Page 28 of You Had Me at Hockey

I’m reliving the time around the accident. I don’t remember the first ambulance ride because of the concussion. I have only hazy memories of dark and light, voices and sounds at the first hospital I was taken to in Swift Current. I remember the sense of urgency in everyone around me, doctors and nurses, while I floated wearily, too tired to care or understand. Then they transported me to Regina, to a bigger hospital, and once I was more stable, to Winnipeg. I spent months in the hospital there as an inpatient and then more months going back nearly daily for outpatient therapy. I never want to set foot in a hospital again.

My stomach churns, my skin clammy. I curl my hands into fists and stare at the hospital doors.

Chapter 8

Josh

I have to do this. I can’t just abandon Sara in there. I take a few deep breaths. Then I swipe a hand across my sweaty forehead, square my shoulders, and stride into the ER.

They’ve already taken her back, which tells me how serious this is because the ER is full of people waiting. They won’t let me go back there at first, so I find a seat and slump there, holding my phone, staring sightlessly at the floor.

How the hell did this happen? I had the whole evening planned—nice dinner, then a short walk to the wine bar for a glass of wine and some piano music. I was too afraid to plan to take her back to my place, but the idea was definitely there. We were having a good time—at least I was. I think she was too. Now…Christ, she’ll never want to see me again after poisoning her like this.

I scrub my hands over my face and wait. And wait.

Finally, a woman comes and calls my name. My head snaps up and I jump to my feet. “You can come on back,” she says. “She’s doing better.”

“Thank God,” I mutter, hiking after her.

She shows me into a curtained cubicle. Sara’s in a bed, now wearing a hospital gown, hooked up to the IV and another machine. I push aside thoughts of her sheer black lace bra. She doesn’t look much better, but she reaches for my hand again as I get near enough. “You’re still here.”

“Yeah. Of course.” I won’t tell her I nearly puked on the sidewalk outside. My stomach still feels a little iffy.

“Good thing she got here quickly,” the nurse says. “But the adrenaline and steroids are working.”

“The steroids are making me feel weird,” Sara says. “I don’t like it.”

“It’ll pass. That’s normal.” The nurse is calm and reassuring. I admire her, since I’m freaking the fuck out inside.

“I’ll check back in a few minutes,” she says, leaving us alone.

“I can’t believe this,” Sara whispers. “I’m so sorry.”

“Don’t apologize! This isn’t your fault. I feel responsible.”

“It’s notyourfault. I should have been more careful. It’s been years since anything happened, I just avoid chickpeas all the time. I guess I got a little careless.”

“I feel like shit about this.”

“It’s okay.” Her fingers squeeze mine. “I’m okay. How do my lips look? I’ve been thinking about getting them done with Juvéderm.”

My lips twitch. She’s obviously feeling a little better. Also, she’s brave as hell. “Sexy,” I tell her.

She makes a noise like a snort.

“You don’t believe me?” I gently brush some hair back off her red face.

“Nope.”

“Do you need anything?”

“Some water?” She gestures at the plastic cup with a straw in it.

I grab it and hold it for her as she drinks.

“Thanks. Can you take a picture of me?”

“What?” I stare.

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