Chapter 188 Stay

Chapter 188 Stay
Lena’s POV

The emergency department moved with quiet efficiency. The medical staff wheeled Ryan through another set of doors while I followed beside him until a nurse stopped me outside the imaging room.

“I am sorry,” she said gently. “You have to wait here.”

Ryan looked at me before the doors closed. “I will be back.”

I forced a smile. “I know.”

The doors shut between us. For the next forty minutes, I stared at them more than I looked at anything else. Coach Hartman sat beside me with two cups of coffee, and he handed one to me.

“You should drink something.” He said.

“I am not thirsty,” I muttered.

“I did not ask if you were.” His voice carried the same calm authority he used behind the bench.
“You have been taking care of Ryan for weeks.” He looked at the untouched cup in my hands. “Someone has to make sure you do not forget to take care of yourself.”

I managed a small smile. “You sound like me.”

“I have listened to you long enough.” He said.

Before I could answer, the imaging room doors opened. Ryan was wheeled back into the hallway. His face looked tired, but the sharp panic I had seen after the accident had eased.

The orthopaedic surgeon joined us a few minutes later. “I have reviewed the scans.”

Ryan looked directly at him. “Tell me the truth.”

The doctor nodded. “I intend to.” He pulled up a chair so they were sitting at the same level. “The repair from your surgery is still intact.”

I let out a breath I had not realised I had been holding.

Ryan closed his eyes briefly. “But…”

The doctor’s expression remained serious. “You suffered significant trauma to the shoulder.”

Ryan nodded once. “I felt it.”

“The impact caused severe inflammation and strained several surrounding structures.” He pointed to one of the images on the screen “Nothing appears to have torn again.”

Ryan asked the question that mattered to him. “Will I recover?”

“I believe you will.” The doctor paused before continuing. “You must understand that another impact like this during recovery could permanently damage the joint.”

The room fell silent.

Ryan looked at the scan. “How long?”

“Your rehabilitation will take longer than we originally expected.” The doctor said.

Ryan lowered his head. “I understand.”

“No.” The surgeon’s voice stayed firm. “I do not think you do.”

Ryan looked back at him.

“You are at a crossroads.” He folded his hands. “You can recover well if you respect the process.” He let those words settle. “If you rush back again, you may lose more than one season.”

Ryan remained quiet.

“You may lose the ability to play at the level you expect from yourself.” The doctor stood. “I will leave you both alone for a while.”

As soon as the door closed behind him, the room became very still. Ryan stared out the window. Neither of us spoke for almost a minute.

Finally, he broke the silence. “I keep finding new ways to make your life harder,” he said.

I turned toward him. “Do not say that.”

“It is true.” He said.

“No,” I whispered.

He looked at me. “I brought you back to another hospital, you left hospital;inic, your comfort, and everything just to be with me..”

“You didn't choose what happened,” I whispered.

“I still hate that you have to watch it.” He said.

I moved my chair closer until I could reach his hand. “I would rather sit beside you in a hospital than wonder where you are.”

He looked down at our hands. “I do not deserve you.”

I squeezed his fingers. “You have to stop saying things like that.”

His smile was faint. “I am serious.”

“So am I,” I whispered.

He met my eyes. “You have given up so much.”

“I made my own choices,” I whispered.

“You missed work.” He said.

“I can return,” I whispered.

“You stopped sleeping.” He said.

“I will catch up,” I whispered.

“You keep carrying my fears,” I whispered. He whispered.

“I carry them because I love you,” I whispered.

His eyes filled with emotion. “I never wanted love to cost you this much.”

“It has never been a cost,” I whispered.

He looked away. “I know who I am only if I can play.” His words were quiet. “They scare me.”

I nodded. “I know.”

“I have spent my entire life chasing hockey.” He laughed softly, but there was no joy in it. “I do not even remember what my life looked like before it.”

I waited before answering, then I asked the question that had been sitting in my heart for days. “Ryan.”

He turned back toward me. “Yes?”

I held his gaze. “I need you to answer me honestly.”

“I will.” He said.

I took a slow breath. “Is hockey worth losing yourself?”

The question stayed between us. Ryan did not answer immediately, he looked at his inimmediately; er. Then he looked back at me. When he finally spoke, his voice was barely above a whisper.

“I do not know anymore.” He said.

Tears filled my eyes, but I did not look away. “I fell in love with the man who happened to play hockey.” I tightened my hold on his hand. “I did not fall in love with hockey.”

His eyes searched mine.

“If the game asks you to stop being the man you are…” My voice trembled, but I finished the sentence. “…then I do not want the game to win.”

Ryan closed his eyes. A single tear slipped down his cheek. “I have been asking myself that question ever since the surgery.” He opened his eyes again. “For the first time in my life…” He paused. “I am afraid the answer might change everything.”

Before I could respond, someone knocked sharply on the hospital door. The surgeon stepped back inside with a folder in his hand. His expression had changed. “I just received another report.”

Ryan straightened carefully. “What report?”

The surgeon looked directly at him. “It is about the collision.” He opened the folder. “Our security team reviewed every camera angle.”
He paused. “They do not believe what happened was an accident.”

The room fell silent.

Ryan stared at the surgeon. “What do you mean?”

The surgeon placed several printed photographs on the bedside table. “Our security department reviewed footage from six different cameras.”

I leaned forward.

The first photographs showed the television cameraman backing away from the bench. The next images showed the heavy camera rig beginning to roll. Nothing looked unusual until the final sequence.

The surgeon pointed to one frame. “Someone released the safety brake.”

Ryan frowned. “The cameraman did not do that?”

“No.” The surgeon shook his head. “The brake was released from the side of the equipment.”

I looked closer. A person in an arena staff jacket stood partly hidden behind the camera rig, their face obscured by another piece of equipment.

“Can you identify them?” I asked.

“Not yet,” the surgeon replied. “The image is not clear enough.”

Ryan looked at the photographs again. “So the rookie was never the target.”

The surgeon met his eyes. “We cannot say that with certainty.” He paused before adding, “However, the timing suggests that whoever released the brake knew exactly where you were standing.”

A chill ran through me. It was clear that someone had been watching Ryan closely. Someone had anticipated his instinct to protect a teammate, and that meant the collision might never have been random. It might have been planned.