A Perfect Catch

by Anna Sugden

  Tracy’s chest tightened as she scanned the man’s face. He looked tired, but she couldn’t tell whether his news would be good or bad.

  Dr. Gibson cleared his throat. “I’m sure you all have a load of questions for me, but let me give you the good news first. Ike came through surgery well. Although there was extensive damage to his forearm, we were able to repair it all.”

  Relief flooded through Tracy.

  Even so, she felt ill as the surgeon went on to describe the injury—three severed tendons, one partially severed tendon, a sliced artery and some nerve damage. “Thankfully, the prompt attention of the Ice Cats medical staff meant that Ike’s arm was in the best condition it could have been for us to work on. That made my job a lot easier.”

  “Will he make a full recovery?” Rory’s quiet question reverberated round the room.

  The surgeon gave a weary smile. “It’s too early to tell, but the signs are good and there’s no reason he shouldn’t eventually be as good as new. I’ll know more in a couple of days, once the swelling has gone down and his arm has begun to heal.”

  “What kind of recovery time are we looking at, doc?” Kenny asked.

  “Hard to say for sure. Everyone’s different. I’d expect Ike to be back on the ice in three to four months.”

  The room took in a collective breath. Months. That meant Ike would be out pretty much for the rest of the season. A huge blow for the Ice Cats.

  On the bright side, at least he would be back.

  “When can I see my boy?” Karina asked.

  “He’s in recovery right now. Once he’s back in his room, he’ll be allowed visitors. But only family tonight. The rest of you can see him tomorrow when he’s had a chance to rest.”

  His words broke the tension that had hung like a pall over the room. Everyone started to talk at once as relief washed over them.

  Ike was going to be okay. Tears burned in Tracy’s eyes. The tightness in her shoulders eased. She felt weak, as if she had nothing left in the tank. Thankfully, no one was paying any attention to her, giving her the chance to pull herself together.

  As she got to her feet, getting ready to leave since she wouldn’t be able to see Ike tonight anyway, an arm dropped across her shoulders and pulled her close.

  “How’re you holding up, beautiful?” JB Larocque’s dark eyes searched hers.

  The Ice Cats star had been an honorary member of the Badoletti and Jelinek clan since Jake had helped him out of trouble in his rookie year. Both Maggie and Tracy had a soft spot for the young charmer, too, thinking of him almost like a younger brother.

  “I’m okay, thanks.” She managed a half smile, though her lips felt stiff.

  “Uh-huh.” JB wiped a tear from her cheek with his forefinger. “I can tell.”

  “I’m relieved. It sounded like a terrible injury. Maggie was worried, so I said I’d find out how Ike was doing for her. Though these days, she’ll hear about it more quickly through social media than waiting for me to call.” Damn it. Why did she have to babble mindlessly?

  “Yeah. Hardshaw just left to update the press. They’ll be keen to air his statement, given they’ve been running the footage of the accident almost constantly.”

  Tracy’s stomach churned. “That’s a highlight I don’t want to see.”

  “It was bad enough being there. Scared the crap out of me.”

  “I don’t know how you managed to play on.”

  “We had to get the W for Ike.” JB scrubbed a hand across his jaw. “Hardest thing I’ve ever done.”

  She tilted her head against his, so their temples touched. “He’ll appreciate what you did.”

  He sighed heavily. “It still sucks.”

  They stood that way for a few moments, each lost in their own thoughts. Then JB straightened and dropped his arm. “I’d better hit the road. I’m wiped.”

  “I’ll walk out with you.”

  “Don’t you want to see Ike?” He frowned, surprised.

  Tracy shook her head. “I’m not family.”

  “You’re as much family as I am.”

  Though she felt herself wavering, Tracy shook her head again. “I can wait. It’s more important for Karina to see him. She’s worried sick.”

  “And you’re not?” There was that probing, all-seeing look again.

  “Of course I’m concerned. As I would be if any of you got hurt.” She hated that her voice shook on the last word.

  JB held her gaze silently, as if waiting for her to change her mind. When she didn’t, he shrugged. “Whatever you say.”

  “If you’re ready to go, I’ll walk out with you.”

  “Okay.” He pressed a kiss to her forehead. “I bet Ike would appreciate you stopping by tomorrow.”

  About as much as he’d appreciate being sidelined for the next few months. Maybe that’s why she was so hesitant about seeing him. She wasn’t sure he’d want her there. That thought tugged at her heart. “I...uh...should say goodbye to Karina, but I think I’ll just slip away.”

  “Then let’s bug out.”

  Tracy managed to hold herself together as she walked through the media throng and out of the hospital doors. JB walked her to her car before heading off to his own. Once he’d gone, she lowered her head to the steering wheel, taking several deep, shaky breaths to calm her jittery pulse.

  When she got home, Tracy called Maggie to update her on Ike’s condition, fed Moppet and Poppet, then poured herself a glass of wine and sank onto the couch. She switched on the TV, hoping to watch something light.

  Unfortunately, she caught the sports news, which led off with the story about Ike. Tracy should have changed the channel, but she couldn’t look away. Her throat burned as she saw the blood spurt from Ike’s injured arm. His pale face and confused expression made her heart ache. A chill went through her as he collapsed and those around him rushed to help. The network kept replaying the moment of the injury. It looked almost harmless. It wasn’t like Steeler had stamped on Ike. A quick swipe and the damage was done.

  The coverage switched to the press conference at the hospital. Hardshaw kept details to a minimum, briefly summarizing what the surgeon had told them. Coach Macarty braved the barrage of questions, though he clearly looked as shaken as his players. He shut the interview down when a thoughtless journalist asked about the Ice Cats’ goaltending situation while Ike was out.

  “This isn’t the time for that question. Right now, our thoughts and prayers are with Ike and his family,” he snapped before stalking away.

  Finally Tracy flicked off the television. Her mind kept replaying what she’d seen in all its glory. Despite the surgeon’s reassurances, she couldn’t quite believe that Ike was all right.

  Her hand trembled as she lifted her wineglass to her lips. Perhaps she’d been a bit hasty, rushing out of the hospital. Maybe if she’d seen Ike, she’d be able to move past the gruesome images etched into her brain.

  It would only take a few minutes to stop by and see him tomorrow. Hopefully, he’d still be too groggy from the operation to pay much attention to why she was there. If not, she could claim that Maggie wanted reassurance. Regardless, it was something she had to do. She’d worry about any fallout later.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  EVERYONE WAS LAUGHING AT HIM.

  Ike tried to skate across to his crease, but he kept losing an edge and falling over. Meanwhile, the Rangers players jeered at him as they fired pucks into the open net. The score kept flashing up—rising and rising—more like a basketball tally than hockey.

  The laughter grew. Ike looked up to see himself on the Jumbotron. Why was he wearing a hospital gown? The other players catcalled as they pointed at his bare ass on the screens.

  Determination burned in his gut as he crawled across the ice. He would make it to his goal if it
killed him. Inch by painful inch, he drew closer, until he could grab one of the posts to pull himself up. But before he could, the red pipe turned into skate blades, gleaming in the lights of the arena.

  Pucks flew at him from all sides. He tried to block or catch them, but kept missing. Finally, one came at him at the perfect angle. He reached out to snatch it from the air, but as he did, his arm went back into the goal and those skate blades closed around it. He screamed in agony as they sliced his arm with the finesse of a sushi chef and the crowd mockingly chanted his name.

  “Ike. Wake up.”

  Ike felt himself jolt, but couldn’t move. His limbs were heavy, as if weighted down. His arm hurt like a son of a bitch. Sweat beaded on his forehead. His heart pounded furiously against his ribs. He tried to swallow, but his mouth was too dry. His eyes opened, but the bright light hurt, so he shut them again.

  “It’s okay.” A gentle hand wiped a cool, moist cloth across his forehead.

  The comforting touch helped push the nightmare from his brain until all that remained was the sharp, throbbing pain in his arm. He frowned as he recognized the soothing voice. A familiar scent teased his nostrils, light and fresh above the antiseptic smell.

  There was no way Tracy would be mopping his brow.

  “You were dreaming.” Definitely Tracy’s voice. “The nurse said the anesthetic can have that effect on some people.”

  He must be dying; no way she’d talk that softly to him otherwise. A sorrowful pang tugged at his chest as he mourned lost chances. Why hadn’t he done more to try to win her back?

  Then, as she wiped his forehead again, reality crashed into his brain. Because no amount of trying would have made a damn bit of difference.

  Still, if he was dying, he might as well enjoy his last moments with her. He forced his eyes open, despite the glare of the sun through the window.

  “Let me close the blinds a little.” Tracy walked to the window.

  Ike breathed a sigh of relief as the light faded.

  A nurse came in and checked his vital signs and his IV, then adjusted his pillows and showed him how to raise the bed. “If you need more pain relief, you can press this button.” She touched the control lying beside his left hand. “Don’t be a martyr. It doesn’t do you or me any favors.”

  He nodded his understanding, grateful that the drug took effect almost immediately—seeping into his veins and making him feel light-headed. He didn’t like the wooziness, but he ached all over and his arm felt as though those blades were still slicing him.

  Once the nurse had left, Tracy returned to his bedside. She hovered uncertainly. If he didn’t know better, he’d say she was nervous.

  “I...uh...should probably go. I just wanted to check you were okay. For Maggie and...” Her voice trailed off. She cleared her throat. “Anyway, I hope you get better soon.”

  He didn’t want her to leave. “Si—” he tried to speak, but struggled to get a sound out.

  “Here.” Tracy put a glass of water in his good hand, twisting the straw so it was against his lips. “Dry mouth is another side effect.”

  The cold water was blissful against his raw throat. After several sips, he said hoarsely, “Sit. Stay. Please.”

  She hesitated for a few seconds, then perched on the edge of the chair, looking like she might jump up again at any moment. “How are you feeling?”

  “Like I got ran over by a Zamboni. Twice.”

  “That second time is always the killer.” Her lips curved briefly. “You gave everyone quite a scare. Poor Steeler was beside himself.”

  As she spoke, memories began to flood back. But Ike’s mind was still muddled and he found it hard to distinguish between what had really happened and what had been a dream. Clearly the whole “bare-assed in a gown” thing wasn’t true. The damage to his arm, though, was all too real.

  “I remember the pileup and making it off the ice. After that, it’s a blank until I woke up in this room.” He frowned again. “I don’t even know if the Cats won.”

  “They did, and Kenny got you the game puck. Though I don’t know why you’d want a souvenir of that game.”

  Ike shrugged. “It’s one to add to the collection, I guess. It’s not like I get hurt too often.”

  “I think you’ve made up for your lack of injuries with this one.”

  “For sure. The doc said it’ll be a long time before I can even practice, let alone play.”

  “I know that’s tough, but once your arm heals, you’ll be as good as new. You’re lucky.”

  “Real lucky—I’m out until at least March.” Everything was clear now, even the things he wished he could forget.

  “You could have been out permanently.” Tracy’s voice softened. “You’ll be back on the ice before you know it.”

  “In the meantime, I’m not freaking allowed out of bed until I get the okay from the doc. I can’t even twiddle my thumbs.” His laugh was edged with bitterness. “Then when he does let me up, all I can do is physio on my arm. I can’t work out until I’m cleared from that—which could be weeks.”

  How the hell was he supposed to keep himself game-fit if he couldn’t exercise? Not even a stationary bike. Ike had promised he’d be careful not to do anything that’d damage his arm—damn it, he wouldn’t risk setting his recovery back further—but Dr. Gibson had been resolute. Ike’s arm was the first, the only, priority.

  The one glimmer of hope had been the surgeon’s confidence that Ike’s overall level of fitness would mean his recovery should be faster than for a non-athlete. But even that had come with a caveat—as long as Ike followed instructions to the letter.

  “I’m sure it’ll pass more quickly than you think,” Tracy said with a reassuring smile.

  Ike shot her an incredulous look. “The hell it will. It’ll be worse than waiting for the play-offs to end when you haven’t made the cut. You just want them to freaking award the Cup already, so you can start thinking about the next season. This...” He clenched his jaw against the urge to yell. “This will be pure torture.”

  And he’d suffer alone. He couldn’t hang with the team. Though, truthfully, he wasn’t sure he wanted to. It’d be the worst kind of torment—being around the guys but not able to practice or do anything to help the team. Having to wear a suit and sit in the press-box for every home game—man, he hadn’t done that since his rookie year. Nah—better to stay away altogether until he had the green light to skate.

  “All you can do is take it one day at a time.”

  “I don’t have a choice, do I?”

  “No. Sorry.”

  Ike slumped back against the pillows. “At least if I was a horse, they’d shoot me to put me out of my misery.”

  “For heaven’s sake.” Tracy rolled her eyes. “It’s not the end of the world.”

  “Isn’t it?”

  “You act like you’ve been told you can’t ever play again. Think of those poor blokes who suddenly develop medical conditions—like heart irregularities and strokes—that are career-ending. Your injury isn’t even season-ending.”

  Her lecturing tone brought out her English accent. It made him feel like a petulant child.

  It also made him hot.

  Not that he could do anything about that right now. Instantly, his brain filled with images of how they could take advantage of the bed without jarring his arm. It would require a little athleticism on Tracy’s part. If she climbed up and positioned herself...

  Stop! What was wrong with him?

  He shifted, hoping she wouldn’t notice his distraction. “I’ll be fine once I can get out of this bed. Even better once they let me go home. At least I don’t have to wait on Physio to sign my discharge papers.”

  “Can I do anything to help?”

  His mind zipped back to the fantasy he’d had only moments ago.
Crap. That wasn’t what he needed to be thinking about. Embarrassed by his one-track mind, he replied more harshly than he intended. “What do you mean, ‘help’?”

  “I don’t know. Anything you need doing for you at home? Whatever will make life easier while you’re not able to do much for yourself.”

  “You’re kidding,” he snapped. Her offer scraped his already sore ego. He hated feeling helpless. Useless. That’s all he needed—Miss Freaking Superwoman feeling sorry for him and treating him like an invalid. “I’ve been in hospital less than twenty-four hours and you’re already touting for business.”

  Tracy reared back as if he’d hit her. “That wasn’t what I meant at all.”

  “Yeah, right. I know you—Making Your Move is all you think about. Well, I’m not going to be a guinea pig for your new services. You’ll have to find some other way to get the Ice Cats interested.”

  “Where the hell did that come from? I never mentioned my company or my services.” Tracy pushed the chair back and stood. Hurt darkened her eyes. “I was trying to be friendly. I should have known better.”

  Ike knew he’d made a big mistake, but couldn’t bring himself to back down. “Come on, you’re not telling me you wouldn’t have offered me a special discount?”

  “Actually, I’d have helped you for free.” Her tone was icy. “I’d have done whatever you needed out of the goodness of my heart.”

  Way to go, numb-nuts. What’s your next trick?

  He opened his mouth to apologize, but she held up her hand to stop him.

  Tracy stalked to the door. She reached for the knob, but instead of turning it, she marched back to the bed. She then took a glossy brochure out of her purse and slapped it down on the bedside table. “I might as well get hung for a sheep as a lamb. Should you require any assistance during your recovery, this is a list of the services Helping Hands provides. Feel free to call and make an appointment and I’ll see if I can fit you in.” Her lips twisted. “Assuming I’d even accept you as a client. One of the perks of being the boss is that I get to choose who I work for.”