Page 130 of Forever Wild
The lump in my throat grows until I’m not sure I can speak or breathe. I let his teammates and Coach console him. I watch from a distance as they hug him and offer words of sympathy and hope.
Jack’s mask is in place, but I know as soon as he stops trying to be everything for everyone else, he’s going to need to deal with this.
And I don’t just mean the stroke. He and his dad have a rocky relationship. Jack’s never mentioned it, but I can feel the tension there. Maybe it’s because of his dad’s drinking, but I get the sense that it goes way beyond that.
As everyone starts to leave, they come by and hug me too, each one telling me to call or text if we need anything. I guess they know it’s highly unlikely that Jack will.
When they’re gone, I go to him. I wrap myself around his middle and breathe him in. I know I’m supposed to be comforting him, but there’s something reassuring about being in his arms.
“I’m sorry.” It isn’t the first or even the second time I’ve said it, but I look up at him and will the words to convey just how deeply I feel them. “Is there anything I can do?”
“Yeah.” His hand cups the back of my head. “You’re doing it by being here.”
“Of course. I’ll stay as long as you want.”
He drops his mouth to mine and kisses me gently. “Thank you for offering, but there won’t be a lot to do and I know you need to get back to Briar Lake.”
“I can take time off. It’s no big deal.”
“No. Don’t do that. There’s nothing to do here but wait. Take my car. I’ll get a ride home from one of the guys.”
I bite at the corner of my lip as I consider what to do. Is he pulling his usual, I don’t need anyone’s help bullshit or is he just being pragmatic?
“I don’t want to go,” I say. “Even if there’s nothing to do. Heather will understand and honestly if she doesn’t…” I shrug.
“Ev.” His voice breaks on my name.
“I’m not going anywhere except maybe to get food and clothes. Do you want me to bring you anything back?”
He looks like he wants to argue, but then he hugs me back to his chest. “You’re stubborn and incredible.”
“And yours,” I remind him.
When he pulls back, he runs a hand through his hair. “I’ll come with you.”
“Are you sure?”
He nods. “I can’t get in to see him for another hour anyway.”
“Okay.”
We swing by his place to eat, shower, and finally change out of our travel clothes. Vacation feels like a lifetime ago. He grabs clothes, toiletries, and his laptop so he can stay at the hospital while his dad recovers.
On the ride back, he takes my hand but stays quiet while he drives. He’s able to go back and see his dad for a few minutes, but when he returns, he looks more upset than before. Maybe the seriousness of the situation is sinking in.
“How is he?” I ask.
“The doctors say he’s doing well, all things considered, but the stroke messed up his speech so communicating with him is difficult.” He buries his head in his hands and mutters, “Fuck.”
I drape an arm around his shoulders and rub soothing circles, wishing I could do so much more. I can’t seem to find the words. Am I supposed to be hopeful and spew positivity or offer my sympathy? Neither feels right so I stay quiet and hope my presence is as comforting to him as his is to me.
“I’m so mad at him.” He sits up. His eyes are red but I haven’tseen him cry. “I need him to be okay so I can tell him how mad I am. I guess I shouldn’t be surprised, I mean he’s been a drunk most my life. That kind of lifestyle doesn’t lead to a long, healthy life.”
My heart squeezes. Whether he says it or not, I know he feels responsible for his dad.
“You love him, and he loves you.”
“Do you know he has never watched me play professional hockey?”
