Fated Shot

Chapter 32

Mia

As soon as I saw the hit, I frantically searched the bench for a look at Jack.

His face told me everything I needed to know. It reflected what every fan at the game was currently feeling: panic, anger, and devastation. I knew it would be tenfold for him, though. Their relationship has been so fun to witness. Jack always pulls the exasperated older brother card, forced to keep Penn in line, but I can tell how much he loves it, how much he loves him.

I stand from my seat immediately, rushing up the stairs into the tunnel. My mom had the same idea, clearly, leaving the family area seats at the same moment I did. She’s already there waiting for me at our usual meeting point. We exchange a look before walking solemnly to the restricted section. Being the coach’s family has its perks for sure, and I’m about to play all my cards to get an update that I know Jack must be desperate for.

Penn is finishing up initial assessments with the trainers, but they’re transferring him to Toronto General for observation. He lost consciousness, albeit momentarily, so the team’s concussion protocol dictates he needs to have additional testing and monitoring done.

In the distance, we hear the final buzzer blare. Giving my mom a quick hug, I navigate my way toward the locker room exit.

In a frenzy, the door whips open to reveal a still sweaty, bloody-lipped man sporting black shorts, gruffly pulling a t-shirt over his firm torso. Even in this state, he looks uncannily handsome.

He doesn’t notice me right away as he looks aimlessly around, shuffling rapidly with no particular intention. I cradle his hands gently in mine, feeling his tension through the trembling. His face softens for just a moment as he looks at me, but the pain quickly returns, tightening his features once more.

He swallows hard, agony filling his eyes, as he barely manages to whisper, “Penn.”

“I know,” I say as I cup his face, trying to calm his frantic body. “He’s conscious, they took him to the hospital, he’s going to be okay.”

I study him for a moment, his lip swelling as the seconds tick by.

“You’re hurt.” I lift my hand to gently brush over his cracked lip.

He escapes my grasp.

“I’m fine,” he mumbles, taking a step forward. “I need to…”

“I know, Jack. I’m here to drive you. Okay?” I’ve never seen him like this. His whole body is constricted and tense, brimming with anxious energy. I grasp his slightly trembling hand, guiding him away as he follows me in silence.

Dropping him off at the main hospital entrance, I continue toward the massive parking garage. It takes forever to find a spot, and what feels like hours later, I’m finally able to wander through the giant sliding glass doors into the packed reception area. I spot Jack immediately. He looks far more rugged than usual, towering over everyone as he paces in the corner, barely noticing me as I approach.

“They don’t know what room he’s in. They don’t have the inpatient information and said even if they did, they wouldn’t let me up. I’m not—” His jaw tightens, eyebrows furrowing. “ I’m not family.”

You know that protective instinct that kicks in when someone around you is distressed? Like a mom lifting a car off her baby? Well, I don’t know where I willed every ounce of courage from, but I was going to protect my six-foot-three, tatted, man-sized baby.

I march over to the desk, trying to summon every bit of training I gleaned from my one week of drama camp when I was eight years old.

“M-my dad, he was rushed here an hour ago. He had a concussion, and I can’t get a hold of him or my mom.”

Looking down at my phone, I try to make it more believable.

“They said they were keeping him overnight for monitoring.”

“We don’t have any of that information here,” the guy in scrubs behind the desk replies before immediately returning his focus to the computer in front of him and typing away.

Shoot, it's time to kick it up a notch.

“Please!” I call out louder than I should, slapping both my hands on the desk. Everyone around darts their eyes over. If I need to make a scene, as much as it pains me, I will. I’d do anything for him.

I fake an exaggerated sob. “I just need to know the floor, please,” I cry, clearly flustering the guy behind the desk. I’m sure dealing with a hysterical woman is not part of his job description, and I feel bad about breaking down a guy just trying to do his job, but desperate times call for desperate measures. I start to get a little louder, cheeks burning under the stares of the people around me, which is probably just helping my case.

“Okay, okay. It’s alright, he’s probably on three, trauma ward. Through these doors, elevator on your left. Check-in with the nurse on duty, they’d know more.”

I sniffle once more. “Thank you,” I say as I walk away from the desk. As soon as we’re in the clear, I motion to Jack to follow me, and we march through the doors. Navigating us to the elevator, I hit three and prepare for my next round of backstory.

The doors open with a ding as I take the lead again, locating another nurse with a clipboard. Putting on my best confused look, I grab his arm with a smile.

“Sorry to bother you, we got all turned around. My brother and I just stepped out for a moment. Can you tell us the best way back to Penn Brooks’ room? I’m such a goof with numbers.”

The guy looks between us, either not buying it for a second or thinking we look desperate enough that he takes pity on us.

He checks his clipboard. “Three-oh-two. Follow these arrows to the end of the hallway. Second door on your right,” he shares, still eyeing us suspiciously.

“We appreciate your help,” I say with a small smile. “Come on.” I pull Jack along behind me. We don’t speak until we reach his door, and his body slams to a halt.

“Do you want me to come in with you?” I get nothing but a slight nod in return and his dazed stare as he steps forward, holding open the door for me.

The room is empty. It’s always an eerie feeling being at the hospital, the color scheme, the fluorescent lighting, the sterile smell. It gives me the heebie jeebies.

Jack makes his way over to the window, looking out over the city. I wander over to stand next to him, rubbing his arm.

“It’ll be okay, Jack, I promise. I bet he’ll be back any minute.” He doesn’t meet my eyes, instead choosing to stay staring ahead. I’m content to stand in silence with him, whatever he needs, but we’re interrupted by his phone ringing. I wasn’t sure it was possible, but he straightens, muscles stiffening even more the moment he reads the name on the screen. Nancy Brooks.

He slides his finger across the screen, tentatively raising the phone to his ear .

“... I... I am,” his voice sounds foreign, barely audible and desperate. I stand helplessly by his side, forced to watch as he struggles to get the words out. His face alone right now is enough to bring tears to my eyes. Anguished and pleading blue eyes, deeper, almost gray, now meet mine. I instinctively stretch out my hand to grab the phone.

“Mrs. Brooks?”

“Yes?” a kind-sounding voice replies.

“My name is Mia, I’m—a friend of Jack’s. We’re at the hospital right now. Penn is currently getting tests done, but he’s stable.”

“Oh, thank the Lord.” The relief in her voice is clear as she calls out, “He’s stable,” on the other end. Her background is loud, like she’s zooming down a racetrack or something.

“Can you tell him we’re on our way? We should be there in three hours.”

“You’re coming tonight?” I ask, noticing my words hit Jack like a shot in the gut. It’s almost 11 pm already.

“We left the moment we saw the hit.” Her voice is unwavering.

“I understand. We’ll let him know as soon as he’s back. I promise he will be well taken care of.”

“Thank you, dear.”

I hang up the phone, handing it back over to Jack, who turns to me. “I—I need to get some things for him,” he stammers before walking out the door.

I don't press him on it. It’s obvious he’s struggling, and maybe this is just his way of distracting himself. I instead turn to the room and leave on a mission of my own, finding some coffee and attempting to be helpful.

By the time I return with two coffees, a fresh fluffy pillow, and the softest blanket I could find, the room is filled with color. Three get-well-soon balloon bundles are scattered around the once-dull space. The bedside table is stuffed to the brim with what looks like the entire snack section of the hospital gift shop, and a TV has mysteriously appeared, turned on to ESPN. I walk in to see the culprit of all these gifts pacing back and forth, watching over a now-sleeping Penn. Poor guy.

I spread the blanket over him and rest the extra pillow beside his body, which takes up the entirety of the hospital bed. I’m careful not to tussle him around too much, too fearful to mess with the excess of wires hanging off of him.

Moving to stand beside Jack, who hasn’t stopped watching Penn for a moment, I nudge him softly with my hip.

“How’s he doing?”

I wait for a moment as he clears his throat.

“Doctor said his tests looked okay, but he’ll get the official MRI and CT results tomorrow to confirm. He’s staying overnight. They said he’s okay to sleep, they’re monitoring and—” I grab his hand gently, but he slips it away from mine.

“He’s going to be out for a few games. You should go home, it’s late. I’m going to stay here, make sure someone’s with him if he wakes back up.”

I try to meet his eyes, but he doesn’t break his gaze from Penn.

“Oh, okay.” I walk over to grab the coffee I got for him and offer it.

“Thank you, Mia. For everything.” His expression isn’t one I recognize, and his tone has a sense of finality that makes my heart pause for a moment. I don’t have a chance to study him further as he turns his body, moving closer to the bed, leaving me to exit quietly.

** *

I struggle to sleep, tossing and turning, replaying the strangeness of the evening. I realize I’ve never seen Jack so vulnerable; it’s as if he shut down on me. Grabbing my phone, I check the time: 3:02 am.

Not a single text from Jack since I left, but looking at our conversation, I see all of mine that have been left unread. It’s possible he fell asleep, but it’s just so unlike him not to reply. Worry tightens in my chest.

What if he tried to come home and got locked out? What if his phone died and he couldn’t Uber home? I’m not cut out for what-ifs. Rising from my bed, I throw on the first thing I can grab from my dresser and head out of my apartment.

When I reach his door, everything is quiet. Not a single sign of him. I pull out the key he gave me, scanning my way in. As I open the door, I’m greeted by nothing but darkness, no lights apart from the glow of the city coming in through his windows.

The sound of rushing water pulls my attention as I hurry toward the slightly ajar bathroom door. Shoving it open does nothing to illuminate the space, my eyes struggling to adjust to the darkness. My gaze falls to the tile floor beneath the waterfall shower, spotting the outline of a muscular figure. I rush over, immediately noticing the distressing scene. He’s seated on the floor, hunched over with his head buried in his hands.

I fling open the glass door, shivering as stray droplets from the shower splatter against me.

“Jack?” I call to him, a desperate plea that barely escapes my mouth, clearly not audible over the rush of the water. I lean forward, shutting off the shower and kneel on the floor beside him. My hand lands on his back, the ice-cold temperature of his skin causing me to recoil.

A more panicked tone comes out this time. “Jack, you’re freezing.”

He doesn’t reply, he doesn’t even move .

How long has he been in here? How long has he been like this? I change course, turning the faucet back on to warm, feeling with my hand until the temperature is neutral enough to raise his body temp while not scalding him. He stays hunched over, oblivious to my presence. The sight is driving me to the edge.

“We’re going to warm you up,” I say, pulling his hands away from his face.

“Jack, look at me,” I demand, and thank gosh, he turns to me, though his eyes are devoid of expression. “We have to warm you up. Can you stand for me?”

He does so, letting the warm water roll down his body. I rack my brain for what the hell to do. I’ve never seen him like this, never seen him not composed, so desperately needing me. I stand next to him, not caring about all the splashes soaking me. This has to be some form of panic attack, leaving him frozen in place like this. I try my best to ensure every inch of him is under the spray before turning to grab a towel from the linen cupboard and wrapping it around him.

He lets me lead him upstairs as I pull back his comforter and guide him into bed. I follow suit, stripping off my damp clothes, throwing on one of his sweatshirts and nustling into him. When we’re finally face to face in bed, I can see the stream of tears escaping him. His whole body is still trembling as I soothingly trace my hand across his face.

“It’s okay, I’m here.”

“I couldn’t protect him.” It comes out in a deep and broken voice.

“This was not your fault, Jack.”

He looks right at me, certainty in his eyes. “I failed him.”

“You didn’t fail him.”

“They gave me everything after my dad bailed on me, and this is how I repay them? First Reid, now Penn?”

“What are you talking about?” I ask .

“They’re going to hate me, never going to forgive me, and I’m going to be alone.” A single broken sob rips out of him. “I never wanted to be alone.”

Every inch of my soul is shattering at the wounded man ahead of me. I try my best to comfort him, rubbing his back.

“Shh, it’s okay. You’re not alone, Jack.” I’m not convinced he can hear my words as he continues staring blankly forward, tears still streaming. “I’m here, okay? Just rest, everything is okay. Everything will be okay.”

At my words, he closes his eyes—not in a comforted way, but as if rejecting what I’m saying, forcing himself not to believe it. I just keep rubbing his back, softly tickling his face, until eventually he stops shaking. His breathing is finally regulated enough that I allow myself to close my eyes along with him.

“I love you.” I whisper so softly even I couldn’t hear the words out loud.