Good Boy (WAGs #1)(77)

I brought this sick girl a jersey. It’s so fucking impractical that I want to choke myself with it. And she’s too skinny and her eyes are scared and there’s a lump in my throat the size of a hockey puck.

How does any nurse get through the day? Fucking fuckity fuck.

But the girl’s expression lights up as soon as she sees me. “Oh my God!”

“Hey, Leila,” Jess says, her face about fifty times cheerier than mine. “Do you remember me? We did some knitting together? I’m Jess, a nursing student.”

“Okay, Jess the nursing student.” One skinny finger emerges from under the blanket. She points it at me. “Is that really Blake Riley? Or did they fuck up my meds again? If I’m hallucinating right now, this is a good one.”

I guess that’s my cue. “Hey there, Leila. Nice to meet you.” I offer her my hand.

She takes it, still staring at me. “Are you in the wrong room? I didn’t make one of those wishes, from that foundation? They do some cool stuff. But I think it’s bad luck to take them up on it.” I see a tiny shudder go through her.

“So, you’re superstitious?” I ask. I can work with this. “Because I’m hella superstitious. On game day, I have to fill up my gas tank before driving to the rink. One time I drove there on empty and I had a shitty game. Oh, fuck! Am I not supposed to say shitty on the children’s ward?”

Leila cracks up, so I’m winning.

“Here, I brought you something.” I open the shopping bag and pull out both the jerseys. “One is for you, and I heard you had a brother.”

She squeals. “No way! Will you sign them?”

“Of course.”

I’m signing the shirts with my Sharpie when Leila finally turns her attention to Jess. “Did you do this?” she demands.

I have a dirty mind, so right away I’m thinking about it literally. Oh, she did this, all right. I give Jess an inappropriate grin, which she returns with a glare that suggests I should take it down a notch.

To the girl she says, “Blake is my boyfriend.”

Leila’s head thumps back against the pillow. “Holy crap. And, before, you wanted to talk about knitting? You were seriously holding out on me.”

“I love knitting almost as much as I love him,” Jess says with an eye roll. “And knitting is less egotistical.”

I don’t even argue with the egotistical part because Jess just said she loved me. Did that really just happen?

“Where is your knitting?” Jess asks. “I wanted to see how the hat turned out.”

With the practiced ease of someone who’s been here way too long, Leila reaches over to open the hospital bedside drawer. She pulls out a somewhat lumpy hat in a burgundy color with yellow stripes. “Do you think it needs a pom-pom? What do you think of the bind-off?”

Jess takes the hat and admires it. “The ribbing turned out perfectly. And your bind-off is great. Not too tight.”

“I was worried about that.”

“It’s perfect. He’s going to love it. Do you have extra yarn so we could try a pom-pom?”

“Sure.”

They get out the yarn and Jess shows Leila how to wrap it around spread-out fingers. Or something. My gaze wanders around the room to the collection of Get Well cards on the windowsill. There are a million of them.

Jess and Leila make a gold-colored pom-pom, one of them holding the tuft of wrapped threads, the other tying a knot around them tightly. Their two heads are bent together in concentration.

“Okay. Let’s see what you think…” Jess holds the hat up, her hand securing the pom-pom on top.

“Hmm,” Leila says, squinting critically. “Maybe it’s more macho without?”

Jess pulls the ornament away again. “I kind of see what you mean. What do you think, Blake? Can a real man wear a pom-pom on his hat?”

“A real man can wear anything,” I say. “Especially if it’s handmade by someone who loves me. So where’s my hat?” I seek out Jess’s eyes, and when she smiles, her cheeks pink up.

She quickly turns her attention back to Leila’s knitting. “It’s perfect. He’s going to love it.”

The girl fingers the stitches on the brim, her throat visibly bobbing. “I’m having surgery tomorrow.”

“I know,” Jess says softly.

“Again.”

“That sucks,” my girlfriend empathizes.

“If something happens to me, would you make sure my brother gets the hat? I’m just worried that my parents would be too…” She clears her throat.

“Of course,” Jess says firmly. “You’re going to be fine, but I understand why you wouldn’t want to take any chances with, like, fourteen hours of knitting.”

“I know, right?” Leila laughs, but her eyes are shiny. “Just that ribbing took half my life.”

My heart sinks when I do the math on how many years half her life might turn out to be.

Jess, meanwhile, just smiles back at her. “The best stuff always takes a while, right?” She tucks the extra yarn into the bedside table. “I’ll come by the day after tomorrow with a box and some wrapping paper so you can hide it properly until Christmas.”

“Oh! Awesome.”