Page 99 of Nodus Tollens
When the game had finally resumed, I couldn’t force myself to watch any further. I could already feel Coach’s eyes on me, along with all my other teammates. Most likely wondering what the hell happened. It wasn’t hard to sense that my interest in the game was fading, but this was the first time I had actually made it known. Though fighting was a hockey tradition, for me, it was something I avoided. Even when I was knocked on my ass, I always remained discreet with my emotions. I never let it get the best of me.
But that was until my dad’s diagnosis. Until Blue came along. Now, the sport I once loved seemed more like a hassle than anything. A distraction from what really mattered in life. When I could be spending time with the people I adore and love, I’m stuck here, wallowing in my pain and fear.
With my head hung low, I barely hear the sound of a whistle being blown. It’s faint. Almost nonexistent in my current state of mind, but what I do hear is the clear sound of banging on the glass in front of me. My head gradually lifted. What I found was a pissed-off Mal mouthing ‘What the fuck?’. Grunting, I tried my best to ignore his presence, but it was nearly impossible when the bastard was big enough to block out my entire view of the rink. He was wide and tall, built like a truck, but in his gear, he was even more menacing.
“What?” I grumbled, knowing he wouldn’t hear me but could read my lips. His dark brows dipped in annoyance. His anger was practically seeping through the cracks and corners of this penalty box. He straightened his stance with a deep scowl etched on his face.
Our eyes never wavered. A clash of intensity swept through the both of us. After our many years of friendship and practically growing up with Mal, it was easy to read him. Over time, I memorized Mal’s many looks. To most, there wasn’t much of a difference in the expressions he showed, but to me, it became like second nature to pinpoint them accurately. For instance, now it was obvious he was pissed off. Reddened skin, that throbbing vein in his forehead that always appeared when he was irate. There was no doubt in my mind that he was aggravated by my actions, but there was also something lingering in his stare and clenched jaw that most wouldn’t notice. Most people wouldn’t catch his dilated pupils or the way his chest was heaving unnaturally. Mal may have been a man who expressed little to no emotions at all, but it was plain to see he was worried.
Nervous.
Then, finally, with a dramatic shake of his head, he skated off. A deep sigh escaped from the confines of my chest when he finally disappeared. I wasn’t ready to confront him just yet. Not about Blue. Not about life. I wasn’t ready to dive into the concerns of the future. If anything, avoiding serious conversations with him would be the best solution. Not that I didn’t want him to know, but I don’t think I’m ready to admit to him that I’m in love with someone who is dying. That I want to give her everything in this world and more, and to do that, I need to quit hockey. The sport that bonded Mal and I.
I mean, how would he even respond to that? No way would he understand or even try to grasp where I was coming from. Hockey was all that he had, and as much as I hoped that one day he would find someone more precious and important in his life than being on the ice, I knew he wouldn’t understand. Not now anyway, but maybe in the future, when he could finally see that there was more to life and more to gain from exposing yourself to more. I knew there was no way he’d ever leave the game that practically saved him during his childhood. There was a zero percent chance of getting him off the ice, and although I couldn’t reciprocate those feelings, I respected it. I respected his love, talent, and persistence, and I knew he was going to go places and have great opportunities to grow.
And he deserved it.
Despite the shit mood I was currently in, I could still recognize that.
I leaned my head back, and when I closed my eyes, Wren’s face flashed behind my eyelids.
* * *
Wren POV
Iwas running late.
Over an hour into his game, and I still wasn’t there. Despite letting him know about my appointment, I still couldn’t stop myself from texting him. Once I arrived, I shot off a quick text, knowing he was most likely warming up.
Me: Hey, just wanted to let you know I made it. Hopefully, it won’t take too long. I’ll try to be there as soon as I can, good luck! Xoxo
When thirty minutes had passed, I was lying on a hospital bed connected to an ECG monitor. Dr. Adams had to step out briefly, so while he had been gone, I sent Hayes another text.
Me: Hey again, I’m still at the doctors. Hoping I’ll get to leave soon…I miss you.
God, I really did miss him.
So much.
I contemplated rescheduling the appointment so I could cheer him on at his game, but Hayes refused, telling me my health was much more important than his hockey game. I argued back, of course, knowing beforehand that my appointment would go like the others. That there was nothing new to report, and my heart was working like it should. I wanted to be there for him. I wanted to support him in every adventure and obstacle he took on, and I wanted to be the smiling face on the sidelines that cheered him on.
I wanted to be that girlfriend. The one who wore his jersey. The one who cheered louder and harder than any other fan out there. The one he grinned at while every other girl in the stands wished it was them. I wanted normal. Hayes deserved normal, but instead, he was given complicated. He was given uncertainty when he should have been given confidence. He should just know that I’d always be there for him. That whenever he needed me, I’d be there.
There should never be any doubts about whether I would be at one of his games or with anything in life. He should always just know. But in this case, that wasn’t us.
Would never be us because there would always be something in the way of true happiness. The future should be something to be anxious and excited about. Instead, it was something I dreaded.
I wasn’t afraid of dying. I was afraid of losing Hayes. Losing that connection and knowing that I would never see him again. But more so, I worried about him. How it would affect his life and if I was truly doing the right thing. What if I was making things worse, subjecting him to a life of pain and sorrow? What if he never loved again? I’d be selfish to say I didn’t want him to move on, but Hayes was a man filled with so much love, and for him to not give it to someone else would be a crime. Questions like those were a daily occurrence in my head, especially in moments when I was alone with my thoughts.
So, when Dr. Adams finally stepped back into the room, I had to wipe away the fresh stream of tears coating my cheeks and switch back into patient mode. He resumed the echo, noting something along the way as he studied the nooks and crannies of my heart. Another half hour had passed before he was finally finished.
“Everything looked good,” Dr. Adams told me after I had redressed and sat in a chair in the examining room. A huge relief for me, even more so now that I had a reason to live.
A reason to continue.
He wanted me to come back in another month, and like always, I smiled and thanked him. Once he had left the room, I took my phone back out to see no new messages. Not that I was expecting one anyway, but a part of me wished I had something from Hayes.
Me: I’m leaving now! Finally! Everything went well. Doctor says my heart looks fine, so I’ll be there as soon as I can.
