded.
“Alison still hasn’t said if she wants me to stay with her,” Petey said, looking right at her.
His parents and Lizzie looked at her, puzzlement on their faces. Or course they’d be puzzled. To them, it’d be like Lizzie taking Petey in—automatic. To them, she and Petey had been best buds for years. They had no idea. None of them knew about…. She looked back at Petey. Was that a challenge in his expression? His strong chin tilted up ever so slightly, a gleam came into his eyes. Yep. The son of a bitch was challenging her.
She just wasn’t sure to what.
“Of course I want you to stay with me,” she answered with absolutely no hint of sarcasm in her voice. His parents and Lizzie all looked as if her answer were no big deal, like it was a foregone conclusion that she’d want to help out her dear, dear friend.
But the look in Petey’s eyes. It seemed like part shock that she’d called his bluff. Part irritation that he’d now be under her roof, at her mercy as it were. But the other part of that look….
She trembled just a tiny bit, feeling a shock of awareness go through her. The other three people around the bed didn’t notice, as they were gathering things or settling into chairs.
But Petey noticed. And his look of triumph had her scurrying for the door.
***
“So let’s see your ring,” Mr. Jukuri said to Petey late on Tuesday afternoon.
“I don’t have a ring, Mr. J. I wasn’t with the Red Wings when they won the Cup, remember?” Wrong thing to say apparently, as Alison’s father got a confused look on his face and then turned to look out the window of his hospital room.
Petey and Lizzie had spent all morning crafting a press release about his injury, talking on the phone with the Red Wings front office—who’d been incredibly understanding, even though they’d need to call up an inexperienced defenseman to finish out the season—and working out logistical details of him not returning to Detroit for the foreseeable future.
She’d brought the baby with her, in one of those carrier things. Petey had to admit it was a cute little thing. He. Sam. Sam was a cute little thing. Being an only child himself, and Lizzie being the first in their close group to have kids, Petey didn’t have a lot of experience with babies. Yeah, sure, his teammates had a bunch of kids, but Petey’d never been one to hang out at a teammate’s home and intrude on family time during the season. They got it so infrequently with the crazy road schedule.
And Sam seemed to have inherited his mother’s love of plans. Lizzie announced when she’d entered his room that Sam would be awake just long enough for he and Petey to become acquainted and then sleep while they conducted business, and damn if that wasn’t exactly what happened.
But after she left, and before his mother was due to arrive after her day of work as Houghton’s elementary school’s chief administrative assistant, Petey felt a little stir crazy. Dr. Thompson had said he’d need to get out of bed and move around a bit with the brace and crutches before they’d let him leave tomorrow. So he’d asked a nurse to set up a wheelchair for him a little bit outside his room and then hobbled to it before collapsing into it.
It’d been a lot harder on him than he’d thought it’d be. He was so drained he didn’t put up any argument when the nurse started wheeling him around. To give him a change of scenery, she’d said. It all looked the same to Petey—depressing as hell—until he thought to ask to be brought to Mr. Jukuri’s room for a visit.
Mr. J had always liked Petey. Had always loved talking hockey with him. And Petey liked talking with Mr. J. because he wasn’t nearly so obsessive about hockey as his own father was.
But now, looking at the frail man, confused by his own failing memory, Petey wondered if he should have come at all.
“Lots of people do that,” he tried to reassure him. “Assume I won the Cup. But no, I was with the Stars during those years.”
He’d hated Dallas. The guys had been all right, and the front office had been good to him. But the lack of seasons bugged him. It just didn’t feel right to leave the ice rink and walk out into ninety-degree heat. He’d missed Michigan and was grateful when he’d been traded back to the Wings.
He’d never even bought a place in Texas, just rented. It’d never felt like home.
“Yes, that’s right. You were with Dallas during those years. I forgot about that.”
“Yeah, I’m still trying to,” Petey said with a wink that caused Mr. J to laugh. Ah, good, he was back. Or maybe he’d never left.
“And will you be able to finish out the season, Pete?” he asked, nodding toward Petey’s knee.
“Doesn’t look that way.”
“There’s always next year.”
“Actually, that does it for me. I’m officially retired. They’ll make the announcement tomorrow.”
“Oh, that’s a shame. They’ll miss you on the blue line.”
Petey felt a lump form in his throat, and his good-natured aww-shucks comeback died on his lip
s. Holy shit, this was for real. Lizzie’s group would take care of the details, but he was going to be bombarded with looks like Mr. Jukuri was giving him right now.
It wasn’t quite pity—who would pity a hockey star making two mil a year? It wasn’t just compassion. He didn’t know what the hell it was, but suddenly he was grateful he’d be hiding out at Alison’s for the next week and be able to dodge all of it.
Speak of the devil—in she walked. And dressed in red, too. The smile she directed at her father faltered when she saw Petey sitting in the wheelchair next to the older man’s bed.
“What are you doing here?” she asked him as she took off her red coat, draped it over a chair, then moved to the other side of her father’s bed and kissed his wrinkled cheek.
“Stretching my legs,” he answered. Mr. J laughed, but he got a “humph” from Alison. “Doc said I needed to move a little, so I walked with crutches and the brace to the chair.”
“How’s the pain?”
Like you wouldn’t believe. “Manageable.”
She looked closer at him. She started to say something then stopped. Turning to her father, she asked in a much nicer voice than she’d used with Petey, “And how are you today, Daddy?”
“Fine, dear, fine.” He gave his daughter a warm smile and Petey noticed the brief look of melancholy that flitted across her face.
That sweet, round, almost angelic face that contorted with near pain as she climaxed beneath him.
“I was just talking hockey with Petey. Sounds like he’s hanging up his skates. But you probably already knew that.”
“I did, yes.”
“I guess we all grow old,” he said, then let out a weary sigh. “I’m feeling pretty good today, Alison, are there things we should go over?”
“Should I leave?” Petey asked and made to move the wheelchair.
“No, no, you’re fine,” Mr. Jukuri said. It looked like Alison was about to trump her father’s choice when he added, “I’ve enjoyed our chat and would like to talk some more if you have the time.”