Crossing Center Ice
By
Kimberly Rae Jordan
Copyright ©2018
Kimberly Rae Jordan
ISBN-13: 978-1-988409-22-1
A man, a woman & their God.
Three Strand Press publishes Christian Romance stories
that intertwine love, faith and family.
Always clean. Always heartwarming. Always uplifting.
Cover designed by AMYGDALA DESIGN
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This is a work of fiction. The situations, characters, names and places are products of the author’s imagination, or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to locales, events, actual persons (living or dead) is entirely coincidental.
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Scripture taken from the New King James Version®. Copyright © 1982 by Thomas Nelson, Inc. Used by permission. All rights are reserved.
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TABLE OF CONTENTS
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
CHAPTER NINETEEN
CHAPTER TWENTY
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
CHAPTER THIRTY
EPILOGUE
Note to the Reader
So do not fear, for I am with you;
Do not be dismayed for I am your God.
I will strengthen you,
Yes, I will help you;
I will uphold you with My righteous right hand.
Isaiah 41:10 NKJV
CHAPTER ONE
Torn ACL.
Surgery.
Six to seven-month recovery.
Done for the season.
Kenton Callaghan heard the words being tossed around the room despite trying his best to ignore them. He’d already heard them all, and hearing the words again didn’t change the end result. He was done. Hopefully just for the season, but there were no guarantees.
Though other players on his team had experienced similar injuries, it wasn’t something he had ever thought would happen to him. He had been fortunate to avoid any serious injuries during his ten years in the NHL, but there he sat in the team doctor’s office talking about something that would put him out of commission for months. Even though most hockey players who had ACL surgery did make a full return to the ice, it wasn’t a sure thing. Unfortunately, a brace wasn’t a long-term solution for his torn ACL. Surgery was.
“Kenton?”
He turned his attention back to the group that was gathered in the office with him. In addition to the team doctor, there were a couple of trainers and the coach. They had been discussing the report from the orthopedic surgeon with little input from him. But there wasn’t much to discuss when it came right down to it. At this point, it was more a matter of when he had surgery, not if.
“You on board for the surgery?” The question came from the coach, and even as he stared into the older man’s eyes, they both knew what the answer would be.
“Yep.”
Everyone gathered there looked relieved, which puzzled Kenton. Did they honestly think that he’d refuse to have surgery? That would essentially mean he would he’d have to retire. With the surgery, there was still a chance he’d be back on the ice for next season. Without it…Well, he might just as well just hang up his skates.
But then what would he do?
Kenton couldn’t remember a time in his life when he hadn’t played hockey. Every spare moment that he could get ice time, he’d donned his skates and been out there. After high school, he’d gone against his parents’ wishes and skipped college, choosing instead to go through the major juniors to grab the attention of scouts from the NHL teams. He’d been the youngest player in the NHL at the time when he’d signed his first contract three days after he turned eighteen.
He’d worked hard to get to where he was, and now all of it was at risk because of a collision and a wrong turn on the ice a week earlier. So far, the team had kept quiet about his status, but now the public would know he was going to be moved to the long-term injured reserve list.
The timing was horrible. He only had a little over a year and a half left on his contract, and now seven to nine months of that time was going to be eaten up with the surgery and rehab. In order to guarantee a good contract after his injury, he needed to make sure that he returned from rehab playing as good as—if not better than—how he had been playing prior to the injury.
If he’d been injured earlier in his contract, he would have had a few years to show that he was still a valuable asset to the team. He’d done well for them up to this point, but when push came to shove, teams wanted players who were worth the money they were being paid—especially if it was a significant amount. If they didn’t think that of Kenton, the best case scenario was he’d be up for a trade. Worst case scenario was that he would be sent down to the minors.
“Well, let’s get this show on the road,” the coach said, looking at the doctor. “Let me know when the surgery date is.” He directed his steely gaze at Kenton. “Wear that brace, and don’t overdo it before surgery.”
Kenton gave a single nod, even as anger burned inside him. Anger at the player who had hit him in such a way that he’d turned badly on the ice, tearing the ACL. Sure, the guy had ended up with a penalty, and Kenton’s team had scored the winning goal on the power play, but the incident had left Kenton’s future in the NHL hanging in the balance.
After the coach had left with the head trainer, Kenton’s gaze went to the physical therapist who had joined them and was now talking with the trainers. She was a beautiful blonde with bright blue eyes. Her hair was pulled back into a ponytail that curled down between her shoulder blades. When she glanced at him, a corner of her mouth pulled up in an exasperated smile while she gave him a slight shake of her head. He’d asked her out several times, but she’d brushed him off each time, finally putting him firmly in his place by telling him she’d never go out with an athlete. Plus, she was already dating a man—a high school gym teacher—she hoped to spend the rest of her life with.
While he hadn’t asked her out after that point, Kenton had been somewhat intrigued by the idea that she had turned down a man of his wealth and fame for someon
e who worked a low-profile job with a salary nowhere even close to Kenton’s. He was used to women wanting to be with him because of who he was and the sizeable bank account. Of course, none of his relationships since hitting the big league had lasted more than five or six months.
“So, you need to keep the knee braced, and do your best to stay off it until surgery,” the doctor said. “I’ll work with the orthopedic surgeon to set up the surgery date.”
“How soon do you think it will be?” Kenton asked, suddenly eager to have it over with so he could focus on the recovery. Now that the decision had been made, he wanted to get the ball rolling.
“Soon. Maybe even within the week.”
While it wasn’t the next day, at least he wasn’t looking at a wait of several weeks. “Let me know when you have a definite date.”
Once in the Uber he’d called to take him home, Kenton sent a quick text to his dad.
Torn ACL. Will be having surgery within the week. Estimate of 6-9 months recovery.
Dad: Sorry to hear that, son. Do you need someone there with you?
Under normal circumstances, his dad probably wouldn’t have asked. He would have just told Kenton he was going to be there with him. But with everything that had happened with his step-mom, Kenton knew his dad would stay by her side. Which Kenton understood completely. He wished he also could have been there with his family, but with the pre-season already underway when his mom had had her aneurysm, he’d had no choice but to return to LA after his quick visit to see her immediately following her collapse.
I’ll be fine. I have the whole medical team involved in this, so I’m certainly not alone. I’ll let you know when I have the surgery date.
Dad: Praying for you. Take care of yourself. Love you.
Love you too, Dad.
Kenton had never been one to be overly effusive with his feelings, but after what had happened with his mom, he made sure that, at the very least, his father knew he loved him.
With a sigh, he lowered his phone and leaned his head back against the seat. He closed his eyes, suddenly feeling very alone. Though he had friends on the team—close ones even—they would still be caught up in the practices, games, and trips, in addition to their own personal lives. Though he could likely go to practices and home games, there was really no sense in doing that right now. And he had no doubt that Celine, the woman he’d been dating for the past two months, would be by eventually to break things off.
Sadly, of all the things that lay ahead of him, the likelihood of a relationship break-up didn’t bother him as much as it probably should have.
“Did everything go okay?” His dad’s voice held more than a little concern.
Kenton shifted the ice pack that was currently resting on his knee. “Everything went fine, Dad. Went in this morning early and came home just about an hour ago.”
“Are you in pain? Are you alone?”
“Not in pain right now. They gave me some nice drugs before I left the hospital. I’m icing my knee right now. Apparently, I’m supposed to do that every couple of hours while I’m awake. Currently, I’m on the couch with my leg propped up on pillows. I see plenty of binge-watching of Netflix shows in my future.”
“And?”
“And yes, I am alone at the moment, but not for long. I have someone coming by with food in a bit. And I am already a pro on the crutches they gave me. I’m not totally incapacitated.” Kenton was trying to do his best to alleviate any concerns his dad might have. He had plenty of things to focus on without having to worry about Kenton.
He heard muffled conversation then his dad was back. “I gotta go, son, but let me know if you need anything. We’ll be praying for you.”
“Thanks, Dad.” It was the way the older man ended every conversation, and though Kenton hadn’t been to church for anything but a wedding in several years, he was appreciative of his dad’s concern, knowing it was that that prompted his prayers. “I’ll talk to you in a day or two.”
After the conversation ended, Kenton dropped his cell phone on the carpeted floor beside him and leaned his head back against the arm of the couch, thankful that he’d invested in a large, comfy couch rather than the more formal one that his girlfriend at the time had tried to talk him into. He’d go for comfort over looks any day.
His phone rang again, and he reached down to pick it up, well aware of who was on the other end of the line.
“If you had given me the code, I wouldn’t have to phone you to let me in each time.”
The strident voice of his current girlfriend made Kenton want to hang up again. Only the knowledge that she had agreed to pick up the food he’d ordered kept him from saying anything that might tick her off. Instead, he put her on speakerphone while he brought up the app that controlled the entrance to his building and then his condo.
When she walked into his penthouse condo a few minutes later, he noticed right away that she was dressed to kill, which meant she didn’t plan to hang around for an evening of food and Netflix. He couldn’t find it in himself to feel disappointed about that, especially since his agent was going to be stopping by later. It never went well with the two of them in the same space.
Celine put the bag of takeout food he’d ordered on the coffee table within his reach. “I can’t stay. Sorry.”
“That’s fine,” Kenton assured her, his stomach growling as the aroma of the food reached him.
She straightened, crossing her arms over her slender waist. Her chin lifted as her shoulders pulled back, and Kenton knew what was coming.
“Also, I think that maybe it would be better if we didn’t see each other anymore. After all, you’ll need to focus on your recovery.”
If Kenton had cared about the fact that she was dumping him, he might have argued that she seemed to have no trouble sticking around when he was focused on his training and his games, which—without a doubt—required more time away from her than his recovery would. Clearly, she saw him as a sinking ship, and she was getting off.
“That’s fine. I understand.” He knew his response was likely to tick her off, but now that he had his food, he wasn’t as concerned.
People might say he was cold-hearted, but frankly, the fact that she was dumping him just hours after surgery was a pretty good indication that she was the cold-hearted one. Neither of them had emotions beyond pride invested in their relationship, which was what was hurting her now.
Thankfully, she wouldn’t be tweeting any nasty comments prompted by his cold reception of her ending their relationship. She was a seasoned pro-athlete girlfriend. Spilling all over social media about an ex-boyfriend pretty much guaranteed she’d never get another one. No professional athlete wanted their private business spread all over the internet, so doing that would be the kiss of death for women like Celine.
“I’ll just grab my things and be on my way,” she said with a sniff as she spun on her heel.
Kenton watched her go, feeling his solitary life more acutely at that moment than he had in a very long time. Perhaps if he’d been willing to invest more of himself in a relationship, he’d have had the type of girlfriend who would have stuck by him when things got difficult. Now that he was on the fringe of the team, sidelined because of his injury, he could really see how alone he was.
“See ya around,” Celine called out as she walked out the door with a small bag in her hand.
Kenton had no doubt he would, likely on the arm of the next single, well-paid hockey player she came across. Before digging into his food, he unmuted his big screen TV in time to hear his name mentioned.
“And after more than a week of speculation, it was confirmed today that Kenton Callaghan’s injury in last week’s game against Colorado was a torn ACL. Word from his team this afternoon was that he has undergone surgery to repair it.” The commentator turned to the guy seated beside him. “Given that recovery time from this type of injury can be upwards of nine months, how do you think this will impact his future since he has less than two years left on
his contract?”
Kenton’s appetite might have been impacted by the miserable analysis of the sportscasters had he not already come to a similar conclusion himself. But they were underestimating him. From the moment he’d set his sights on the NHL, Kenton had done everything within his power to get to where he was. It would be no different when it came to recovering from this.
When his agent showed up later, he let himself into the building and condo using the code Kenton had entrusted to him.
“I’m so sorry I wasn’t here when you had your surgery.” Ward “my dad is Edward” Sheets held out his hand as he walked over to where Kenton sat.
“It wasn’t a problem.” Kenton gave him a firm handshake then said, “Help yourself to a drink, if you’d like one. Sorry I can’t get it for you.”
Ward waved him off. “You know you don’t have to wait on me.”
It was true. In the thirteen years they’d known each other, standing on ceremony had slipped away a long time ago.
Kenton turned off the television which was playing the one show he’d found that looked interesting to help pass the time while waiting for his agent to arrive.
Ward returned from the kitchen with a can of soda for each of them then sat down on the ottoman next to the couch. He pinned Kenton with a focused stare. “How are you doing? No lies.”
“No lies,” Kenton agreed. It was something Ward had made clear to him from day one. Kenton was never allowed to lie to him about anything. “I’m not in much pain, thanks to the drugs, but I’m getting bored.” He paused. “And I was watching ESPN.”
Ward sighed as he gave a shake of his head. “No more of that. I’m officially taking that on completely. If something is said that you need to hear, I’ll let you know.”
Kenton nodded. From the first time he’d met Ward Sheets, the man had made it clear that they each had a role to play. If Kenton promised to stay focused on playing his best hockey, Ward would focus on getting the best contracts he could. And as Kenton’s playing had improved, so had the contracts Ward had been able to negotiate for him, along with endorsements that had padded his bank account even further. After hearing some of the horror stories other hockey players had experienced with their agents, Kenton knew he was incredibly lucky to have someone in his corner that he trusted one hundred percent.
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