Page 72 of The Callahan Effect

Dad stepped forward and folded me into his arms. I rested my face against his chest and for the first time since I'd left the arena, tears flowed. I felt a few of the players pat my back.

Hours passed before the surgeon finally appeared, still wearing surgical scrubs and removing her cap as she approached. I was on my feet before she reached me.

"The operation went well. Mason is still recovering from the anesthetic, but everything went as we'd hoped. "The wound was long but relatively shallow, and there was minimal tendon or vascular damage. We repaired it successfully, and we'll keep him here for several days for observation."

Relief weakened my knees enough that I had to grip the back of the nearest chair.

Can I see him?

"Of course." She glanced around the others. "You lot will have to wait until he's moved into a private room in the morning.

"That's okay, Dr., we have a win to celebrate. We'll be back tomorrow." To me Oscar said, "Tell him we won 4-3."

I watched as they all filed from the waiting room leaving Dad and I alone.

"Do you want me to stay?"

No. I'm going to stay with him so go home and get some rest.

Dad kissed my forehead, and after he left I sent Corey a text updating him before heading to Mason's bedside. One of the ICU nurses met me beside his bay.

"He's stable, Jack. No changes."

The lights had been dimmed, leaving only the soft glow from the nurses' station and the monitors beside his bed. Mason rested against crisp white pillows, a broad bandage wrapping the side of his head where the stick had struck him. An IV line disappeared beneath the sleeve of his hospital gown, cardiac monitor leads emerged from beneath the blanket covering him, and every few seconds the monitor beside the bed marked another steady heartbeat. Seeing him lying so still, surrounded by medical equipment instead of hockey gear, tightened something deep inside my chest.

I pulled a chair closer, sat beside him, and wrapped my fingers securely around his hand.

I'm here.

The hours slipped by almost unnoticed.

Now and again a nurse approached to check his observations, examine the dressings, adjust medication, or shine a small penlight into his eyes before recording another set of numbers on the chart. Between those visits the bay returned to its usual state, the heart monitor marking each second that passed with reassuring consistency.

Sleep never crossed my mind. Instead I watched the rise and fall of Mason's chest and found myself thinking back over the astonishing speed with which he'd changed my life.

A little over a month earlier Mason had been another name Dad hoped would strengthen the hockey program. Three weeks earlier he'd become my boyfriend. Tonight I'd come frighteningly close to losing him.

Oh, shelve the dramatics, Jack.

I'd spent years convincing myself I didn't deserve someone like Mason. Someone so open with his affection, so patient with my silence, so determined to understand me instead of trying to change me. The persistent doubts still lingered deep inside me, whispering that eventually he'd realize loving me required more effort than it was worth.

Watching him lying there erased every one of those thoughts.

If loving someone meant sitting beside a hospital bed through the longest night of my life, then I'd do it without hesitation.

If it meant helping him recover, supporting his career, standing beside him through victories and disappointments alike, I'd do that too.

Whatever the future demanded of me, I'd meet it willingly.

Because somewhere between the first time he'd smiled at me in the arena and tonight, I'd stopped imagining a future that didn't include him.

Mason's fingers twitched against mine before his eyelids fluttered weakly.

Relief flooded through me so suddenly I almost forgot to breathe.

His eyes opened a fraction, unfocused at first before slowly finding my face.

Confusion lingered there for several seconds.