"Okay...I'm going to try to get a flight out tonight because the team flight doesn't get in until tomorrow afternoon. With some luck, I can be there tomorrow morning before they release her."
Stevie's silent for a moment, and then I hear misgiving in his voice. "Yeah...um, listen...she didn't want you to know. She asked me not to call you when they admitted her and she won't be happy about me calling you now, or about you rushing back."
"What the fuck?" I yell into the phone, anger sizzling white hot through me. "She didn't want me to know?"
"She didn't want you to worry," Stevie placates. "She didn't want to distract you from the game."
"Fuck that," I growl. "If something like this ever happens again, you better be the first to call me, and I don't care if I'm getting ready to board a plane or skate out onto the ice. I should be told this shit, and if you hide it from me again, I'll take it personally and whip your ass."
"Whatever," Stevie sneers. "You're not my mamma, and I don't answer to you."
"Yeah? Well, fuck you, asshole," I yell into the phone as my gaze flicks over to Alex, who is staring at me in concern. His eyebrows raise sky high.
I wait for Stevie to come back at me, but all he says in a very soft voice is, "Are you done? Feel better now?"
"No," I grumble into the phone. "I don't feel better and I'm sorry...that was uncalled for. I'm just a little wigged out."
"I get it," he says and then tries to talk me down further. "Look...she's fine right now, just resting. Take the team flight home and she'll be back at her apartment by the time you land. It's all good."
"All right," I breathe out in a gust of frustration. "I'll see you tomorrow, but if she wakes up and feels like calling me...have her do it. I don't care what time. I just..."
My words trail off, floating out to the universe of uncertainty.
"You just need to hear her voice," Stevie guesses.
"Yeah...that would help."
"Got it, girlfriend," Stevie coos at me, and I disconnect, shoving my phone back in my pocket.
"What the hell is going on?" Alex asks.
"Olivia is in the hospital. Her red blood cell count is low and they gave her some type of transfusion or something."
Alex immediately grabs his phone out of his locker and unlocks it. "Shit...Sutton left me a text before we even went out on the ice. I'm sorry, man...I didn't check."
He holds the phone up and I read Sutton's text. At least she wasn't banning me from knowing that my girlfriend was in the hospital. Call me ASAP. Olivia is in hospital. On way there now. Trying to get word to Garrett.
Then another text about an hour after that. I'm here. She's going to be fine. Low blood count. Don't panic.
I raise my eyes to Alex and give him a wry grin. "At least Sutton was looking out for me."
"Yeah, well, I think she still feels like she owes you or something," he says and snickers.
Reaching into the locker, I pull out my watch and put it on, then shove my wallet in my back pocket. "I'm going to get on the Internet in the coach's office to see if I can book a flight out of here tonight."
"Dude...they are not going to like that," Alex says in a low whisper, and he's right. We are required to travel with the team, and I think it has something to do with the way we are insured, but frankly...if my plane goes down, that's the least of my worries right now.
"I couldn't give a fuck," I call out to him over my shoulder as I walk toward the visiting coach's office.
Luckily, Coach Pretore isn't in here, as I saw him in the training room talking to one of my teammates whose leg was immersed in an ice bath. I immediately jump on his laptop and check available flights, feeling the need to punch a hole through the wall when I see there isn't anything direct that will get me in any earlier than the team flight tomorrow. I briefly consider chartering a personal flight, knowing that it will cost me an arm and a leg, but then immediately dismiss it. Now I'm starting to seem a little overly obsessive, and Stevie and Sutton both seem assured that Olivia is going to be fine.
With a sigh of resignation, I get up from the desk and walk out of the office, my shoulders slumped with fatigue. I head for the exit where I know the bus will be waiting and pull my phone out of my pocket. I hold it close to me because I don't want to miss out if Olivia calls me.
Because I really, really need to hear her voice right now.
Chapter 22
Olivia
God, I want to slap some sense into Garrett. He's driving me absolutely bonkers and this shit stops as of today.
I'm serious...no more. No more hovering, hand-holding, and smothering. No more asking me if I'm okay every other minute and certainly no more handling me with kid gloves.
I've been out of the hospital for a week now, and he's treating me like a fine piece of china. Completely breakable, otherwise useless, and stuck up on a protective shelf with a bright spotlight on it. I get that he's worried, but he's gone overboard and my patience has worn thin.
Let's just say that when he got back from the L.A. road trip, he was not happy with me. In fact, we had our first fight and it was a doozy.
Stevie and Sutton had just brought me home from the hospital. The transfusion was like a miracle fix, and within just a few hours I was feeling fantastic. My energy was back, there was color in my cheeks--at least according to Stevie--and I was actually hungry. I did have to stay overnight in the hospital, but only because it was too late to let me go by the time the transfusion had been completed.
But Dr. Yoffman released me early the next morning, the discharge nurse pushed my papers through quickly, and I was back at my apartment and hunkered down with a bunch of movies by mid-morning. Sutton and Stevie had to get back to work, but I assured them I was fine on my own. Besides, I knew Garrett would be coming straight to my place once the team plane landed, and I anticipated a bit of a fight.
How could I not? Not when Stevie told me that Garrett was pissed I told him not to call. Certainly not when I heard that Garrett threatened to kick Stevie's ass, which was not cool, in my book.
And sure enough...when I opened the door to let Garrett in, his eyes traveled critically over my body and his lips were in a flat line. He couldn't find any fault with my appearance, though, because not only did I feel so much better, but I had taken the time to blow out my hair and put makeup on. I knew I looked fantastic.
That didn't stop him though.
Didn't stop him from laying into me even as he took me into his arms. After he pulled me in close and placed a kiss on top of my head, he growled at me. "I'm so pissed at you for not having Stevie call me. So fucking pissed."
I rolled my eyes, but he couldn't see that. Which was good. No sense in fanning the flames.
Instead, I pulled back and gave him a stern look. "I know you're m
ad, but I didn't want to worry you. For Pete's sake, Garrett...you were getting ready to step out onto the ice. It's not like I was dying or anything."
Yeah...that wasn't the most tactful word to use.
Dying.
Garrett released his hold on me like I was diseased, and I've never seen him look so angry. "That's really fucking nice, Olivia. Just great."
Then he spun away from me and left...slamming my door behind him.
I stood there for all of two seconds, then I was throwing the door open and running out after him. He was already halfway to his car when I called out, "Garrett...don't leave. I'm sorry."
He just threw a dismissive hand up over his head and snarled at me, "I'll be back later, when I cool down."
That "later" ended up being three hours later, and I worried a trail in my rug from pacing back and forth. Was I wrong in not telling him what happened? I truly didn't want him to worry. I truly didn't want to mess his game up. Aren't those noble reasons? And besides...it's not like we're married or anything. I mean...seriously...we've been seeing each other only a little over a month.
By the time he came back, I'd gone from feeling guilty to having a full head of steam myself. How dare he get mad at me? I'm the one with cancer...not him. It's my life, not his, so I should get to call the shots.
It wasn't pretty when he walked back in. I laid into him, calling him overprotective and smothering. He gave it right back to me, calling me insensitive and self-absorbed. I almost kicked him in the nuts over that, but then all my anger drained away when he pulled me roughly in to his body and practically wrapped himself around me.
"Please don't punish me for caring about you," he murmured with his face pressed into my neck. His words were truly pained, and guilt lanced back through me again. "And please don't shut me out again. I'm in this all the way with you, and I need you to be all the way in with me. Give me that respect, at least."
That was it. I was done for. His words were spoken with a genuine need to be a part of this with me. He had taken this responsibility on his shoulders, and the price of caring for me was having to worry about me as well. But he had made it clear it was something that he wanted to do, and when I prevented that, I was not giving him the respect he deserved.