by Lizzy Ripp
Julia nodded, trying to keep her thoughts strictly business and failing utterly. Her mind drifted back to the way Yaro had felt under her hands, how soft his lips had been and how, the moment they’d landed on her neck, she’d almost lost control entirely. She shivered again.
Suddenly, a player skidded to a stop directly in front of the glass they were sitting behind and gave them a wave, complete with a winning grin.
“Jonathan,” Julia said, leaning over to Cassie. “Your new boyfriend?”
“He’s such a goofball,” Cassie laughed, giving him a coy smile in return. Jonathan leaned on the glass.
“Imagine meeting you here!” He called, leaning casually on the glass as fans ogled on either side.
“So am I taking you to dinner later?” He yelled again, straining to be heard over the clamor of the crowd.
Cassie laughed, and Julia could tell that she was genuinely charmed. Suddenly, she was aware of cameras zooming in on the two of them and Cassie really came to life. Julia watched in awe - she played her own game every bit as deftly as the players zipping around out there on the ice did.
“Sure,” she said to Jonathan, who looked absolutely over the moon, and then she gave a little laugh and waved to the camera and the fans around them who were clamoring for a look at her. Then she pulled Julia into frame and the two of them, Julia’s face burning like a flame, waved to the camera and blew kisses until the cameras trailed off to the action on the ice.
“Well, I guess that’s your post-game plan taken care of,” Julia said wryly and Cassie grinned back. “The demands of show business are never ending,” she said blithely shrugging her shoulders. “Anyway, I’m going to go get a drink, you want anything?”
“I think I’m good,” Julia said. “Thanks anyway.” She had to fly tomorrow and decided a hangover was not the best idea.
As Cassie headed off up the stairs, Julia kept her eyes on the game, which was progressing at a cracking pace. They were playing well tonight - against Detroit, who were arguably the better team. But goal after goal went in, and she noted with satisfaction that it was Yaro who was proving to be one of the stars of the show. He was on fire tonight, and as she watched, he assisted Jonathan to his first goal of the evening, for which the arena exploded into cheers.
After his assist, Yaro came off-ice to the box for a rest and she felt herself hyper-aware of the nearness of him, only a narrow pane of glass separating them. She wasn’t sure if he was aware that she was there or not - he may have seen her on the screen or he may have been too involved in the game to register what was happening, and so she sat unobtrusively, not wanting to distract him.
She felt the hair on the back of her neck stand up, however, and knew he was looking at her. She decided to let him for a little while, staring out at the ice ponderously.
Finally, she decided to let him off the hook and turned her head. Just as she’d suspected, he was gazing at her from under his helmet, his face sweaty but solemn, his eyes boring into her with frank interest.
Now she had to make a choice, she knew. Was she going to follow her heart and let him back in - even though she was afraid? The wound Daniel had left behind was still far from healed, its tenderness making itself known anytime anyone brushed too close. Was she really willing to rip it open again, to risk everything once more?
‘Hey’, she mouthed, before her brain could stop her.
Score one for the heart then.
----
When Cassie returned to her seat with her vodka cran, she found a glowing Julia staring dreamily out onto the ice and knew at once that something had taken place while she was away.
“What have you done?” She asked, unable to hide the smile from her face. “Did you two kiss and make up while I was gone?”
“Kiss, no,” Julia said.
“Make up, yes?”
“Sort of,” Julia blushed.
“I knew it,” Cassie said, shaking her head with a smile. “You’re just not the hardened career type, my friend.”
Julia shrugged helplessly. “I guess I’m not. But I promise I’m still going to put the job first. I have to,” she said firmly. “There’s no way I can let this opportunity slip away.”
“That’s my girl,” Cassie said appraisingly, and the two of them went back to observing the game in high spirits.
----
“What a game!” Julia crowed after Yaro had assisted Jonathan to his hat-trick, a feat the two girls celebrated by yelling wildly and jumping up from their seats to cheer - something Cassie was sure the cameras got a good whiff of.
“Nothing earns fans like a little home town spirit, trust me,” she whispered to Julia confidentially as the two of them hugged exuberantly.
“You are incredible,” Julia said, and meant it absolutely.
“Just a savvy businesswoman,” Cassie said as the two of them took their seats again. They started gathering up their bags - the game was basically over, wrapping up at 4-1 with the home team the victors. Julia was buzzing from the atmosphere inside the stadium and the possibility of seeing Yaro again- she felt like it was her very first date in Junior High or something.
“Hey, what’s going on?” Cassie asked, craning her neck towards the opposite end of the ice, where, Julia noted with alarm, several players were gathered together in a brawl which, in her pleasant reverie, she hadn’t even seen occurring.
“Is it a fight?” She asked, worried. “Who is it?”
“I don’t think it’s a fight,” Cassie said. “It looks like someone is hurt.”
“Shit,” Julia muttered, getting to her feet. “I’ll have to see what this is about. I’ll call you later, okay?”
Cassie nodded and Julia took off through the fans at a sprint, about half of whom were leaving the arena, the score having been well and truly settled, and half of whom were still milling about rubbernecking at the drama unfolding before them.
“Excuse me, pardon me, just… I’ve just got to get through here,” Julia muttered incessantly as she squeezed, dodged and dipped her way between a sea of people, flashing her security badge to get to the team-only area close by the ice. She slid to a stop just shy of the opposing team’s box, where Jerry was shouting at the opposing coach, his neck the color of a beetroot and an alarming vein bulging in his forehead.
“Why don’t you get him off the ice so he can stop crying about it for the cameras, huh?” He was yelling, spittle flying from his mouth as he gestured wildly to the ice, where Ryan Sorbo was speaking to television cameras about whatever incident had taken place, his expression a perfect picture of solemn regret.
The other team’s captain - a younger man than Jerry with a sleek head of hair and a bad fake tan, was yelling back with equal gusto. Rather than get in the middle to ask for details, Julia instead scanned the ice, searching for Yaro. When she didn’t see him, she felt a cold knot in the pit of her stomach as her gaze drifted towards the man down on the ice, who was clearly out cold, medical staff hovering around him as if they were giving him his last rites.
Suddenly she spied Christina on the other side of the box and rushed towards her, moving slower than she was used to on her high heels. Cursing them every step of the way, she skidded to a stop in front of the older woman, who was looking to the ice with concern, her arms crossed tightly over her chest.
“It’s Yaro, isn’t it?” Julia panted, following her gaze.
“It is,” Christina nodded. “He went in for a check on Ryan Sorbo - a check he absolutely did NOT need to make, I might add, and Ryan ducked down and sent him flying into the glass. He was out cold by the time he hit the ice.”
Julia couldn’t help the small gasp that slipped out at that. She’d seen enough injuries on the job to know just how bad a hard hit could be.
“Is he still out?”
“Yeah,” Christina said, her tone taut. “They’re trying to bring him around now.”
As the two women watched, a stretcher was brought out onto it, and several of Yaro’s teammat
es helped load his considerable and unconscious bulk onto it. As it was wheeled away, he was given a small smattering of applause for the day’s efforts from the fans that had remained to assess the situation. She had a feeling a part of him would appreciate that, had he been awake to enjoy it.
As Julia and Christina moved to follow the stretcher, leaving Jerry and the opposing team’s coach to their ever-intensifying shouting match, Julia asked, “Why would Yaro check him if he didn’t need to? The game was almost over.”
Christina shrugged. “It’s Ryan Sorbo. Everyone hates that cocky little jerk. He probably said something that got under his skin at some point and he wanted to pay him back for it. Who knows?”
Julia struggled to keep up with Christina’s fast pace - her heels seeming like just an extension of her gazelle-like limbs - and flashed her security badge as she trotted along behind. They were taking him to the medical room - not to an ambulance, which was generally a good sign.
“Ladies, we don’t need you in here right now,” the coaching assistant, a smaller, less rotund version of Jerry called Mark said, holding his hands up to stop them from following any further. “If anything develops we’ll shoot you a text, okay?”
Christina cleared her throat and gestured to Julia. “Don’t you think it’ll look a little strange if she isn’t allowed in?”
Mark looked at Julia as if seeing her for the first time and sighed. “All right,” he agreed grudgingly. “But just her.”
Christina held up her hands in acquiescence and gestured to Julia to go in.
“I’ll be right outside if you need anything,” she said, striding off down the hallway and towards the management offices.
Julia took a deep breath, looked at Mark, who was studying her skeptically, squared her shoulders and stepped inside.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
JULIA HUNG BACK in the room, wanting to be as unobtrusive as possible. There were a lot of people scurrying around - the team doctor and Mark and a few people she didn’t know at all. A moment later, Jerry stormed into the room, bringing with him the usual alarming atmosphere of fire and brimstone.
“Yaro,” the doctor was saying, leaning into his face. “You awake, buddy? We’re gonna need you to open your eyes, okay?”
Julia was just thinking that this was a stupid thing to tell someone who was unconscious, but she didn’t have much time to think about it before she was seized by the shoulders by Jerry and shoved towards Yaro’s prone form.
“Smell wakes people up, doesn’t it?” He barked, as Julia’s eyes widened. “Let him smell her.”
“I don’t smell!” Julia yelped, looking apologetically to the doctor who gave the both of them a withering stare.
“He’d better not have a damn concussion,” Jerry growled. “That’s the last thing this team needs right now. He’d be off for god knows how long. Treat them with kid gloves now, don’t they?” He asked, giving Julia a nudge with his elbow. “Russians are made of stronger stuff. You know - like we were back before everyone was scared of everything.”
The doctor pressed his lips into a firm line, but gave no reply.
“We’d be concussed, one, two times in a night,” Jerry went on, with a strangely nostalgic look in his eyes for someone who was going on about being regularly knocked unconscious. “And just look at me. I’m fit as a fiddle. Do you know I run five miles every morning?” He told Julia, who tried to fix her face into what she hoped passed for an interested smile. “That’s every morning, mind you,” he emphasized, “Rain or shine. I’ve got the work ethic of ten of these boys. The Russian here included,” he said, gesturing to the unconscious man in front of them.
A slight twitch of his leg, however, seemed to indicate that he was unconscious no longer, and this was followed by further proof - a deep, room-rattling groan.
The crowd of medical personnel around Yaro drew in ranks and Julia was pushed out, but not before she’d had time to catch a single flutter of his eyes during which time it seemed he caught sight of her directly. But she couldn’t be sure, as he clamped them shut again directly afterwards with another miserable yowl.
“Yaro, you’ve got to open your eyes, okay?” The doctor said again. “You’ve got a concussion, so we’re going to need you to stay awake. C’mon buddy, open up.”
Julia couldn’t really tell what was happening, but a further flurry of activity seemed to indicate that Yaro had at least opened his eyes.
“Okay, we’re gonna go ahead and call an ambulance for you,” the doctor went on, clearly trying to keep his tone soothing. “Nothing to worry about, they’re just going to check you over and make sure everything is all good.”
“Already on its way,” another tech said, striding in from the corridor, tucking their cellphone back into their pocket.
“Does he have someone to ride with him?” The team doctor was asking and before she even realized what she was saying, Julia had volunteered.
“I’ll go.”
For a moment, everyone stopped and stared at her - most probably with no idea whatsoever who she was.
“Good, good,” Jerry said, clapping a familiar arm around her shoulder. Julia’s a valued employee as well as a - well, a friend - of Yaro’s so he’ll be in good hands.”
Julia gave a weak smile in return.
—
Almost before she knew what was happening, she was in the cramped back of an ambulance with Yaro and a paramedic, who was, he confessed in awe, a massive fan.
“Wow, you’re uh - really big in person,” the paramedic, himself a scrawny young man in his early twenties said to Yaro’s semi-conscious form. This was true enough. He barely fit in the back of the ambulance and space with the three of them there was certainly at a premium. Julia was squished back against a small shelf full of equipment, sitting sideways and trying not to careen off her seat as the ambulance wove between traffic.
“Do you want to sit up front?” The young man asked, eyeing her doubtfully.
“No, no, that’s okay. I’m fine!” Julia said, giving a small squeak as a sharp turn nearly upended her.
The young man was keeping up a steady stream of conversation with Yaro who gave murmured sounds that stood in for “yes” or “no” or “I’m listening.” Julia supposed this was all to keep him awake - though she wondered just how much of any of this he would remember. She wondered if he had any idea if she was even there with him and so, to show him that she was, she took his hand in hers and gave it a firm squeeze. He returned it gently and she smiled.
“It’s probably nothing serious,” the paramedic said to her. “We get injuries like these all the time in sports. Just important to check them out and make sure everything’s hunky-dory up there. You only get one brain.”
“Less, in some cases,” Julia joked. No one laughed, although to be fair, half of her audience was semi-conscious.
After what felt like far too long, the ambulance pulled into the hospital and the young paramedic and his partner, an older, harried-looking woman with no inclination for conversation, helped unload Yaro from the back of the vehicle.
“God, he’s a big one,” the woman grunted. “Can I get a little help?” She called to one of the hospital security guards, who trotted over to assist. Once he was unloaded and wheeled into the sliding doors, the younger paramedic turned back to Julia.
“You’ll have to wait out here until the doctor can see him,” he said apologetically. “It shouldn’t be too long. But there’s a cafe over there if you’re hungry, or a Starbucks around the block if you like the fancy stuff.”
“Oh,” Julia said, slightly crestfallen. “That’s okay. I’ll uh… I’ll just be out here then. Thanks for all your help.”
With a friendly smile, the young man excused himself and Julia was left alone in the waiting room, which was full of parents wrestling screaming babies, sleeping family members, and those not deemed urgent enough to be sent through to Emergency directly. There was a television mounted in the corner playing old re-runs of MA
SH and so Julia settled into one of the plastic-coated chairs and with a deep sigh sat back to wait for what she assumed would be quite a while.
Once she’d completed about five rounds of Maury declaring which men were and were not the father of various children, she heard her name called from the front of the room and made her way towards the desk.
“Julia Delroy?” Asked the woman behind the counter.
“That’s me,” Julia said. “It’s about Yaro Sharapova?”
“Mmhmm. He’s up and asking for you. I’ll buzz you through now. Room 610.”
Thanking her, Julia trotted through the electronic doors and clopped down the linoleum of the hospital halls, feeling uneasy and jittery. She had never liked hospitals. She’d avoided them as actively as possible since she was seventeen years old and even still their antiseptic smell and aura of sickness and decay made her stomach churn and the beginnings of panic ring out from her brain. But this was important.
She paused for a moment in the hall, nearly upsetting an orderly, and took a moment to begin a breathing exercise she’d learned in therapy - around the time of her last hospital visit. She closed her eyes. In for one, two, and three. And out for one, two, three, four and five. After a few rounds of this she felt the panic beginning to recede, her heart returning to a normal rhythm. She could do this.
After a few more yards she found 610 and gave a tiny knock at the open door before letting herself in. There were three beds in the room, closed off from one another with curtains. Crap, she thought. Which one was it?
In trepidation, she crept towards the first bed, calling Yaro’s name softly. Hearing nothing in response, she peered across the curtain and leapt back with a shriek. It was not in fact Yaro lying there, but the entire exposed back and bottom of a very old man lying on his side to give what appeared to be a hearty burn on his exposed leg some time free from contact with the bed below him.