“What are the odds with surgery?” Colette asked, her voice wobbly.
“It’s always hard to say,” Dr. Wilson said.
Adam made a noise in the back of his throat.
“I would say you have a forty percent chance of full recovery with the surgery. If it fails, however, you would more than likely be permanently completely blind.”
The bones in Etienne’s hand creaked with Adam’s grip on them.
“Can you give me a minute?” Adam said, deathly quiet.
The doctor nodded. “Of course. There’s no rush to decide—we can’t operate until the swelling goes down anyway. I’m on call if you need me.” She left the room on silent feet.
Colette glanced at William and then Etienne. “Adam, honey, do you want us to stay?”
Adam shook his head. “Please just—” He snapped his mouth shut.
“We’ll go back to your apartment, then,” Colette said gently. She hesitated. “We love you, baby.”
Adam nodded, lips clamped.
Etienne waited until the door shut behind them. “Do you want me to go too?”
In answer, Adam clutched at him. “Don’t leave me, don’t leave, don’t—Tenny, please—”
Etienne slid onto the bed and gathered him into his arms. Adam’s breathing was harsh, rattling in his chest. “I’m right here,” Etienne said. “Breathe, love, I’m not going anywhere.”
Adam heaved a sob and buried his face in Etienne’s throat. “I can’t—I don’t know what to do.”
“Okay, you don’t have to decide this minute,” Etienne said soothingly, rubbing Adam’s back in long, comforting sweeps.
“It’s not fair,” Adam managed.
“I know.”
“It’s not fair.” He sounded like a little kid, bewildered at the cruelty of the world, and Etienne’s eyes stung at the hurt in his voice.
“It’s okay to be angry,” Etienne said.
“I am,” Adam said, lifting his head. “All I want to do is play hockey and be with you. And I’m losing that. It’s not fucking fair.”
Fear flashed through Etienne. “You’re not losing me,” he said.
Adam said nothing, ducking his head again.
Etienne drew away enough to put a finger under Adam’s chin, lifting his face. “You’re not losing me,” he repeated. “Adam? Do you hear me?”
Adam pulled away. “I will,” he said, voice muffled against Etienne’s chest.
“Why? Help me out here. Why are you going to lose me?”
Adam jerked a shoulder, not lifting his head. “You’ll… get tired of it. Of me. If I’m—”
Etienne let go and rolled off the bed. Adam didn’t move, except to press his face into the pillow. From what little Etienne could see, his expression was resigned.
“Hang on,” Etienne said. “Let me get this straight. You think if you’re blind, or you can’t play hockey, or you’re not a hundred percent the person I fell in love with, that I won’t want to be with you? That I’ll just, what? Walk away? Tell you to have a nice life and leave?” He barked a sharp, angry laugh, dragging hands through his hair. “Christ, Adam, what do you think of me?”
Adam mumbled something.
“What?”
Adam lifted his head. “I said, what else is there?”
For a moment, all Etienne could do was stare at him, jaw hanging. Then he took a quick stride and crawled onto the bed again. This time, though, he straddled Adam’s hips, careful not to jostle his broken ribs, and bent to cup Adam’s face in both hands.
“I love you, Adam Alexis Noah Caron,” he said, enunciating each word. “I would love you no matter what happened. Whether you’re blind or not, even if you never set foot on ice again, I love you. Not your ability to shoot a puck or anything else you seem to be grading your self-worth by. You think that’s what I fell in love with? Your face or your body or your… slapshot or something?”
Adam’s lips trembled. “I don’t know what else there is,” he whispered. A tear slid down his cheek, and Etienne wiped it away with a thumb.
“There’s your heart,” he said quietly. He kissed the track the tear had made. “There’s your quick mind. Your sense of humor. How kind and generous you are.” He kissed Adam’s eyelid. “There is so much about you to love.” He kissed Adam’s other eyelid. “This doesn’t make you less, my love. Just different.”
“But what about me?” Adam said, pushing away. Etienne let him go immediately. Adam’s eyes, dark blue and lovely as ever, were wide and unfocused. “What if I am blind forever? I’ll never see the sun again. I’ll never see a cute kitten again and send you a picture of it.” Tears spilled down his cheeks and his face crumpled. “I’ll never see your face again.”
Etienne slid to the side and gathered him in as Adam sobbed, tucking his face into the crook of his neck. “Breathe,” he whispered. He closed his eyes and held on until the worst of the tears had passed and Adam was limp against him, hiccupping occasionally. Finally, Etienne disentangled himself enough to reach for a tissue. “Listen to me,” he said, wiping Adam’s face. “You think blind people can’t find joy in life? You’re doing them a disservice. So you might have lost your sight—that doesn’t mean you’re never going to be happy again. Besides, you can still see me.”
“How?”
Etienne caught Adam’s good hand and lifted it to his face. “Like this.” He pressed Adam’s fingers to his forehead and down, tracing over his eyes and the jut of his nose, then across his mouth. “I’m right here,” he whispered. “See?”
Adam’s eyes were still unfocused, but he kept his hand on Etienne’s face when Etienne dropped his, exploring with fingertips soft as a butterfly’s wing.
“Oh,” he murmured.
Etienne turned his head enough to brush a kiss across Adam’s palm. “Oh?”
“You’re still beautiful,” Adam husked.
Etienne’s breath caught. “You and me, baby.” He pressed their mouths together, tasting the salt of their mingled tears as Adam clung to him.
36
“There are a million reporters downstairs,” Etienne told Adam later. The nurse had been in and out, giving Etienne in the bed a disapproving glare but not making him relocate. Etienne intended to take advantage of that. He traced lazy shapes on Adam’s arm above the fiberglass cast. “I’ve been sneaking in and out the side exit but at some point we should probably make a statement.”
Adam grimaced. “Not yet.”
“No, of course not.”
“But—” Adam looked thoughtful. “I think… it’s time.”
Etienne stiffened. “Really?”
“When better?” Adam said. “Rhetorically speaking. I got injured, you won’t leave my side—people are going to talk anyway. They’re gonna want to know what’s going on. Coach Benton is ready, so are my teammates. When it’s time, we can call a press conference and just… get it all done at once. Over with.”