Game Changer (17 page)

“Yup. Loud and proud.” She smiled at Harper. “And I think my first order of business is to buy myself some flowers, too. I can't remember the last time I got any.”

“Then you're overdue.”

“Damn right. This is our year, Harper. It's time for us to take control of our own happiness.”

Brandon's time in the hospital with Harper was spent in a never-ending cycle of cajoling her to nap, nurse visits, and meandering conversations with her, Presley, and Kayla. She'd expressly asked everyone else to wait until she was settled at home before visiting and they obliged her that wish, for which she'd expressed her relief more than once.

Two days after her release from the hospital, on Brandon's last day in town, Brandon, Kayla, and Harper were in the middle of a fierce game of Monopoly at Harper's kitchen table when Dr. Nguyen called.

Brandon thought his heart stopped beating as he watched Harper's blank expression while she listened to the doctor over the phone. He stopped breathing. Then she blinked, her expression cracking.

“No cancer,” she said. Her gaze went to Brandon. “No cancer.”

Swallowing a rush of nausea that hit him from out of left field, he pushed up from the table and stuffed his fists into his pockets, then walked to the window to get some air. Until that moment, he hadn't allowed himself to contemplate the alternative. My God, what if she'd had cancer? What if she hadn't been okay?

He wouldn't have been able to stand the idea of her going through cancer treatment while he reveled in Miami on a dating show. He would've had to break his
Meet the Groom
contract and quit the show.

When he'd made the decision to move to Miami, he'd thought he'd never talk to her again. A clean break. But something huge had shifted inside of him since the night he'd failed miserably as her lover—a metamorphosis that had completed during Harper's first night in the hospital, as he'd held her while she cried. They'd bonded in an irrevocable way. He'd never truly had a platonic female friend before, but he couldn't imagine his life without Harper now.

He closed his eyes. She didn't have cancer. She would forever live with a heightened risk of getting it because of her BRCA1 gene, but she was clear for now.

A hand touched his back. “Hey,” Harper said.

He angled his head, pressing his lips to his shoulder as he met her gaze. “You cheated death. You realize that, right?”

That made her smile. “Just like you.”

Yes and no, because the specter of death hadn't hovered over his life the way it had hers, year after year as she watched the same illness kill off the other women in her family. He worked his arm around her waist as he turned and gathered her up against him, his embrace loose so as not to aggravate her incisions. “There's nothing holding you back now. You're going to take on the world.”

Sniffing, she wiped the knuckle of her thumb across the corner of her eye, removing the evidence of her emotion. “I thought I'd get started on that tonight by tagging along to Bomb Squad's game with you and Kayla.”

As much as he wanted to encourage her to be bold, she was still only five days out of surgery. “Are you sure you're up for that?”

“I don't have to stay the whole time, but I want to get my first appearance in public without boobs over with. My head held high. I want to show everyone that the surgery didn't shake me.”

“I think that's badass,” Kayla said. “You should totally do it. We can time your pain meds so that sitting in the cold on those hard chairs isn't too uncomfortable. And then I can bring you back home when you've had enough.”

These past four days since he'd returned to Destiny Falls, Kayla had demonstrated a maturity that had surprised him. Living with Harper, helping her out, had brought out her inner caregiver and Brandon had to admit he was impressed. Presley and Harper's other friends were helpful and supportive, but Brandon felt better about leaving the next morning knowing that Kayla was right there in Harper's apartment with her to remind her to rest, keep track of her pain meds, and lend a hand for whatever Harper needed, which right now was a lot, since she still had trouble lifting her arms over her head.

Harper's smile lit up the room. “That's going to be great. And we still have time for me to finish kicking your butts in Monopoly first.”

Brandon hated to be the party pooper, but— “Or you could take a nap so you're well rested and ready to go for tonight.”

She wrinkled her nose at him. “That's no fun.”

Kayla raised her arm and pointed at Harper's bedroom. “I vote nap.”

Brandon pointed his finger, too. “Kayla and I agree.” After a split-second of debate, he added, “Surfboard.”

That got her attention. “What did you call me?”

Kayla crossed her arms over her chest. “Not cool.”

Brandon shrugged. “Joking takes away its power. Trust me on that. So you've got a flat chest, like a surfboard. Big deal. You can call me Stumpy if you want.”

To his relief, she grinned. “Surfboard and stumpy. What are we—the seven dwarves' long-lost cousins?”

“At least we don't work in the mines like they do.”

“Always with the silver lining.”

“It's a gift. But enough of that.” He walked to her bedroom door and pushed it open all the way. “In you go. The tribe has spoken. You need to get some rest.”

She trudged toward him with mock-glumness. “Stupid tribe. Bossing me around in my own brick fortress.”

He grabbed her hand as she brushed by. “Hey.”

She squeezed his hand back and looked at him expectantly, which was about the time he realized that he had no idea what he'd been planning to say.

Kiss her.

No. Not that.

“Sweet dreams, baby. The world will still be here waiting for you when you wake up.”

Four hours later, Kayla, Brandon, and Harper arrived at the Iceplex, with Kayla driving. She dropped Brandon and Harper off at the main door before going to find parking.

Harper walked up the steps gingerly, but didn't seem to be in pain. “You're moving pretty good, all things considered.”

“Are you kidding? Compared to ovarian surgery, this is a walk in the park. The mastectomy didn't involve any organs or require the surgeons to root around in my body. I was skeptical when I read on a mastectomy support forum that recovery happens fast, especially for those of us who don't get reconstructive procedures done at the same time, but they were right.”

By the time he paid the small fee for three tickets, Kayla had joined them. Flanking Harper, they walked inside. He'd been to other hockey games there as a spectator, watching teams that played on different nights of the week than Bomb Squad, but this was his first time sitting in the stands for a Bomb Squad game since his first week in town five years earlier.

He'd never forget the way it'd felt that first time to watch a team of veterans just like him. Elijah had caught his attention first, skating on a prosthetic leg and operating a customized prosthetic hand to hold his stick. At the time, Brandon had no idea that kind of thing was possible. Before that week, he'd been dragged down by the atmosphere at the VA rehab center near his house, the lack of hope in the disabled vets around him.

But there on the ice in Destiny Falls was a whole team of soldiers like him, dressed in red, white, and blue jerseys, playing one of the most physically demanding sports in the world like it was nothing. They didn't let their disabilities slow them down or keep them from living normal lives or from exceeding the ho-hum existence of a normal life. Watching Bomb Squad that first time had felt like coming home.

Tonight, he and Kayla had timed their arrival as close to the puck drop as possible so Harper didn't tire out before game play had barely gotten going. Bomb Squad and the Puck Daddies were already lined up on the blue line for the singing on the national anthem by one of the Destiny Falls High School students regularly tapped for the job.

They moved toward the bleachers behind the scorekeeper's table where Olivia now sat, the team's new scorekeeper, and where the rest of Harper's friends were saving Harper, Kayla, and Brandon seats.

“Is this strange for you?” Harper asked Brandon.

“Little bit. Makes me homesick, which is ridiculous because I've only been gone for eight days so far.”

They were nearly to their seats when the Canal Town's men's league president approached them. “Brandon, this is unexpected. Great to see you, man.” They shook hands. “What happened with that show you were doing? Did it get canceled?”

“No, it's still on. Just visiting Harper for a few days.”

“Understood, and you're just the person I came to see, Harper. I got your message earlier today about joining our roster of referees. As soon as you're well again, you let me know and we'll get you up to speed on training. We can always use more refs and we're happy to have you on board. Our first woman ref. It's a great start. Maybe you'll inspire others.”

Harper gave a little fist pump down by her side. “Thank you. I can't wait.”

“We'll probably start you off with the senior league on Tuesday afternoons, if that works for you. Nice and slow, to get your feet wet.”

“Perfect,” she said. “Thank you again.”

Brandon rolled his tongue along the inside of his teeth as he battled back a wave of jealousy that all their friends would get to watch her shining moment while he was stuck in Miami. He should be in that senior league crowd, leading the cheer for her.

After the league president had moved on, off to rub shoulders with another league board member, Brandon draped an arm across Harper's shoulders. “Another bliss list victory and you've only been out of surgery for four days.”

Her triumphant smile made him forget his train of thought, his jealously, everything. “I've got a lot to living to do. There's no time to waste.”

Harper's friends had seen them coming and helped her through the aisle to the front row where a padded bleacher seat waited, tucking a blanket over her legs and fussing and clucking over her like a bunch of hens. Though Brandon appreciated them going the extra mile to make sure Harper was comfortable, he still cringed inwardly; Harper hated being fussed over like she was helpless. Props to her, though, because she endured it well, with only a brief protest or two.

It wasn't long before the Bomb Squad players noticed Harper in the stands. After the national anthem, when the teams were skating one last warm-up, they slowed in front of the scorekeeper's table, remarking about how great Harper looked and thanking her for being there. She beamed, sitting taller with each compliment.

When the buzzer sounded and Theo skated to center ice to take the first puck drop of the game, Harper tried to clap once. “Ow. Won't be doing that again anytime soon.”

“I'll cheer for both of us,” Kayla said.

Brandon snorted. “Just don't do the bouncy thing again.”

Kayla didn't seem to have heard him, but Harper rewarded him with a withering look that would have leveled a lesser man.

The Puck Daddies were a well-oiled machine, but Bomb Squad brought their A game that night. Though the Daddies won the first face-off, their offense was no match for Liam, Will, and Elijah. After Liam deflected a weak shot on goal, he fed the puck to Will, who muscled through two defensemen. It was obvious to Brandon that Will's singular focus was on getting the puck to Theo and Nathan at the crease, which was why he didn't see number forty-seven on the Puck Daddies coming at him hard from the side.

Will and number forty-seven tussled against the boards for control of the puck. Will kicked the puck out from the wall and lunged forward in pursuit, but forty-seven grabbed his jersey. Will turned, cursing, which was when the Puck Daddies player's elbow flew up and smacked Will in the nose.

A whistle stopped game play. Brandon fully expected Will to ignore the whistle and retaliate, seeing as how his nose was a bloody mess, but he skated to the bench instead and took the towel that Duke offered him. Good on him. Maybe Will's trigger temper was fading. One could hope.

Kayla stood, angling for a better view of the team bench, concern etched on her face. “Do you think he's okay?”

“Not sure,” Harper said. “He didn't fight back.”

A holding penalty was issued for the Puck Daddies player and he took a seat in the penalty box. Bomb Squad's best players poured through the team bench's door and onto the ice.

Will stood, the towel nowhere to be seen. He had blood in his beard and on his lips, but he was smiling. “This power play's for Harper!” he bellowed from the bench. “Get 'er done, Squad. Break this game open!”

Nice job, Will.
Fighting would've sent him to the penalty box, too, but he held back for Harper. Brandon had never been so proud of his friend. When Will sat again, Brandon flashed him a thumbs-up from across the rink, which Will acknowledged with a nod.

It took only twenty-one seconds of the power play for Theo to get the puck, pass it to Nathan, who set up a perfect shot for Theo, who then slapped it into the upper left corner of the net. The whole arena shot to their feet, cheering. Kayla bounced, but she wasn't the only one, and the guys on the team were too busy with their own celebrating to notice. Even Harper rose.

“Sit the hell down, surfboard,” Brandon told her.

“But that was great hockey.” Still, she did as he said.

Brandon retrieved the blanket that had fallen to the floor and wrapped it around her legs again, tucking it in against her thighs.

“You'd better be careful,” she said, a tired smile on her lips. “If word starts to spread about how sweet you are underneath all those muscles, you're going to have women falling all over you.” She rolled her eyes in mock-dramatic fashion. “Oh, wait, you already do.”

He tweaked her nose. “You're such a dork.”

“Oh, now, stop it with all the compliments. You're making me blush.”

Chuckling, he put his arm around her and settled in to watch the game.

Bomb Squad's momentum continued. They contained most of the action in front of the Daddies' net, racking up thirteen shots-on-goal, most of them quality, with the score two- to nothing after fifteen minutes of play. It was the oddest thing, being in the stands like that, watching his team from the bleachers. More surreal than he'd anticipated. He kept thinking about what he'd have done if he'd been on the ice—the passes he would've made, the shots he would've taken, and the plays he would've called as the team captain.