by Keeland, Vi
He nodded. “Stress will do that to you.”
I finished off a bottle of water. “I need a favor from you,” I said.
“Name it.”
“If something goes wrong, and I don’t…you know. I need you to promise me you’ll go tell Georgia in person before word gets out on the news.”
“Nothing is going to go wrong. But yeah, of course. You have my word.”
I took a deep breath and nodded. “Thanks.”
“What about when everything goes right? Where does this leave you two? You finally going to pull your head out of your ass and try to get your girl back?”
I smiled. “Try? You mean try to stop me.”
Tate laid a hand on my shoulder. “You know when you know it’s real?”
“When?”
“When the thought of being without her doesn’t scare you half as much as brain surgery.”
CHAPTER 30
* * *
Georgia
I opened the front door of my apartment at 6 AM, and Maggie rushed in. “Did you see the news this morning?”
She had on pajama pants with big red hearts and a T-shirt that said V is for Valentine, but the word Valentine was crossed out and underneath it was the word Vodka. Her hair was piled on top of her head, and what looked like yesterday’s mascara was smeared beneath her eyes.
“No, why?” I asked. “And did you ride the subway like that? You look a little nutty.”
She took out her phone. “Max was injured last night.”
My heart stopped. “What? What are you talking about?”
She typed something into her cell and handed it to me. A news segment showed a hockey rink with a bunch of players down on one knee while paramedics worked on a player splayed out on the ice.
“During tonight’s Hockey for Alzheimer’s charity event,” the reporter said, “Max Yearwood, the newest member of the LA Blades, took a spill. He went down during the second period while attempting a slap shot. No contact was made, and as far as we can see, the incident was not due to an injury. He was transported to Cedars Sinai where he is reportedly in stable, but serious condition. No word yet on what caused the All Star to lose consciousness.”
“Oh my God. Stable but serious? What does that mean?”
“I Googled it on the way over. It said it means he’s probably in the ICU for a condition, but his vitals are stable.”
I felt frantic. “ICU? What could have happened?”
“I have no idea. But you have that meeting downtown with the bank this morning, and I was afraid you’d hear about it on your way and get upset. So I came over to tell you.”
I sat, holding Maggie’s phone out to her. “What do I do? His family all lives out of state. What if he’s alone? Should I go there?”
“I’m not sure. I mean, you’re not together anymore. So technically, he’s not your responsibility. And the news could be blowing it out of proportion. He could’ve just passed out from being dehydrated or who knows—hurt his ankle, and that caused him to fall and hit his head.”
“Yeah, I guess…” My chest felt tight, like it was hard to breathe. “Maybe I should at least call him.”
“It’s 3AM in California.”
“Shoot.” I sighed. “That’s right. Well, my meeting is at eight, so maybe I’ll just go to that, and then by the time I’m done, it will probably be ten, which is seven there, and I’ll call and see what’s going on.”
“Okay.”
“Can I see your phone again? I want to watch the video once more.”
This time, I zoomed in on Max lying on the ice and ignored the reporter talking. He wasn’t moving. He just laid there, completely still, while people worked on him. It left me with an even worse feeling than before. We might not be a couple anymore, but I’d never forgive myself if something happened. It was my fault he was even out in California this early.
• • •
“Damn it.” I grumbled to myself as I climbed the stairs from the subway.
Max wasn’t answering his phone. I’d called him the minute I walked out of my meeting, which was twenty minutes ago. Both times it rang and rang, only to eventually go to voicemail. I hadn’t left a message the first time, but now I thought I should.
“Hi, Max. It’s Georgia. I saw on the news this morning that you passed out on the ice or something. They said you were in serious but stable condition. I just want to check in on you. Would you please give me a call back or shoot me a text when you can?” I paused. “I hope you’re okay.”
It was a two-block walk to my office. I’d had a knot in my stomach since early this morning, and Max not answering only made it worse. I navigated the busy sidewalk in a daze, not remembering the walk from the subway when I arrived. The thirty-second elevator ride clenched my stomach with anxiety. There was no service in here, and I didn’t want to miss Max if he called back. As soon as the doors opened, I rushed out and frantically checked my phone—which was exactly where my nose was still buried when I passed through reception without looking up.
“Georgia?”
The voice was familiar, but I couldn’t place it until I turned around. “Tate?”
At first, I was relieved to see Max’s brother. He’d be able to give me information about what happened and how Max was. But that relief faded when I realized what Tate looked like. His usual neatly groomed hair stuck up all over the place, the sides puffing out in a way that made me think he’d spent hours pulling it, yanking on the strands. Dark circles lined his eyes, and his tanned skin was now a gray, sallow color. I felt sick.
“Can we talk?”
“Is he okay? Is Max okay?”
Tate frowned. He glanced over at the receptionist, who was staring at us. “Do you have an office or somewhere we can speak in private?”
My response was delayed, but eventually I nodded. It took every ounce of focus I had to put one foot in front of the other and lead him to my office. Once we were inside, he shut the door behind us, and I immediately turned around.
“Is Max okay?”
“Can we sit, please?”
I shook my head. “You’re freaking me out, Tate. Is Max okay?”
He blew out a jagged breath and shook his head. “He’s in surgery right now. But things don’t look so great.”
The room started to spin and I thought I might pass out. Tate had been right. I needed to sit. With my hand clutching my stomach, I grabbed one of the guest chairs in front of my desk. “What happened?”
“He had an aneurysm. It ruptured.”
I covered my mouth. “Oh my God. An aneurysm like Austin. And your dad.”
Tate nodded and took the seat across from me. “Yeah. Aneurysms can run in families. After we found out Austin had an abdominal aortic aneurysm, our doctor suggested we all get scans. Max was the only other one of us who had one.”
“When you found out Austin had one, you all got scans? So Max has known about his for ten years?”
Tate nodded.
“His is in his brain. It’s in an area that controls motor skills, so if he removed it, there was a chance he could suffer some damage…and not play hockey again.” Tate shook his head. “The screwed-up thing is, he’d avoided going to a doctor or getting a scan for the last decade. Then a month ago, he finally decided to go for a new scan. Last week he set an appointment to have the surgery. He was going to have it removed on Tuesday. But it ruptured while he was playing last night. He’d been getting headaches the last few days, but he chalked them up to stressing over the surgery. Turns out, it was leaking, and the headaches were warnings.”
“Can they fix it with the surgery?”
“They’re trying. The first twenty-four hours are the most critical. The doctors said since it ruptured, the chance of him not making it through this is forty percent, and if he does, there’s a sixty-five percent chance he’ll have some damage—that could range from impaired motor skills to…worse.”
I stood. “Are you going there? I want to go.”
> “I actually took the redeye this morning to come talk to you. But I’m going right back to the airport after this.”
“You came all this way just to tell me?”
Tate nodded. “I made a promise to my brother when he decided to have the surgery—that I’d come tell you in person if things didn’t go well. You’re the reason he decided to have the surgery at all.”
“Me? But we’re not together anymore.”
“I know. Having the surgery meant potentially losing something he loved—playing hockey. Every time he skated onto the ice, his blood pressure rose, and it increased the risk of rupture. He didn’t want to drag you into something that had so much unknown. But then he found something he loved more than hockey—you. And he was willing to take the risk so he wouldn’t lose you.”
Tears slid down my cheeks. “We need to go. I want to be there when he gets out of surgery.”
Tate nodded.
On our way to the airport, my admin found us the next flight we could get and booked us tickets, even though it was going to be tight. Once we cleared security, we ran through the airport, trying to make it before the doors closed. I don’t think either of us breathed until we were on the plane. Since we’d booked last minute, Tate and I weren’t seated together. I was about ten rows behind him, but the alone time allowed me a chance to try to absorb everything he’d said.
How had I not put the clues together? I’d found an appointment card for a neurologist when we were out in California, for God’s sake. And Max never could give me a reason he didn’t want to try to make things work. It all made sense now; he didn’t want to hurt me if he was going to continue playing hockey and put himself at risk. I should’ve realized he was trying to protect me. The man was headstrong and stubborn, but also noble and beautiful. I couldn’t wait to tell him I loved him almost as much as I couldn’t wait to yell at him for what he’d done.
I just hoped I got the chance to do both.
• • •
Max’s mother’s face stopped me in my tracks as we entered the ICU.
“Georgia?” Tate only noticed I wasn’t next to him anymore, not that his mother stood outside a closed curtain looking pale as a ghost. “What’s the matter?”
I shook my head rapidly, but couldn’t form words.
He took my hand. “It’s okay. He made it through. We have to do this one step at a time.”
Tate traced my line of sight, and his face fell when he saw his mother. “Shit.” He raked a hand through his hair. “Give me a minute.”
I waited in the middle of the ICU while Tate walked over to his mother. The minute she saw him, she threw her arms around his shoulders and started sobbing.
Silent tears rolled down my face. He can’t… He just can’t.
Tate pulled back from the embrace and spoke to her. He looked over at me once as his mother wiped her eyes, and he held up one finger before slipping behind the curtain. When he came back out, he looked as pale as his mother. I watched him swallow before he walked back over. I don’t think I moved a single muscle as I waited.
He blew out two puffed cheeks full of air. “They had to put him into a medically induced coma. His brain is swelling, which is common after the surgery he just had, but they weren’t able to stop it any other way. They basically had to shut off his brain to give it time to heal.” Tate scoffed. “Makes sense, I guess. The only way we could ever get him to stop fighting for what he wanted was to knock him out.”
“How long will they keep him out?”
“They don’t know.”
I took a deep breath and wiped my tears. “Can I see him?”
“He doesn’t look good, Georgia. His face is swollen, and he’s hooked up to a million machines. Of course you can go in, but you might need to prepare yourself.”
I stared at the drawn curtains surrounding the man I loved. “How do I do that?”
Tate frowned. “I wish I knew.”
We walked over to his mom. She smiled and wrapped me in her arms. “Thank you for coming.”
“Of course.”
She looked me in the eyes. “He loves you very much.”
I smiled sadly. “The feeling is mutual.”
Tate stood next to me. “Do you want me to go in with you?”
I shook my head. “No, I just need a minute.”
“Take all the time you need, sweetheart.” His mother rubbed my back.
After a few deep breaths, I nodded and walked behind the curtain.
My heart stopped. Tate had warned me, but nothing could have prepared me for this moment.
Max didn’t look like Max. If there hadn’t been a curtain around him, I could have passed right by, still looking for the strong, beautiful man I knew. His skin was gray, and his face was so swollen. Tubes and wires were connected all over him, and bandaging wrapped around the top of his head from his eyebrows up. But his lack of expression scared me the most. I hadn’t realized just how much Max’s personality lit his face until now. Whether it was a smile, a smirk, or a frown, he was so animated and expressive. Now he looked…
I couldn’t even let myself think it.
I had to pull myself together and be his strength until he was ready to fight on his own. So I stepped forward to the bed and took his hand.
“Hey. It’s Georgia. You’re going to be okay, Max. You’re the strongest person I’ve ever met, and we can do this together.” I took a deep breath and squeezed his hand. “I love you, Max. I love you more than anything, and I never got the chance to tell you that. So I need you to get better so I can look in your eyes and make sure you know it.” I shook my head. “I also need to yell at you for hiding all of this from me. Just because you had a little brain surgery doesn’t mean I’m letting you off the hook. I’m sure you know that.”
The curtain rustled behind me. Tate stepped inside. “Just checking to see if you’re okay.”
I nodded and looked back over at Max. “I am. We’re both going to be okay.”
For the next twelve hours, Max’s family and I stayed by his side. Doctors came and went, nurses adjusted monitors and hung new bags of medicine, but Max stayed the same. He didn’t get better or worse. The doctors said they didn’t anticipate any improvement in the short term. They just needed time for him to rest and heal. At midnight, Max’s brothers got everyone together, and we made a schedule for the next twenty-four hours so someone would be by his side at all times, but each of us could get some sleep. Tate, Max’s mom, and I were all going back to Max’s house for a few hours.
But as we walked out of the ICU, I remembered something. “Can you just give me one minute?”
“Of course.”
Max’s brother Will was sitting by his side when I walked back behind the curtain.
“Do you want me to give you a minute?” he asked.
I shook my head and dug into my purse. “No, I just forgot to leave this.” Pulling out Yoda, I set it on the tray next to his bed.
“Is that one of his?”
I nodded. “Yeah, he gave it to me the night we met.”
Will chuckled. “If I had any doubt about you being the one, that just sealed the deal. He knew the day he met you.”
I smiled. “I did, too. It just took me a while to admit it to myself.”
“I’ll keep my eye on the little guy. Go get some sleep.”
“Goodnight, Will. Goodnight, Max.”
CHAPTER 31
* * *
Max
She was snoring.
The first thing I saw when I opened my eyes was Georgia. Her head was in the crook of my shoulder in a hospital bed, and her body was curled up in a ball beside me. And she was damn snoring.
I smiled. That might be my new favorite sound ever.
I looked around the dark room, confused. I didn’t remember how I got here, though somehow I did know where I was. Bits and pieces came back to me.
I remembered sitting on the bench, lacing up before the charity hockey game.
I remembere
d people talking to me while I slept. I could hear them, but they sounded very distant, like they were cutting through a thick wall of fog.
I remembered beeping. And someone washing my face. And being wheeled somewhere. And the nurses and Georgia laughing while they…did something. And the number ninety-six. What was ninety-six?
My throat was dry, and my neck hurt, but I didn’t want to move and wake Georgia. And I was so damn tired. So, so tired. I think I might’ve fallen back asleep for a little while, because when I woke up, Georgia wasn’t snoring anymore. She was staring up at me. Our eyes met, and hers grew wide.
She jolted upright. “Holy shit! Max?”
It was hard to talk because my throat was so dry. “You were snoring.”
“Are you joking? You’ve been in a coma for weeks and the first thing you say when you wake up is I was snoring?”
I smiled. “I think you left some drool, too.”
Georgia covered her mouth and started to cry. “Oh my God, Max. I thought I was going to lose you.”
“Shhh... Come here.”
“I think I should go get the nurse. Or the doctor. Or both.”
“In a minute. Just lie back down with me first.”
She kept shaking her head and crying. “You’re really awake. I can’t believe you’re awake. I’m afraid to lie down because what if I’m dreaming, and I go back to sleep and this isn’t real when I wake up?”
“Stop overanalyzing.”
“Are you in pain?”
“I feel like someone beat the crap out of me. But that’s not new.”
She snuggled back into the crook of my arm. “I’m so mad at you. You should’ve told me, Max.”
“I’m sorry. I was trying to do the right thing. I’ll make it up to you.”
“Oh, you will alright. For the next forty or fifty years.”
I smiled. “Your version of punishment is my version of heaven, sweetheart.”
“Do you know how long you were out?”
I shook my head but remembered those numbers again. “Was it ninety-six days?”
