Page 103 of Hockey Bois
“That we didn’t… that I…” Brady couldn’t force the words out, but his embarrassment sparked the hint of a memory: of a shared bedroom, a miserable night alone despite the company, and an awkwardness between them that’d taken a long time to settle.
“Oh,that.” Nick waved his hand dismissively. “Nah. I was like, sad. But why would I be mad? You don’t want me. You’re allowed that.”
Brady looked absolutely crestfallen, and Nick backtracked to try and figure out what he’d said to hurt him. He couldn’t remember a damn word of it, though, so he asked, “Shit, what’d I do wrong?”
Luck was on Brady’s side: the receptionist called them in to see the doctor, saving him from having to answer.
They were tended to by two different doctors, though in the same exam room. Nick found this strange, but because he couldn’t answer a single one of their questions about his injury, he supposed it helped that Brady was there to help. Nick stared into a flashlight, recited facts, and promised wholeheartedly that he felt mostly okay.
“What does ‘mostly okay’ mean?” the doctor asked patiently as she wrote on a clipboard. “Headache? Nausea? Dizziness? Ringing sound? Tired?”
Nick nodded. “Tired.”
“No throwing up, walks kinda funny, was falling asleep before, keeps asking the same questions,” Brady supplied. Nick leaned over to look around his doctor to where Brady’s hand was being wrapped in gauze. Brady waved at him with his good hand. Nick grinned and waved back.
“All of that’s to be expected, and no vomiting is a good sign. He’ll need rest and should take time off work if possible. Limited screen time, dim lights, lots of fluids, aspirin if he gets a headache. No heavy physical activity until he’s seen his primary care physician and gotten the go-ahead from them. If he gets worse, you take him to the ER immediately.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Are you staying with your boyfriend tonight?”
“He’s not my—” Nick started.
“I can if I have to,” Brady interrupted evenly, even if his cheeks did seem a little flushed. “Someone will be with him.”
“Good. Wake him up every few hours to make sure he’s okay and hasn’t vomited in his sleep. He hasn’t been complaining of nausea, though, so that’s not too likely. Let me find our printout on concussions for reference, and the printout for his visit…”
Nick wandered in and out of consciousness. His autopilot must’ve been getting better,becausehe hadn’t fallen or run into anything, and even when he lost track of how he’d gotten to a given moment in time, he could backtrack enough to see it was the logical outcome of the events leading up to it.
When he found himself back in the reception area, he didn’t question it.
“I should get you home.” Brady sounded particularly surly and tired. Nick worried what he’d said or done, and then scolded himself because he was supposed to not care.
Brady patted his pockets and dug around until he pulled out Nick’s phone.
“That’s my phone! Where’d you get that?”
“Your hockey bag. Over an hour ago.” He paused as he looked at the screen. “You added a passcode,” he said with surprised frustration.
Nick nodded.
Brady waited a moment before asking, “And what is it…?”
“Backstrom Carlson.”
“…what does that evenmean?”
“Look it up.”
Brady looked like he wanted to punch the wall and bust up his other hand. “Backstrom’s number nineteen?” Brady asked. It clearly brought him real pain to admit he knew that. “What’s Carlson’s number?”
“Seventy-four. Like America.” He saw Brady’s confusion. “July 4th? Seven-four?”
“You know what, whatever.” Brady typed in the code, mouthing the numbers “nineteen” and “seventy-four” as he did so. “Who should I contact to help take care of you? Family, friend, uh… significant other—?” He frowned at the screen. “Oh, you already have a message from someone named Jenna May asking how you’re doing and if she should come over.”
Nick nodded solemnly. “Tell her I need all the help.”
“Uhh, yeah sure.” Brady dutifully typed. He’d nearly pocketed the phone when it started ringing, and he winced when he saw who it was. “Hello?” he asked as he answered.
