Page 32 of Top Shelf
“You can come over all you want. I’ll take care of my boys.” She gave Colton a pat on the cheek. “Tell everyone to come get something to eat and keep Ferris company.”
Well. Cue my latest nightmare. Recovering in a small apartment with my mom, my auntie, and all the frat boys using the place like a revolving door to get hugs and samosas.
There would be no peace.
“This room seems awfully full,” came a voice from the doorway. A nurse appeared. “You need to let my patient get rest.”
Matty leaned over and tapped his fist against mine, and Colton did the same. “Catch you later, yo.”
Colton ruffled my hair, and then they both leaned in to hug my mom before heading out. When the door was shut, the nurse walked over and smiled down at me.
“Hurting?”
“Mm.”
“It’s time for your next dose. This should knock you right out until you see your surgeon. Sound good?”
Normally, I would have been shit-scared of being drugged unconscious, but after the night I’d had and the rest of the chaos I was facing, I was ready for it. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome, sweetheart.” She twisted the cap off a plunger, and the next thing I knew, my veins were burning, and I could smell something odd in my nose. And then the warmth. And the heaviness.
A bit more of an itch, but in that moment, I didn’t care.
“She’s a nice girl,” my mom said.
I was floating and fading. “I don’t like girls.”
She petted my hair. “I know, beta. But just in case you change your mind…”
“Already met…the man of my dreams. So pretty. Pretty eyes. Pretty smile.”
“Who is he?”
I wanted to recite poetry about the way he kissed, and touched me, and held me after, but my tongue was too thick. Thank god for that, because if she’d known what I’d done—and who I’d done it with—there would be hell for Quinn to pay.
But the drugs were working.
And I was slipping off to the memory of the only time I was truly happy in a long, long while.
Chapter Ten
Quinn
Things I’d expectedto happen after I was hired on full-time as a physical therapist: my schedule being obnoxiously full of both pro and non-pro athletes. Things I did not expect: my schedule being full of doe-eyed children, most of whom were on peewee hockey teams with thirsty moms who wanted to see if it was true that a former NHL player was now working at the office.
The kids were amazing.
Everyone else was…less than amazing.
But it was distracting, at the very least. It was a good job, and I was good at it, considering how many years I’d spent under the harsh but tender loving care of my own therapist. She was the sole reason I could walk again. She was the sole reason I didn’t give up on literally everything. It had been a close call for a while, especially because although the team is your family, when you get booted out, they tend to, you know. Forget you.
A little, at first.
And then a lot.
I got a few DMs after the photoshoot since it was the first time I’d shown my face in public after the string of interviews I’d done before officially retiring. But they were nothing more than,“hey, glad to see you’re doing well,” or, “hey, glad to see you’re still hot.”
A couple of them asked if I’d ever gotten on the ice again—which yes. I had. I couldn’t skate well. At least, not compared to the way I could before the accident, but I realized that ice was always going to make up a good part of my blood.
