Kiss and Don't Tell(79)

“Would you be able to accept that?” I shoot back to the boys. “Would you be able to just . . . throw it all away, give it all up?”

Posey stands with his hands in his pockets, looking down at the ground.

Holmes is leaning against the pool room wall, not saying a damn word, even though I know he’s the one who told the guys what’s going on.

And Hornsby and Taters—they avoid eye contact as they stare at their hands.

“That’s what I fucking thought,” I say. “So unless you put yourself in my goddamn shoes, you can’t have an opinion on what I do.”

“We sure as hell can have an opinion,” Taters says, his voice rising. “You’re our brother, and I’m not going to sit back and watch you make a mistake because you’re too scared of the consequences. And I would expect any one of you to treat me the same damn way.” He pushes his finger into my chest, his eyes lit with anger. “There’s something wrong with your head. You need to get it checked out. Fully checked out. And whatever the end result is, we’ll be there for you, but I refuse to stand by and not say a goddamn thing.”

“Same,” Hornsby says. “This is serious, man. This isn’t a choice; this is a requirement. It’s not as if you have a bad knee and some rehab will get you through it. This is your head, man. Your brain. They need to make sure that everything is okay.”

“He’s right,” Holmes says from the sidelines.

“It would make us all feel better if you went back home and checked on things,” Posey adds.

“I’m not going back to Vancouver. This is my break, my time off. The last place I want to spend it is in Vancouver, where it’s crawling with fans. It’s bad enough I’ve had people ask me how I am while being here. Vancouver would be even worse.”

“We’re not saying stay there the whole time,” Hornsby says in a convincing voice. “Just go talk to Doc, get things checked out one more time, see a neurologist if Doc says to, and then go from there. We’ll extend our time here. It’s not as though we have anyone to answer to.” Hornsby looks at Taters and says, “Not to rub salt in the wound.”

“Thanks, bro.”

“Please, Doc wants to see you,” Posey says.

“What about Winnie?” I ask in a whisper. “I’m not about to just leave her here with you four.”

“Afraid she’ll fall for one of us?” Taters asks in a teasing tone.

“No chance,” I answer. “But it’ll be awkward for her.”

“No offense,” Hornsby says, “but you just met the girl. This is your head we’re talking about. That’s more important. She lives in Seattle—that’s two and a half hours from Vancouver. If you really like her, try some long-distance shit.”

“I don’t know.” I grimace, my head starting to get fuzzy from this conversation. “I should go lie down.”

“Just think on it,” Hornsby says. “We’ll help you any way we can. Chartering a plane would be the fastest and easiest, and Doc can pick you up from the airport. Who knows? Maybe it won’t be anything.”

Or it’ll be everything that stops me from going on the ice.

“I’ll give it some thought,” I say, knowing damn well I’m not going anywhere. When I stand, my body sways to the side, and I grip the back of the lounger to regain my balance. Fuck. I squeeze my eyes shut, my head spinning. Deep breaths.

It’s just because of this conversation, because it was a tiresome day with the migraine. That’s all.

But, of course, the boys notice. How could they not? I probably look like an old person trying to gather themselves before they start walking.

They exchange worried glances, and I try not to growl in frustration.

“I’m fine,” I say as I move toward the door.

Just as I reach for it, Holmes says, “You either go see Doc, or I tell Coach.”

And there it is—the ultimatum. I’m just surprised it came from Holmes and not Taters.

I pause, my fingers gripping the handle of the sliding glass door. Slowly I turn around and look Holmes in the eyes. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me,” he says, his voice completely unapologetic, not faltering. “You either go see Doc, or I tell Coach. I’m not fucking around. These three might not go to that level, but I will.” Intensely, he looks me dead in the eye and says, “I already lost one brother, I’ll be damned if I lose another.” Then he pushes off the wall and heads in the opposite direction.

Fuck.

If Coach finds out, he is not only going to force me to come home, but he’s going to get the front office involved, and that’s the last thing I want to have happen. They don’t need to know their star goalie is having issues. That opens the door for trades, for rookies to take my spot.

And Holmes knows that. He knows the card he just threw on the table.

I don’t have a fucking choice.

I have to go see Doc.





Josh: Hey, have a second to talk on the phone?

I stare down at the phone, my grip growing tighter and tighter. Dude has the worst fucking timing. I’m in no mood to deal with this bullshit.

Pacey: Rather not talk. Unlike Dad, I know how to hold a grudge.

I’m feeling ripe, ready to take my anger out on someone, anyone who steps in my way. The last thing I want to do is leave Banff, especially because of something correlating to my injury. I don’t want to be reminded of what happened to me. I don’t want to be reminded of the fear. I don’t want to be reminded of the possibility that my career might very well be over.