Push (Colorado Storm Hockey #3)

Chapter 25

25

ADALINE

The waiting room is a special kind of hell. I pace back and forth as my mind races with worst-case scenarios. Nik sits quietly, just watching me. I can tell he’s ready to spring up and do anything I ask of him. I wish I could be calm, but this is Teta we’re talking about. She’s been my rock for my entire life. She’s that for all of us.

Finally, after what feels like an eternity, a doctor strolls into the waiting room. “Lena Khoury’s family?”

I practically leap forward. “Yes, that’s us. How is she?”

The doctor smiles reassuringly. “She’s stable. It was a case of heat exhaustion, exacerbated by her heart condition.”

“Heart condition?” Kyla blurts out. “Why didn’t anyone tell me?”

“You were on your honeymoon,” her mother responds. “We didn’t want to bother you with it.”

Kyla crosses her arms, tears stinging her eyes. David tries to comfort her, but she pulls away. I don’t blame her at all for being pissed.

“It is congestive heart failure,” the doctor continues and I’m grateful Nik called that out on our walk in the woods. Otherwise, I wouldn’t have been prepared to hear that. “I’ve been in touch with her doctor and we’re going to operate tomorrow to put in a pacemaker.”

What? Teta, my strong, vibrant grandmother, needs a pacemaker? It doesn’t seem real and I feel unsteady on my feet. Nik’s arm is around my waist in an instant, steadying me.

“Can we see her?” I ask. My voice sounds unrecognizable.

The doctor nods. “Of course. But not for too long. She needs her rest for the procedure. And maybe just a few of you at a time.”

Since Nik and I are standing closest to the door, my family gives us the chance to visit her first.

Teta looks small in the hospital bed, but her smile is as warm as ever when we enter the room. “Habibti,” she says, reaching for my hand. “Don’t look so worried. I’m fine.”

I try to smile back, but tears slip down my face. “Oh, Teta. You scared us.”

“Pfft,” she scoffs, waving her free hand dismissively. “It takes more than a little heat to keep me down. Tell me, did you sell all your products at the festival?”

That’s my Teta, always thinking of others. I laugh through my tears and give her a report on my sales. Then we joke at Nik’s attempt at the dabke, and he takes it all in stride. He’s had his hand on my shoulder or my back the entire visit and I’ve never felt so supported. By the time we leave, Teta is chuckling and has some color back in her cheeks.

The ride home is quiet, the events of the day weighing heavily on me. Nik drives, one hand on the wheel, the other holding mine.

When we get to my apartment, Nik helps me inside. “You should get some sleep,” he says softly.

I nod, exhaustion hitting me like a wave. “Will you stay?”

He thinks on it for a moment and I’m nearly certain he will say no, but then, to my surprise, he nods. “I just have to be up early for practice.”

“Is Max okay on his own?” I ask.

“Yes, he’s fine. I’ve been checking him on the cameras all day.”

Later, when we crawl into bed, Nik pulls me close, and I curl into him, resting my head on his chest. His fingers stroke through my hair, and I feel the tension slowly leaving my body.

As I drift off to sleep, I’m grateful for Nik’s unwavering support. Maybe this whole marriage thing isn’t so bad after all.

The steady beep of Teta’s heart monitor provides a backdrop to the tense atmosphere in her hospital room. The family is all crammed in, eyes glued to the tiny TV mounted on the wall. It’s Game 2 of the cup finals and my stomach is in knots. They lost the first game to the Florida Glades in a heartbreaker, 2-1. I’m praying this game doesn’t go the same way.

“Yalla!” Teta cheers from her bed. Her voice isn’t as strong as usual, but she’s still got a lot of spirit despite the post-op infection that’s kept her in the hospital a few days longer.

“How’re you feeling, Teta?” I ask, fussing with her pillows.

She swats my hands away. “I’m fine, habibti. Now hush, the game is on.”

Mark passes around a box of donuts he picked up from Teta’s favorite donut shop earlier today. They’ve gone a little stale, but I eat one anyway and think about Nik. I’ll have to ask him what kind of donut he likes the next time we play Q&A. He’s been so caught up in the finals, only checking in with quick texts about Teta and even quicker updates about the games. I miss him more than I want to admit.

“Oh, come on!” Uncle Joe shouts at the TV. “That was clearly interference! ”

I snap back to the game just in time to see some Florida player slam into Nik. He collides with the boards and falls to his ass. My heart leaps into my throat. Nik is back on his feet in seconds. He looks pissed as hell and twice as determined as he did before.

“Your husband is tough. He’ll be fine,” Teta says and pats my hand.

I nod, but I don’t trust myself to speak. It’s weird how quickly Nik has become my ‘husband’ to everyone, including me. This whole situation is surreal—my grandmother in the hospital, my family crammed in here watching him play in the finals. If you’d told me this would be my life a few months ago, I’d have laughed in your face.

The game is brutal, with both teams scoring goals. By the third period, it’s tied 2-2. As the last minutes tick down, no one is talking, hell they’re barely breathing. The Khourys are rarely this quiet. Even Teta is sitting upright in her bed and clutching her blanket as the Storm gets a few good chances to score, but can’t make it happen.

“They’re going to overtime,” Uncle Peter announces as the buzzer sounds.

“Yeah, no shit, Peter,” Mark says and closes the donut box aggressively.

“Mark!” Pretty much everyone yells at the same time.

He holds up his hands and says sorry. He’s officially three minutes younger than me, but it feels like he’s years younger when it comes to maturity.

I grab my phone, firing off a quick text to Nik. You’ve got this. We’re all cheering for you. Kick their asses.

The intermission feels like it takes forever and no one is being nice to each other. We’re all way too tense. When overtime starts, both teams look a little tired, but they’re going at it like their lives depend on it. Nik is on the ice a lot, getting way more time than the other defensemen. He’s blocking shots and clearing the puck, but he isn’t perfect. A Florida player slips past him and the puck flies past Hawk’s glove. Just like that, it’s over. The room erupts in a chorus of groans and curses as we watch the Colorado Storm stream off the ice defeated.

“It’s okay,” Teta says, her voice firm. “They’ll get them next time.”

As the family clears out, promising to be back tomorrow with more food, I hang back. I hate this part. Leaving her is always so hard. “Do you need anything before I go, Teta?”

She smiles and waves me away. “Just for you to stop worrying so much, habibti. I’m fine, and Nikolas will be fine, too. My gut tells me they’re gonna win this whole thing. Okay?”

“I want them to win, I do. But if I had to choose, I’d rather you get better and get the hell out of here.”

“Good thing you don’t get to choose,” she says with a laugh.

I lean down to kiss her cheek, marveling at how she can be so positive when she’s the one in a hospital bed. “I love you, Teta.”

She simply smiles at that, never one to say too many words like that in return. “Get home and get some rest. You look like you need it more than I do.”

As I leave the hospital, my phone buzzes with a text from Nik.

Nikolas Huxley: Tough loss. Heading back to Denver early tomorrow. Can I see you?

I type back quickly. Of course. I’ll be waiting with coffee.

Despite the loss, despite the worry about Teta, I feel a little flutter in my chest. Tomorrow, I’ll see Nik again. And maybe, just maybe, everything will be okay. Or at least, as okay as things can be when your fake marriage is feeling increasingly real and your husband is in the middle of the championship finals.

I hate the hospital, I do, but somehow all the fluorescent lights and antiseptic smell don’t seem so bothersome today as Nik and I make our way up to visit Teta. It means the world to me he came with me today. She’s going to be thrilled to see him.

As we ride in the elevator, Nik continues with a story he’s been telling me.

“Yeah, so this happened last season. We were stuck in this tiny diner in Florida at 2 AM. Hawk convinced the server he was a professional alligator wrestler.”

“No way,” I say. “They didn’t actually believe that, did they?”

Nik grins, that rare, full smile that makes me melt a little every time I see it. “She one thousand percent believed it. She even asked for a photo with him. You haven’t met Hawk yet. He can charm the birds out of trees. You’ll see.”

“Sounds like you guys have fun together. I mean, when you’re not losing,” I say, bumping his shoulder playfully.

“Cold, Ms. Khoury,” he jokes, but I can see the determination in his eyes. “We’ll turn it around. The series isn’t over yet.”

“I know you will,” I say much more seriously as we exit the elevator. “You know, Teta’s already planning the victory party, which everyone is mad about because they’re worried she’ll jinx you. But she’s convinced donuts are your secret weapon. By the way, what’s your favorite kind of donut? We’re crazy for donuts and danish in this family. Basically, any pastry.”

“Apple cider,” he answers.

“She likes those, too. She’s gonna love to hear?—”

A shrill alarm cuts through the air and I get so startled I grip onto Nik. For a moment, I’m confused as I process what I’m seeing.

Nurses and doctors are rushing to Teta’s room.

“No,” I whisper, my feet moving before my brain can catch up. “No, no, no.”

The scene that greets us is chaos. Alarms are blaring and machines are beeping urgently. My ears can’t tolerate it. Doctors are shouting orders as nurses rush in and out with equipment.

“She’s in v-fib,” one doctor shouts.

And there, in the middle of it all, is Teta. She looks so small through the doorway. This can’t be happening. This can’t be real. Wasn’t the pacemaker supposed to prevent this?

I try to push my way into the room, but someone holds me back. Nik? A nurse? I can’t tell. Everything’s a blur.

“Clear!” a doctor shouts, and Teta’s body jerks on the bed.

I hear someone screaming. It takes me a moment to realize it’s me.

Seconds stretch into hours, or maybe it’s the other way around, as they try again and again to restart Teta’s heart.

But it can’t be done.

“Time of death, 2:47 PM.”

My knees buckle. Before I hit the floor, I’m being held upright in arms I cannot slip through.

“Ada, I’m so sorry.” Nik’s voice sounds far away, even though I can feel his head against mine. Everything is so confusing.

I can’t respond. Can’t think. Can’t breathe.

Teta is gone? But how? She’s supposed to be here, telling me to stop worrying so much. She’s supposed to teach Nik how to make kibbeh. She’s supposed to be with me. It doesn’t make sense.

“Teta,” I call for her through my savage sob that is ripping through the room.

My teta doesn’t respond.

And reality crashes over me in waves. I’m drowning in it. Drowning. I’m vaguely aware of my family arriving. Their cries blend in with mine.

She’s gone.

I don’t know how long I stand there, clinging to Nik. Without him to hold on to, I’d slip under this grief and I don’t know if I’d come back up.