Page 191 of Gloves Off

“I’ll give you two a minute.” She presses a gentle kiss to my forehead. “I’m going to talk to the nurses and get him some food.”

He nods at her as she leaves before he takes a seat in the chair beside my hospital bed. “How are you feeling?”

“Like shit.”

“I bet.” His mouth flattens and he glances away. I wonder if he’s thinking about his career-ending injury. I wonder if he’s thinking this is the end for me, too.

Here we go. “I want to talk to you about retirement.”

He shakes his head. “We don’t need to talk about this now, Volkov. I just wanted to check on you, and let you know we’re all thinking about you.”

I think about the guys and how tonight was probably the last time I hit the ice with them, and my heart aches.

It’s right, though. I’m ready for the next phase, both in my career and with Georgia.

“I do want to talk about this now. I’ve made a decision.”

He takes a seat, expression turning amused and wry. “You’ve made a major decision on your career hours after a head injury?”

I laugh, then wince. “Yes. But this has been a long time coming.”

“You’re going to be out for a while,” he says. “You’ve got time to think and see how you recover.”

“My decision is final. I’m ready. It’s time.”

He makes a thoughtful noise. “What changed your mind?”

“Seeing the rookie grow and succeed has been the most rewarding part of this season for me.”

He waits. I glance at the empty doorway that my wife walked through moments ago. I can hear her talking to the nurses in the hall, the musical sound of her voice filtering in and making my heart rate monitor blip. Ward’s gaze cuts to the screen and he smiles.

“But mostly, Georgia,” I say, simply. “She’s everything to me.”

He sighs “Yeah. I know how that is.”

“Your daughter?”

He nods, smiling. “Watching you and Walker work together has been something else.”

“I see why you had your eye on him this season.”

Ward gives me a curious look.

“You always pick a guy,” I explain. “Streicher, Miller, then Owens. This season, it was the rookie.”

Amusement glints in his eyes. “You think Walker was my guy?”

Something about his expression tells me I’m off. “Wasn’t he?”

Ward’s mouth twists into a smirk. “No, Volkov. Walker wasn’t my guy. You were.”

I stare at him, not following. Must be the head injury making things cloudy.

“What’s the plan from here, then?” he asks.

“Nothing.”

My future is a blank slate, and three months ago, that would have fucking killed me, but with Georgia, the possibilities are endless. Maybe I’ll convince her to take a vacation. Maybe we’ll have a real wedding. Maybe I’ll volunteer more with the hospital program. Maybe I’ll just help clean up pylons at her soccer practice.

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