Page 71 of Pucking the Team
Neither of them spoke. The music video switched to Whitney Houston, ‘I Will Always Love You,’ fromThe Bodyguard. “I like this movie, too.” I was keen to move the conversation on.
“Haven’t seen it,” Theo said.
“What? We must, at some point. It’s epic.”
“If you want to, we will.” Theo drew my hand to his mouth and kissed the pale underside of my wrist.
“You need to tell her,” Ben said suddenly.
I hitched in a breath. I had the growing sense that whatever was going on with Theo was a big deal.
Theo didn’t speak; instead, he placed my hand down and stood. He went to the window, pulled back the drapes, and stared out at the quiet street.
“He doesn’t have to,” I said. “Really, you don’t, Theo.”
“I want to.” Theo didn’t turn.
A silence stretched between us.
“Is it…is it something to do with your tattoos?” I asked. “You said the other day that you’d both had matching hockey stick tats after…something. That it was a brother thing.”
Ben rubbed his hand over his t-shirt, where his ink was.
Theo dropped the curtain back into place and turned to me. “Yeah, that’s right.” He looked at Ben.
“You want me to tell her?” Ben asked.
“No.”
I swallowed. My mouth had dried, and my heart rate was galloping along. Perhaps I should have Googled them, then I wouldn’t feel so out of the loop.
“I was sick, a few years back,” Theo said. He took a sip of water and sat on the table, right in front of me, his knees almost touching mine. “Really sick. I didn’t think…I…fuck.” He closed his eyes. “It was all over the media, certainly in Toronto and the hockey sites.”
He was so big and healthy and strong that it was hard to imagine he had beenreallysick. I reached for his hands. “But you’re better now?”
He opened his eyes. “That’s what today was about. I’ve been at the hospital being prodded and poked. I get regular checkups.”
“What was wrong?” I asked. “Or would you rather not say?”
“Leukemia,” Ben said. Clearly it was a hard word for his brother to utter. “A real nasty type.”
“Shit.” My throat constricted, and my pulse thudded in my temples. “I’m sorry, that must have been hard. Awful.”
“It was,” Ben spoke again. “You wouldn’t have recognized him. The chemo was a son of a bitch, and his hair, it all fell out, and the weight he lost, it was—”
“That’ll do,” Theo said with a frown.
“Sorry, bro.” Ben stood. “I need another beer. Anyone want anything?”
“No, I’m good, thanks.” I shook my head.
Theo said nothing, just stared into my eyes.
Ben went from the room.
“I’m so sorry you went through that, I can’t begin to imagine how horrendous that experience must have been,” I said, stroking my thumb over the top of his. “And you were in Canada, yes?”
“Yeah, I was seventeen, playing in Toronto. We both were.”
