Page 109 of Love Lessons
“Is there anything at all we can do for you?” O’Doul asks.
Davis shakes his head. “I’m getting aggressive care at Dana Farber in Boston. My team has been great. I’d rather be playing hockey, but it is what it is.”
“If you think of anything…” Ian says.
Davis grins suddenly. “I s’pose you could foul half the team tonight and spend a lot of time in the penalty box. If you’re feeling generous.”
Ian finally laughs. “Sure, man. I’ll get right on that.”
They talk for a few more minutes. Ian asks some questions about his treatment. There’s another round of hand shaking and well-wishing, and then Davis leaves the room with his girlfriend and his PR guy.
The door closes, and we all just sit still for a moment in silence.
“Jesus fuck,” Doulie says. “That shitshow wasn’t even your fault. After all that.”
Ian gets up and crosses the room. “Shit. Who even cares? That kid hascancer.”
I’m still trying to follow along when Ian moves his body with sudden violence. A plastic wastebasket goes flying, hitting the opposite wall with a deafening bang.
“Whoa, now,” O’Doul says, already on his feet. He wraps Ian into a bear hug. “Keep it together, man.”
Ian flexes, making fists, like he’s going to shake Patrick off. But then his shoulders droop, and I hear him take a shaky breath. “I don’t feel better.”
“I noticed.” O’Doul chuckles. “Take a minute.” He lets go of Ian and heads for the door.
The publicist sets the wastebasket upright and follows him out, too.
That leaves me and Ian alone. He looks as tense as I’ve ever seen him, but I don’t hesitate to cross to him, leaning in as he folds me into his embrace. “I’m sorry,” I say.
“Me too.” He takes a deep breath.
“He might be okay.”
“He’d better be.” His arms tighten around me. “That’s not what I was expecting.”
“Life never is,” I point out. “Not lately.”
He kisses my jaw. “Hell, I have to get downstairs. I’m supposed to play a game now. After that?” His chuckle is dry. “Hey—you ready for tonight?”
“So ready. It kind of makes tonight’s special event even more special, doesn’t it?”
“Yup.” He cups my jaw and kisses me on the mouth. “You make it special, too.”
I get one more kiss before we have to get ready for the game.
* * *
Two hours later,I’m seated in Row A just to the side of the penalty box. These are the captain’s comp seats—the best in the house.
“This crowd is crazy,” Charli says, looking around. “For a preseason scrimmage. Hell. Good seats to my games are a little easier to come by.” She offers me the popcorn.
“You’re wrong—front row seats to your first game weren’t even available,” I tell her. The women’s season starts a few weeks from now. “I had to buy in row F.”
“Okay, here we go!” she says suddenly. “Warmups are over.”
I glance at the ice to see the Bruisers headed back into their tunnel, and my pulse rate moves into a higher gear.
A few minutes ago, the team skated their warmup in plain white jerseys. That’s not how it’s usually done, but tonight is a special occasion. The players will be skating in breast cancer awareness jerseys that will be auctioned off after the game.
