The Games We Play

Jonathan swallowed down the dry lump that had formed in his throat. He’d felt so guilty when he heard about what happened to Lacey at her game and beat himself up for not being there in time for her. So he got to the hospital and sat by her side as she slept for hours on end until Patrick relieved him and told him to get something to eat.

“You didn’t sleep at all, did you?” he had asked once he saw Jonathan slumped in his chair, his tired eyes doing their best not to close.

“I couldn’t,” he replied. “I was too worried.”

“She’ll be fine,” Patrick had told him. “Go and get something to eat, maybe a coffee. She’ll still be here when you come back.”

Jonathan obliged and went to go get something to wake himself up. When he returned to the room, Lacey was awake and Patrick was on his way out.

“Finally awake?” he’d asked as he approached the bed. Lacey smiled a little, but then winced as she shifted under the covers. “Don’t move too much, you’ll just hurt yourself more.”

“I’m fine,” she said, sitting up. Lacey sighed and stared at her ankle. “Stupid injury, huh?”

Jonathan put his hand over hers. “Maybe just a little.” After a few seconds, he added, “Nice cast.”

Lacey sat up more, grabbed her pillow with her right hand and smacked Jonathan square in the face. He wanted to retaliate, but instead just burst out laughing. Lacey saw the look on his face and started laughing too.

“You’re just taking cheap shots because you know I can’t fight back,” Jonathan pretended to whine, putting the pillow back where it belonged. “How do you feel?”

“I guess I’m alright,” she shrugged slightly, her shoulder still sore and bandaged. “I’m going to be out for the rest of the playoffs, though. How about you?”

“I’m alright,” he answered. “Just...I was really worried for you, Lace. I’m really sorry I wasn’t there.”

“No, it isn’t your fault,” she smiled softly. “I mean, I told you to stay away, right? It was my own doing. And my own fault for getting injured, for not paying attention.”

“I know it feels like the end of the world when you can’t play,” Jonathan offered. “Trust me, I’ve been there enough times to recognize the feeling. But you’ll heal. The body is a resilient thing. You may not be able to finish this season, but you’ve still got your senior year, if anything.”

Lacey nodded, looking down at her hands, fiddling with her fingers. After a few seconds of silence, she spoke up. “Are we ever going to talk about what happened on Sunday?”

Jonathan looked at her meekly. “I guess we can’t avoid it.”

“I don’t want to sound whiney or condescending,” Lacey sighed. “I just...I guess when I saw you attack Patrick in the locker room that day, I was just disappointed in you. Because you promised me you wouldn’t hurt him and you broke that promise.”

Jonathan felt guilt weighing down on his shoulders. “I didn’t want to, but you heard what he was saying, Lace.”

“I know, and I’m not saying that Patrick was right,” she clarified. “But I’m just saying that fist fighting about it isn’t the answer. This isn’t hockey, it’s not soccer, this is real life. Not everything can be solved by scoring goals and beating up your opponents until they scream for mercy.”

Jonathan held onto Lacey’s hand and gave it a small squeeze. “If I could go back and stop myself, I would.”

Lacey interlaced their fingers. “I know. And I know that you mean it. I’m just...it’s just sad that it happened, you know? You two are best friends. Any time best friends fight like that, it’s always upsetting.” She sighed. “I guess maybe it’s the girl in me. Whenever my sisters and I would fight I would always get so upset and they’d call me a crybaby for it. But I just hate seeing loved ones arguing, much less throwing fists.”

Jonathan smiled at how cherubic and almost childlike Lacey’s face looked as the warmth of the sun gave her skin and hair a golden glow. Without thinking he leaned over and kissed her on the cheek. She blushed profusely.

“What was that for?”

He shrugged, the smile never once leaving his face. “No reason.”

Lacey was about to die from cuteness when a nurse came in with some food. “Here’s your breakfast, sweetie,” she beamed, taking the moveable tray and setting it up comfortably in front of her. “After you’re done eating, we can fill out your discharge papers. We only needed to keep you here overnight for observation, and now that we know you’re okay, you can head on home.”

“Awesome, thank you,” Lacey replied gratefully as the nurse nodded and exited the room.

“Do you need a lift home?” Jonathan offered. “I can drive you.”

“In all honesty, I think you need a nap,” Lacey chuckled. “You look like you’re in worse shape than me. And I just went and broke my ankle because I’m an idiot.”

“Stop calling yourself an idiot,” Jonathan ordered, wagging his finger in front of Lacey’s face. “Don’t make me break the other ankle.”

Lacey smirked defiantly. “You’re all talk, Toews.”

“I know,” he chuckled, placing a soft kiss on her lips. “Besides, you know I would never hurt you. Right?” He rested his forehead against Lacey’s and she sighed quietly.

“I know.”

After a few seconds of quiet bliss, Jonathan spoke up. “Patrick and I apologized to each other. Did he tell you that already?”

“Yeah,” Lacey said. “Glad you guys chose to be adults about this.”

Jonathan laughed a bit. “Yeah, we kind of had to though. We don’t know who we’re playing in the finals yet. Could be either Montreal or Philadelphia...either way, we just might need him.”

Lacey had to laugh too. “Yeah, you just might.”

* * * *

Patrick ended up driving both Lacey and Jonathan back to Lacey’s apartment in the late afternoon. The entire car ride, Lacey couldn’t believe how civil they were being to one another. They must have really meant it when they told her that they’d made up.

It’s the hockey thing, she decided. Everyone in the NHL gets into fist fights with one another, and as soon as they step off the ice, they’re all best friends.

Lacey opened the door to her apartment and ushered Jonathan inside.

“Can we nap?” he asked, looking like a sleepy little boy, rubbing his tired eyes and stretching his arms out with a yawn. Lacey almost melted again into the floorboards.

“Yeah. I’m tired, too.”

Lacey and Jonathan both hobbled to her bedroom and Jonathan flopped onto the bed as Lacey closed the curtains. Once she joined him, Jonathan grabbed the covers and tugged them over their shoulders, pulling her body close to his from beneath the sheets.

She snuggled right into the crook of his neck as his arm draped over her. “You’re better than a body pillow,” she decided. “And you smell really good.”

When Jonathan didn’t respond, she looked up a little bit and noticed that his eyes were closed and his breathing was even.

She chuckled to herself, running a hand through his short hair. “You must have been really tired, huh?” Lacey asked, though she knew he wouldn’t answer. “Thanks for being there for me, Jon.”

Lacey peered around the room, as if she was making sure that no one was watching her. Then she rose slightly so that she was propped up on her elbow, leaned over and kissed Jonathan on the cheek and then whispered into his ear, “I love you.”

Then she laid back down and relaxed back into Jonathan’s arms. Closing her eyes, she soon lulled off to sleep.

In the darkness of Lacey’s bedroom, Jonathan cracked an eye open and bit back a smile.