Page 185 of Like a Power Play
I passed out in an ice arena packed to the brim with people. People Iknow.People who believed the worst I’d dealt with was a sprained wrist and a rough bout of food poisoning a few months ago. People who’d heard about my past in Minnesota and thought I quit because I lost the passion and not because I lost the ability.
“Does the team… know?” I ask quietly.
She tucks a strand of strawberry hair behind my ear. “I told them,” she answers hesitantly. “I’m sorry, sweetie. I just—they needed an explanation, and—”
“It’s okay,” I cut in. “It was probably the right thing to do.”
“You’re not mad at me?”
I shake my head. I don’t know how I could be. What else was she supposed to do? Lie? Leave them with no context, knowing they’d figure it out eventually anyway? I don’t want to be seen as weak. But I’m tired. Tired of pretending things work the same for me as they do for them. Tired of making up stories about stomach bugs and imaginary trips down the stairs. Tired of feeling like I don’t deserve to live my life the way I need to in order to survive.
“No,” I say. “I’m not mad.”
“Good.” She smiles comfortingly, sending a flood of warmth to my aching chest. “Because they’re all here to see you.”
“What?”
She laughs. “They’re wreaking havoc in the cafeteria right now. Probably eating the hospital barren. A few of them went home to shower, but I think most of them are back.”
As if on cue, a familiar pair of blunt black bangs peek through the window.
Bailey.
“If you’re not ready to see them,” my mom says gently, “I can tell them to come back later.”
I hesitate. I know I want to seePeyton. That’s easy. She’s used to all of this by now. But the rest of them?
I’m scared that once they see me like this—in a gown, with a tube in my chest, eyes swollen from crying—it’ll be the only version of me they remember.
But then I think about how they rallied when I stood up to Kaiser. How they made space for me at the diner when we watched the Sabertooths destroy the Porcupines. How they started calling me “Coach” like I deserved the title, even though I was kind of a dick in the beginning.
At this point, if all they see when they look at me is someone fragile, then they haven’t been paying attention.
“I want to see them,” I say, sitting up.
My mom smiles, then turns and waves them in.
Nothing could have prepared me for the parade that is the Grizzlies.
Not only do bodies flood the room, but with them comes an explosion. Balloons bob along the ceiling. Every flower I know the name of is being carried in someone’s arms, filling the once beige, sterile room with color and soft floral scents. Zayda has a party hat on, for some reason, and one of those paper blowers that unrolls when you put air into it. She presses her hands into a heart shape and aims it right at me.
Bailey is the first to make it to my bed. She pushes past everyone, her dark bangs still damp from her shower, Kiki’s Delivery Service pajama pants hanging from her waist. In one hand, she’s carrying a bag of watermelon Sour Patch Kids, and in the other, a pink, vintage-looking gift bag with gold handles.
“Oh my god,” she breathes, collapsing onto the edge of my bed. Her big, brown, worried eyes bore into mine. “Are you okay?Pleasetell me you’re okay. You had usso worried.”
“I’m okay,” I say coolly.
She lets out a huge exhale, her entire body relaxing as the air evacuates her lungs. “Good,” she chimes. “Because I brought you this.” She drops the candy on my tray, then shoves the gift bag urgently into my lap, gesturing for me to open it.
Humoring her, I reach past the crinkled eggshell tissue paper until my fingers—my bare, bent fingers—graze something smooth and rectangular. Bailey keeps rambling while I pull it out.
“It’s my new favorite book, and Ineedsomeone to talk about it with, so I nominated you,” she explains.
I turn the paperback over in my hands: a gorgeous lilac cover with an illustration of two voluptuous Victorian women, both dramatically posed, clearly on the verge of making lust-driven decisions. A grin breaks across my face as I look back up at her.
“You’re kidding!” I exclaim, and instantly regret it as a jolt of soreness branches out in my chest like bolts of lightning. I wince. Bailey catches it and flashes me an apologetic look, but doesn’t hold it for too long. She just waits for me to be ready to finish. “I’ve been dying to read this.”
“Well, you better hurry up, becauseIam dying to talk about it.” She grins sunbeams, pulling her knees up on the bed.
