Page 46 of Game Winner
Emotion clogs my throat. I manage a nod and hold his hand as tight as I dare.
Seated on a desk chair Phil dragged in, Quinn folds his slice of plain pizza in half. “What did the doctor tell you about the break?”
“It’s aligned, I don’t need surgery, and there aren’t any soft tissue injuries, which is lucky. He said that’s what slows down recovery.”
Bax gives my leg a squeeze in support. “That’s good news.”
Remy selects a slice loaded with olives and mushrooms. “Did he give you an ETA on when you’d be back with us?”
“Right now, the best-case scenario is returning to play in eight weeks, which gets me back in time for the first round of the playoffs. The doctor thinks twelve weeks is more realistic. That puts my return in late May. In time for the conference finals, if the team is still in the playoffs.”
Of course, there’s always a chance that the team could be knocked out of the playoffs in an earlier round. The Metros are good, but even teams that have led the league all season have been knocked out of the playoffs in the first round. Plus, there’s still a month and a half to go before the playoffs. Plenty of time for injuries to rear up and take out top players.
Quinn snags another piece of pizza from the box Remy tips his way. “We’ll do our best to hang in there so you can join us.”
More things the doctor said come to mind. Issues with recovery, setbacks, lingering symptoms. “I better be there. I can’t stand being off the ice. If recovery takes longer than twelve weeks… then it interferes with offseason training, which messes up being ready fornextseason.” I drop my slice. I can’t eat right now.
Bax rubs circles on my back. “Let’s take this a day at a time, okay? Think about what you need help with this week. Don’t jump too far ahead.”
“Getting dressed and undressed, figuring out easy food options, showering… The doctor said that with most activities, I’ll have to make adjustments or ask for help. And apparently, sleeping with this is really uncomfortable.” Hopelessness closes over me, stealing my breath and drowning me.
The pressure of Bax’s hand on my back and Soren’s on my thigh is like a life preserver, and I cling to it.
“Slow, deep breaths,” Sage advises. “Inhale for four counts, hold it for eight, then exhale for four.”
Closing my eyes, I do what he says. Draw in the breath, hold, then let go. The music shifts to a soothing instrumental I’veheard drifting from his apartment, one of his calming playlists. Opening my eyes, I focus on what’s right in front of me, the faces who cared enough to show up here so late when all of them have to be exhausted. Inhale, hold, let it go. The panicked pressure recedes.
“The injury sucks, but we’ll help you get through it.” Soren’s tone is as warming as sipping a snifter of brandy in front of a fire on a snowy night.
“Damn right we will.” Bax caresses the crease between my brows, and the muscles in my face relax.
Gio tosses his crust onto the box lid and brushes his hands off on his sweats. “Sounds like you need a sous chef, a personal dresser, and a driver.”
Soren’s hand jolts up. “I volunteer to get you into and out of all clothes.”
“Same here.” Bax raises his hand. Both of them grinning like fools. Adorable, sweet fools. “I’ll be your driver. And help you shower.”
“I’ll cook for you!” Remy jumps up and runs into the kitchen, returning with a pen and a pad of paper.
A discussion of menus and meal prep breaks out as my housemates assign themselves to different days of the week. Rhys and Quinn both offer to cover takeout for the house one day a week, Maxim promises to send me croissants from his favorite bakery, and Jonas offers to get me a laundry service that provides pickup and drop-off.
All of my remaining tension releases. Feeling overwhelmed in the best way, I sit and stare at everyone with their phones out, making notes in their calendars. “Guys, this is really fucking nice of you.”
Gio looks up. “You’d do it for us.”
“I would.” Without question.
Soren frowns at his screen. “Both teams are on road trips at the end of this week into next week. The Metros leave on the fifth and are back on the ninth. And the Slash are gone the fifth through fifteenth. So that’s four days where no one will be here to help Tyler.”
Thumbs fly as Bax types something into his phone. “I can take vacation time and stay with him.”
I turn so I’m looking directly at him. Everyone pitching in is one thing, but using vacation days he may need for a gig or something, is more than necessary. “You don’t have to do that. I’ll manage.”
“I want to do it.” He holds up his phone, showing a calendar of some sort. “Already done. The fifth through the ninth. It’s on the work calendar.”
My eyes fall shut with relief, and I nod, unable to say anything. I’m glad he’s insisting because I’m worried about fending for myself so soon.
Gio swipes through to next month. “There’s another stretch in April where both teams have away games. The seventh through the twelfth for the Slash and the ninth through thirteenth for the Metros.”
