Normal, she mouthed.
Relieved, Etienne took Adam’s hand. “Yeah?” he managed. “Was it pretty?”
Adam nodded. He couldn’t seem to focus on Etienne’s face, his expression dazed. “Color… of your eyes,” he slurred.
“If you’ll move over to this side,” the nurse said, oblivious to Etienne’s inner turmoil, “I can get his head cleaned up.”
“What happened?” Etienne asked her as they swapped positions.
The nurse shrugged. “You’ll have to talk to his doctor.”
“Jake,” Adam said.
Etienne waited, but Adam’s eyelids were drooping shut.
“Jake what?” Etienne asked gently, rubbing the back of Adam’s hand. Jake had to be Jake Kano, Adam’s left winger and subject of not a few rants on Adam’s part, usually about how he never watched where he was going and couldn’t read Adam’s body language for love or money.
The door opened and a young Indian woman wearing a white lab coat walked in. Her thick hair was in a braid over her shoulder and there was a tiny stud in her nose.
“Dr. Khatri,” she said, holding out her hand to Etienne. “Are you Mr. Caron’s emergency contact?”
“I guess so,” Etienne said, accepting it. “I mean, he doesn’t… there’s no one else.”
Dr. Khatri just hummed, consulting the chart at the end of Adam’s bed.
“Please, can you tell me what happened?” Etienne asked, a little desperately.
“The buckle on his helmet strap broke,” Dr. Khatri said. “From what I understand, he was going for the puck and someone got in the way?”
Jake. Etienne tightened his grip on Adam’s hand.
“He would have been fine, except for the helmet,” Dr. Khatri continued. “Mr. Caron ricocheted off the boards at about twenty miles per hour, lost his helmet, and when he went down, his head bounced off the ice.”
Etienne winced involuntarily.
“Yes,” Dr. Khatri said, her tone dry. “He’s suffered a grade two concussion, bordering on grade three. He needs to be kept on bed rest for at least three days, until he’s able to function on his own. It’s likely he’s suffering short-term amnesia, meaning he’ll forget conversations within seconds of having them. He’ll also have balance issues, severe headaches, and probably a lot of irritability. That’s common among athletes used to being in full control of their bodies and then losing that control. If he doesn’t have family in the area, he’ll need a home health care nurse until he’s recovered.”
“No,” Etienne said instantly. “They’re on the west coast. I’ll do it.”
Dr. Khatri looked skeptical. “You’ll take care of his every need for three days, including using the bathroom, showering, and making sure he eats?”
Etienne swallowed hard but lifted his chin. “Yes.”
“His vision is blurry right now,” Dr. Khatri continued. “That’s fairly common after a head injury, but I want him to go to his doctor in three days to make sure it clears up. It could be a sign of something worse.”
Adam stirred. “Tenny. Want Tenny.”
Etienne bent over, close to Adam’s face. With the blood washed off, he was terrifyingly pale, his lips almost white.
“I’m here,” he said. “You’re okay, Cary, the hospital is going to take good care of you.”
The nurse from earlier had left the room without Etienne noticing, but now she came back, alarm on her face.
“There are quite a few very large men in the hallway,” she said. “And they all want to talk to you, Mr…?”
“Brideau,” Etienne said, straightening. “They’re the Toronto Wolverines. This—” indicating Adam in the bed— “is also a Wolverine, and they’re worried about him.”
“Maybe you should go talk to them,” Dr. Khatri suggested, “before they disrupt the other patients.”
So Etienne squeezed Adam’s hand, disentangled himself gently, and headed for the door.
A big man with a sandy beard and rumpled hair met him first. “Coach Benton,” he said. “You are?”
“Etienne Brideau, I play for the Thunder.”
Benton’s eyebrows went up. “And you’re Adam’s emergency contact?”
“Apparently,” Etienne said, shifting his weight.
One by one, the others introduced themselves. Even worried about Adam, Etienne couldn’t help feeling faintly starstruck. There was tall, imposing Claude Latour, defenseman and enforcer, nothing short of a legend in his time. Next to him was short but almost as imposing Victor Yanovich, another defenseman. Hideki Matano, a center, was beside Victor, and then there was Jake, tall and blocky and with a miserable expression.
“How is he?” Jake asked.
“In and out,” Etienne said. “Doctor said he’s got a grade two concussion, bordering on grade three. He’s going to need help at home for a few days.”
“I’ll do it,” Jake said immediately, and Etienne warmed to him.
“Thanks,” he said, “but I’ve got it.”
“How do you know Cary, anyway?” Benton asked, eyes shrewd.
“Mutual friend introduced us and we’ve been talking ever since,” Etienne said. He glanced at the door. “I should go back, unless there’s something else?”
“Does he need us here?” Jake asked. He reminded Etienne of a golden retriever, big and sweet and a little clumsy.
“I don’t think so,” Etienne said, smiling at him. “I’ll tell him you came, though.”
He was back in the room before they reached the elevators. Adam was twisting restlessly on the bed, the nurse trying vainly to keep him still.
“Thank god,” the nurse said when she saw him. “Make him stop squirming, would you?”
Etienne hurried to Adam’s side. “Hey,” he said, leaning over so he was in Adam’s line of sight. “Be still, Cary, the nurse is trying to work.”
Adam quieted, groping for Etienne’s hand. “Saw a butterfly today,” he murmured, eyelids drooping again.
“I know,” Etienne said, gently brushing Adam’s hair off his forehead.
“Was pretty. Like you.” Adam’s face relaxed.
“He’s out,” the nurse said. “You can have a seat if you want.”
Pretty. Like you. Etienne groped for a chair, his mind spinning. Adam hadn’t meant it that way, of course, but still he hugged the words close, watching Adam’s face as he slept.
6
He called Rudy while Adam was asleep.
“Hey, Tenny, the team’s coming to mine tonight, you in?”
“I can’t,” Etienne said, watching Adam’s face. “Adam… he’s in the hospital.”
“He’s what? What happened? Is he okay? Are you with him?”
“He’s got a pretty bad concussion,” Etienne said. He couldn’t help taking Adam’s hand again, limp in sleep, and brushing a thumb across his knuckles. “He’ll be okay—yes, I’m with him. Apparently his winger ran into him and Adam’s helmet strap broke, his head hit the ice.”