“Thank you.” I stand and latch Finn’s leash to his collar.
“Keep a close eye on him for the next couple of days. Call us if anything changes.”
“I will.” She leads us out of the office and Lizzie’s hand comforts my shoulder. “Thank you for coming with me,” I tell her.
“Of course. Anything for the Doyles.” We walk Finn to the reception desk. Across the room Alec stands, jogs to me.
“Is he okay?” I nod and Alec sighs a gigantic sigh. “I’m so glad.” Alec takes my hand, lifts it to his mouth, and kisses the skin below my knuckles. His lips are warm, soft, familiar. Lizzie clears her throat and Alec releases me, takes an apologetic step back.
“What was the matter with him?” Alec asks.
“They don’t know. Maybe spoiled food.”
“Yeah, like a half-dead squirrel served on the forest floor,” Lizzie says.
“That’s good though, right?” Alec sounds as relieved as I feel.
“It is. I feared way worse,” I say as the receptionist slides a multipage invoice in front of me. My eyes drop to the total: $1,075.17.
Shit. Mom gave me a check this morning, but told me not to spend over five hundred dollars out of this account.
“I’ve got it,” Alec says, snapping a silver Discover card onto the counter.
“What? Alec, no. That’s way too much.”
“I told you I’d help and I’m helping. I want to do this for you, Zephyr.”
Lizzie lets out a low whistle. “That’s a whole lotta helping.”
“Lizzie’s right. I can’t let you. I can’t accept that.”
The receptionist arches her gray, untamed eyebrows.
“Zephyr. This is a gift. Take it.”
“But it’s too much.”
“You can consider it a loan if it makes you feel better. Pay me back when you’re thirty.”
The elderly receptionist approves. “You’ve got quite a gent there, dearie.”
“Seriously, Zee,” Lizzie chimes, pushing on my elbow to just accept his generosity already.
“Thank you,” I say, and know my words will never be enough.
The receptionist looks at me and then at the credit card, quirks one brow. I nod permission. She takes Alec’s card, swipes it, prints the signature slip, which he signs before we all walk outside and load Finn into the backseat of Lizzie’s car.
Alec locks his hand with mine, lowers his gaze to this connection. “Zephyr, I didn’t come here just to help you with Finn.”
A tingle along my spine. A warning. “What’s happened?”
Lizzie sidles close.
Alec lowers his head, his voice. “Slice had an accident on the ice. He’s over at Eastern General.”
Lizzie gasps.
My bones melt from my body. “Is he okay?”
“He was talking when the EMTs loaded him into the ambulance. Coach said that was a good sign. But none of us knows. Not for sure. I came here to take you to see him.”
I look to Lizzie. “I have to go.”
“Yes, of course,” she says. “I’ll take Finn to your place, get him snuggled into your bed. Promise me you’ll text what you know when you know it, okay?”
“Of course. Thank you.” She wraps me in a hug four times the size of her.
“Call me if you need anything. If anyone needs anything.”
And then I am in the car with Alec on the way to the hospital. The roads through Sudbury turn inside out. We drive through this alternate universe, one in which Gregg isn’t the strongest person I know. A twisted around world where Gregg is vulnerable—a world I can’t control. I press my two palms flat against my stomach trying to hold in all the sick that bullies me from inside.
My throat opens, croaks. “What happened?”
“It was the craziest thing.” Alec’s worry draws out his words; they are stretched with disbelief. “One minute he had control of the puck and was skating so fast down the length of the ice—” He breaks off and my heart lunges over a cliff.
“And the next minute?”
“He just fell forward, Zephyr. Like a cut tree.”
“But hockey players fall all the time.” It’s the nature of the game.
He shakes his head slow. “Not like this. I’ve spent my whole life in a rink and I’ve never seen anyone fall like that.”
These are the words every athlete fears. They are the gateway to the end. Spinal injury. A concussion you don’t return from. Fractures and breaks that keep you out the whole season—if you’re lucky.
“Thank you for taking me.”
Alec reaches for my hand, squeezes it. “Of course, Zephyr.”
“No, I mean . . .” And I’m almost too fearful to say more because I don’t want to start a fight or remind him of our last. “Thank you for taking me to see Gregg. I know this can’t be easy for you.”