Playing to Win(23)

He understood that his parents couldn't bring themselves to dash the  hopes of their little boy. And that meant that Luke would have to raise  the possibility.

Stalling, he anchored a hand on each of the waist-high bars. He pushed  up until his feet left the floor and his arms were straight. Then he  launched into a quick round of tricep dips, pounding them out until his  arms started to burn a little.

The clank of weights dropping let Luke know that he had an audience. He  swung his feet back and forth a few times before dropping to the  ground.

"What do you want, Luke?"

"I was hoping if my boys win this afternoon, that maybe you could  attend the sledge hockey state championships with the team for me. If  our series against Montana goes well, I'll be out of town."

Ethan was shaking his head before Luke had even finished speaking. "I can't. I'm training."

"You're always training, E."

"If I can't walk, I can't skate. I need to keep working. I can't afford to lose focus now."

Luke watched as Ethan pulled the pin and raised the knee pad on the lat  machine. Slowly, carefully, he pushed himself into a standing position.  He waited a moment, hand on the machine, to make sure he was stable.  Then he backed up a step, then another, then another.

"No one's more determined than you. I know that better than anyone."

It was all Luke could do not to rush over and help him, to push the  wheelchair closer, to swear at the injustice that had left this young,  virile kid with the walking skills of a decrepit eighty-year-old man.

But he didn't.

Ethan made it, slowly but surely, back to his chair.

"You might be four years younger than me, Ethan, but you've always been  right on my heels. Anything I ever did, you did faster and better,  including hockey. And I know you miss it. But it's been three years  since the accident. Three intense years, and you've been training  nonstop."

Now Ethan did look up at him, and Luke could read betrayal in his  brother's eyes. "You don't think I can do it? You don't believe I'll  skate again?"

"I have no doubt that you will accomplish all kinds of great things in  your lifetime, Ethan. You've always done anything you put your mind to.  But I'm wondering at what price. As powerful as your single-minded focus  is... We're just worried about you, little brother. Mom, Dad, me.  You're in here for hours every day. You're only twenty-two years old. I  don't want life to pass you by."

Ethan's laugh was bitter. "And what kind of life do you think is  passing me by, Luke? I spent a whole year barely able to take a piss by  myself. People have to open the door for me. I can't drive. I can barely  reach the damn stove. Physio is the only thing that makes me feel even  halfway normal. Working out is the only thing that's helped me get  better."

His voice broke. Ethan swiped at his cheek, erasing any sign of  weakness. "And I fought through it. I fought through the pain and I won.  I went from not being able to stand, to being able to walk five steps  and then ten. It's measurable. I can see myself improving and I need  that. Because that's what's going to make my life better."                       
       
           


       

Ethan shook his head. "That hit took everything from me, Luke. It took  my body. It took my career. It took my dream. You can't understand what  that's like because you're still playing. You're in the goddamn  play-offs!"

"And I hate every minute of it! I can't concentrate, I can't score. Because I wish you were there instead of me."

"You want me to feel sorry for you? You want me to give up? Well, I  won't. I'll do whatever it takes to walk again." His brother said the  words like a vow.

"You're right," Luke said quietly. "This isn't about me. I want you to  walk again, Ethan. I do. But I also want you to have a life. To enjoy  yourself sometimes. To smile again."

"I'll smile when I can get rid of the chair and the crutches."

Luke scrubbed a hand down his face. "It's been three years."

His brother flinched like he'd punched him.

"Nobody wants to say it, but what if this is it, Ethan? What if this is as good as it gets?"

"Get out."

"C'mon, man. I just-"

"Stop treating me like I'm one of your damn charity cases, Luke. What  are you even doing out here? Jesus Christ! Don't you understand? If this  doesn't work out, I've got nothing!"

Luke shook his head at the injustice of that. "That's not true."

"Spare me the platitudes and get the fuck out."

With a sigh, Luke walked over to the door. He stepped outside and  pulled the door closed behind him, but he hesitated to walk away.

There was a long pause, but then he heard the clank of metal that meant  Ethan had resumed his workout. Luke headed back to the house.

He couldn't wait to find Holly and hit the road.

* * *

"YOU READY TO GO?"

Holly could tell something was on Luke's mind. He'd been distant since  he'd come back to the house. Reading the signs, she'd packed up her  suitcase and brought it down to the kitchen, anticipating his need for a  speedy exit after his shower. She glanced over to where he stood,  making jeans and a sledge hockey sweatshirt look good.

"Just about," she responded. "I wanted to say goodbye to Ethan before we go."

Luke tugged nervously at the brim of his black cap, and she could tell  he wasn't wild about the idea. Neither were his parents, if their  identical deer-in-headlights expressions were any indication. Little did  they know, that was exactly the reason she was doing it.

She grabbed the bag she'd purposely left out of her luggage and headed for the back door.

With a deep breath for courage, she walked down the lovingly crafted  wheelchair ramp and knocked on the garage door before stepping inside.

"Hi, Ethan. I hope I'm not intruding. My niece, Melissa, is your  biggest fan and when she found out I was coming here, she asked me to  see if you'd sign her jersey."

He'd looked pissed when she'd first walked in, but now there was only  surprise in his eyes as she pulled the Team USA jersey from the bag,  complete with "Maguire" and a big number ten on the back.

Ethan rolled his chair from the modified bicep curl machine he'd been  using and approached her. He hesitated before he took the marker she  held in his direction and even longer before he took the jersey itself.

"No idea why she'd want this," he muttered, scribbling his signature on the crest on the front.

"Are you kidding? You're her favorite player. Your goal in the gold medal game is what made her want to play hockey."

"That was a long time ago." Ethan clicked the lid back onto the Sharpie.

"Not so long," Holly countered. "People still remember. Just like they  remember the dirty, after-the-whistle hit that took it all away."

Ethan's head snapped up at her bluntness.

"What happened to you was awful, completely unfair. But you can't let  it define you. You can't spend your life focused on what you've lost."

"Did Luke put you up to this?"

Holly shook her head. "Nope. This is all me."

"You're going to walk into my house and tell me how to live my life?  Like I give a fuck what my brother's new girlfriend thinks of me?"                       
       
           


       

"Oh, I'm not Luke's girlfriend. We're just sleeping together."

The expression on Ethan's face was almost comical, but Holly didn't  pause to enjoy it. She had too much to say. "I'm just an outside  observer, a hockey lover, someone who was sitting with Melissa when you  scored that golden goal-one that will grace highlight reels for the rest  of time. I saw the way you inspired my niece to try something new and  the way your memory still inspires her to be the best at something that  she loves."

Holly took a seat on a nearby weight bench.

"Your family loves you. They want to help you through this. And they're  devastated every time you turn your back on their help."

"Leave my family out of this!"

Holly ignored him. "Luke's in the longest scoring drought of his  professional career. He's playing like shit in the play-offs and beating  himself up over it every single second. All because he feels like he's  letting you down. But he straps on those skates every day and tries to  do better, because he holds on to the hope that you might be watching.

"It kills him a little bit more with every game that you're not in the  stands to cheer him on, but he'd never tell you that. Just like he'd  never tell you that he's got a number ten sticker plastered to the  inside of his helmet."

Holly shook her head. Her eyes prickled with unshed tears, but they were for Luke, not for Ethan, so she didn't let them fall.