Page 57 of Your Sharpest Edge
“The doctors aren’t sure what’s wrong, but they did surgery to help fix the nerves and fuse them back together.”
“My nerves don’t work?”
He shook his head. “There’s been a lot of lingo going back and forth, and truthfully, I don’t understand all of it, but the short of it is that when he hurt your legs, he really damaged the nerves that connect to the rest of your body. The doctors think you’ll be able to gain movement in them after the surgery, but it’ll be a long process.”
“I’m . . . temporarily paralyzed?”
Alex closed his eyes. “Yes, from the knees down at least until you can get the nerves to work again.”
“What if they never regain movement?” Hot tears pricked my cheek.
He reached up, gently caressing each tear as if he was absorbing my pain.
“They will,” he whispered.
“My mom? Damien?” I asked.
Everything bubbled in my chest. I was losing everything I ever had in moments.
“They’re coming in a little bit. Your mom’s visa was extended, so she’ll be able to stay with you for a few more months to help you with your therapy and be a caregiver for Damien.”
“How is he?” I croaked out.
“He’s growing up. He smiles now. He’d come to visit every few days, and I’d put him in your arms, and he’d sit there with you as we talked to you and told you stories.”
I leaned over, my eyes looking into his and let his words really sink in. “Y-You were here the...entire time?”
His hands never left my face, and the wetness on my cheeks only seemed to increase. His presence, his unwavering support, had been my anchor even when I was adrift in unconsciousness. Life had worn him down—the dark circles under his eyes and the exhaustion etched into his features were clear signs—but there was also a fierce determination, a protective strength that kept him by my side.
“I couldn’t leave you,” he said softly, his thumb gently wiping away my tears. “Not for a moment. We all needed you to wake up, and I needed to be here when you did.”
I blinked a few times, not sure of how to respond or process what I was feeling. All I knew was it felt consuming—everything was consuming me and threatened to swallow me whole and bring me to the place where I needed to go.
“You have hockey? You’re in the middle of the season,” I said, swallowing down the guilt.
“No. My agent allowed me a reprieve for a month to help you. I go back in a week...” He cleared his throat. “But I can stay while you get back on your feet. I can help you, take off this season?—”
“No.” I interrupted him. “You cannot.”
The guilt that all this was my fault clawed at me, begging to consume me again. I swallowed, trying to push it down.
“I can.” He insisted, his voice filled with assurance.
For a moment, I almost believed him, but it was far from the truth. He’d never play again if he took off the entire season.
“You can’t.” I closed my eyes for a moment before opening them again. “Dimitri?” I asked, both out of curiosity and a desire to shift the topic.
Alex’s expression darkened slightly. “He’s gone. The police have him, and he’s not coming near you or Damien again.”
A wave of relief washed over me, but the guilt still lingered. Alex had already done so much, and the thought of him sacrificing his career for me was unbearable.
“Thank you,” I whispered, the weight of everything pressing down on me. “If I never walk again, how will I raise Damien?” I asked, feeling the darkness creep closer to my body.
Dimitri had always planned to get me alone and then leave me. But when I was the one who ended things, it triggered something, and he became enraged. If I had never told him I was leaving, I wouldn’t be in this position now. I wouldn’t be struggling to care for my infant or fighting for my life in this hospital room.
“This is all my fault.” I hiccupped. “I won’t be able to afford to live without him. I can’t skate again. I can’t work.”
“If you can walk, then maybe you can?—”
