Losing the Ice (Ice Series #2) (5 page)

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Authors: Jennifer Comeaux

Tags: #Contemporary, #Contemporary Romance, #ice skating

BOOK: Losing the Ice (Ice Series #2)
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I stood motionless with the water pitcher frozen in my hand, while Ronnie’s eyes doubled in size. “What was that?” he asked.

“He’s just… he’s upset because he doesn’t remember how to play right now. It must be an aftereffect of the concussion.”

“Damn, I wouldn’t have bugged the kid if I’d known.”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t know you were here or I would’ve given you a heads-up.”

He drummed his fingers on the bar. “It’s just temporary, right?”

“I’m sure it is.” I tried to make myself sound more confident than I felt.

Ronnie left to circle the room and greet the customers, and Mrs. Cassar soon joined me and asked, “Where’s Joshua?”

“Ronnie asked him to play a few songs, obviously not knowing his… condition, and he blew up and walked out.”

“Blew up? Joshua?” Her eyes grew as big as Ronnie’s had.

“It surprised me, too.”

She glanced at the door. “What’s he doing — standing in the rain?”

“I don’t know. Can you go check on him?”

She slipped on her coat and picked up her umbrella at the door. When neither she nor Josh returned after ten minutes, I assumed they’d gone home. Which meant Josh had left without saying goodbye.

Near the end of my shift I checked my phone and had no messages. I pulled up Josh’s number and typed a text.

Me:
Are you still up?

I stared at the screen until it went black, and I dropped it into my apron pocket. By the time I closed down the bar, I had a reply waiting.

Josh:
Yeah

Me:
Do you want some company?

I didn’t receive an answer until I was inside my car, buckling my seat belt.

Josh:
I wouldn’t be great company.

My heart pinched. I hated the idea of him being alone with nothing but worrisome thoughts filling his head.

Me:
We don’t have to talk. We can just watch a movie. I’m skating the late session tomorrow, so I can stay over.

Josh:
I haven’t been sleeping well, so you wouldn’t get much rest.

I put my head back against the seat.
Take a hint, Court. He doesn’t want you there. No matter how much you
want to be there for him.

Me:
Okay. I’ll stop by after I leave the rink tomorrow.

I waited for a response but got none. At least he hadn’t told me not to come.

When I reached Em and Sergei’s house, I quietly let myself in and turned off the kitchen light they’d left on for me. I took off my shoes and padded up the stairs to my room, where I grabbed my pajamas and headed straight for the shower. With the smell of food washed from my hair and skin, I snuggled under the thick comforter with my laptop and typed what I’d been worried about all night.

Effects of a concussion

The search engine spit out thousands of hits with something called Post-Concussion Syndrome or PCS for short. I clicked on one of the reputable medical sites and began to read.

Symptoms include
headaches,
anxiety, mood
swings, irritability, loss of concentration and memory, insomnia… usually occur within first seven
to ten days and can last
weeks…
may sometimes persist for
months or even years.

Years??

I chewed on my thumbnail as I clicked on another site.
That’s worst-case scenario. Don’t go there.

I found more of the same information on other sites, so I tried searching for instances of people who had suffered a concussion and had forgotten how to play a musical instrument. I couldn’t find anything, but there were many examples of patients who had problems with cognitive skills. Some indeed lasting years.

I shut the laptop and shoved it to the empty side of the bed.
Don’t get yourself worked up.
Every case is different. Josh could start to feel better in a few days.

But I was officially concerned.

Chapter Five

 

“Your turn, Coco.” Quinn shook my knee.

I looked up from the Candy Land game board at four-year-old Quinn and her twin brother Alex. I’d spaced out somewhere between Peppermint Forest and Gumdrop Pass. My mind was on Josh and his doctor appointment. Em and Sergei had gone with him, so I was babysitting the twins. The house smelled like the pumpkin pie Em had baked for her family’s Thanksgiving feast the next day.

“Let’s see if I can get lucky,” I said as I picked a card from the pile.

Alex leaned into me to see my card. “You go two blue squares.”

“That’s right.” I moved my gingerbread man marker across the board and cuddled Alex to my side. “Better watch out. I’m catching up to you.”

He shook his little blond head. “You not gonna catch me.”

“I gonna beat you
and
Coco,” Quinn announced.

The side door from the garage opened, and Josh, Em, and Sergei entered the kitchen, none of them wearing the smiles I’d hoped to see.

“Josh!” Quinn scrambled up from the living room carpet and ran toward him.

He crouched to hug her, and Quinn threw herself around him, almost tipping him backward.

“Be careful, Sweetie,” Em said.

Quinn looked at Josh and petted his hair. “Your head hurt?”

He smiled a little. “It’s getting better.”

Alex raced over and latched onto Josh’s arm. “Come see my new truck, Josh.”

“Let’s give him some space to breathe, okay?” Em said.

“It’s fine,” Josh said.

He let Alex lead him to the stairs, and Quinn followed right on their heels. Meanwhile, I joined Em and Sergei in the kitchen.

“What did the doctor say?” I asked.

“He did some testing, and he wants Josh to take it easy a while longer,” Sergei said. “He’s encouraged the headaches are fewer and farther between. Next Friday he’ll evaluate him again to see if he can start driving and doing light workouts.”

Em opened one of the cabinets and pulled out a large skillet. “I told Josh even if he gets cleared to skate, I don’t want him on the ice without Sergei and me there. He can start on the bike in the gym.”

“Why won’t you be there?”

“We’re going to China right after the Christmas show, remember?”

“Oh, yeah.” I’d forgotten they had a junior team competing in the Grand Prix Final, plus Sergei’s sixteen-year-old daughter Liza had qualified at the senior level.

“Did the doctor say anything about Josh’s memory and not being able to play the piano?” I asked.

“He suggested Josh should start slowly and do simple lessons like he gives his students. He thinks it could help him remember and recover the skill he already has.”

“Does he think there’s any chance he won’t recover it?” I gripped the edge of the granite island.

Em stopped in the middle of gathering ingredients from the fridge and came over to touch my arm. “He’s been playing for so long. I know it’s going to come back to him.”

“I think it’s really stressing him out, and that’s just making things worse,” I said.

“The doctor did say stress can lengthen the recovery, so anything you can do to get Josh to relax would be a huge help,” Em said.

“We tried to focus on all the positives with him, but he was pretty wound up at the doctor,” Sergei said.

Josh had been so moody the past week that I didn’t know if anything could relax him. And from the tense look on his face as he descended the stairs, spending time with the jabbering twins wasn’t the answer.

“Coco, come finish the game,” Quinn said.

“You play too, Josh.” Alex tugged on his hand.

Josh loved playing with Quinn and Alex, but probably not so much right now. They weren’t exactly the best medicine for a headache.

“Josh needs to rest, so I’m gonna bring him home,” I said.

“You’re sure you don’t want to stay for dinner?” Em held up a package of tortillas. “It’s taco night.”

“Thanks, but I am kinda tired,” Josh said.

“But we have to finish the game,” Quinn whined.

“I’ll take Court’s place.” Sergei stretched his long legs over the carpet. “Which marker is hers?”

“She green,” Alex said.

I turned to Josh. “I just need to get my bag upstairs.”

“Your bag?”

“I figured I’d stay over since we’re driving to my parents’ tomorrow morning.”

He ushered me away from Sergei and the twins. “I’ve told you I don’t sleep well. I’m up and down all night.”

“I don’t mind. I’ll take a restless night of sleep if it means being next to you.” I fiddled with the zipper on his jacket. “I miss you.”

He avoided my gaze and hesitated a few moments. “Okay.”

A little jab nicked my heart. I’d never thought I would have to talk Josh into letting me spend the night with him. I knew he wasn’t himself, but it was still hard to feel him being so distant.

I hurried to my room and back before Josh could change his mind. He was silent all the way down Route Twenty-Eight, his head back and his eyes closed. When we reached Hyannis Port and I drove onto Mrs. Cassar’s quiet street, he finally came alive.

“I have to get back on the ice soon if we’re going to make it to nationals,” he said.

“We have two months. That’s definitely doable.”

“But we don’t have two months. Even if I’m cleared to skate next Friday, Em and Sergei said I can’t until they get back. That means the earliest I could start is almost three weeks from now.”

I pulled into Mrs. Cassar’s double driveway and shut off the engine. “We’d still have enough time to get ready. Don’t start stressing yet.”

His anxiety-filled silence showed he was continuing to worry, though. We walked around the main house to the backyard, and once we were inside he said, “You know Em and Sergei aren’t going to let me do any of the hard stuff right away, so we’ll really have a month at best to fully train our programs.”

“We’ll take it one day at a time.” I set my bag beside Josh’s big keyboard in the living room. “Making sure you’re healthy is the most important thing.”

He tossed his jacket over the couch. “We can’t miss nationals. Not after all the work we’ve put in.”

“Stressing yourself out isn’t going to help you get better.” I put my hands on his shoulders and felt just how tense he was. “You’re all knotted up.”

He let out a long, slow breath. “Playing the piano always helped.” His eyes flashed sadly at the keyboard. “Can’t do that anymore.”

I took both his hands in mine. “Come sit.”

I brought him to the sofa and turned him so I could sit behind him. Returning my hands to his shoulders, I massaged them with just the right amount of pressure. At first Josh remained rigid, but slowly his tight muscles began to loosen. He bent his head forward and groaned softly, and I scooted nearer to him. It felt so good to be so close to him and touching him. My lips stamped a tiny kiss on the nape of his neck, and my fingers kneaded their way down his back. I slipped one hand under his shirt, meeting his smooth skin, and he quickly jumped up from the couch.

“Court, don’t.”

“I was just trying to relax you.”

He backed farther away. “That’s not going to help me relax.”

“I’m sorry. I wanted to get your mind off everything—”

“When you touch me like that, there’s only one thing on my mind, and it’s yet another thing I can’t do right now.”

My eyes dropped to the sofa. “I didn’t mean to…”

“I know. I’m not mad at you. I’m just…” He rubbed his forehead. “Frustrated.”

The silence that followed couldn’t be more awkward, and it seemed to stretch on for days. When I couldn’t take it anymore, I went to the refrigerator.

“Do you want the leftover chicken?” I asked.

The tension hovered around us as we ate and continued afterward as we watched TV. We sat side by side, but there may as well have been a moat between us. There was none of the cuddling we usually did. I longed to get cozy against him but didn’t want him to yell at me again.

Josh let me take a shower first, and when I came out of the bathroom I saw he’d moved his pillow to the sofa.

“You don’t have to sleep out here,” I said. “I’m not going to touch you if that’s what you’re worried about.”

“No, I just don’t want to keep you up with all my tossing and turning.”

“You shouldn’t be all cramped on this small sofa. It’s not good for your head and neck.”

He turned down the TV volume with the remote. “I’m up most of the night, so it’s not like I’m sleeping in one spot.”

I leaned against the bedroom door frame. “Did you tell the doctor about your insomnia?”

“He said to let him know next week if it’s still bad.”

I frowned. It had already been bad for two weeks. Wasn’t that long enough to warrant a solution of some kind?

“I told you I don’t mind you tossing and turning next to me,” I said. “Just come lay down. You never know — tonight might be different.”

“I doubt it.” He went to the sink and poured a glass of water. “I’m going to end up out here watching TV anyway, so it’s better if I just camp here now.”

I was obviously not going to convince him otherwise. I pushed off from the door frame and shuffled over to Josh in my big fuzzy slippers.

“Guess this is goodnight, then,” I said.

He set down his glass and inched closer to me, and I buzzed with anticipation. His lips parted, his eyes on mine, and then… his kiss landed on my forehead. I sighed with resignation and retreated to the bedroom, where I curled up under the blanket and settled for only Josh’s scent surrounding me.

 

****

 

Even though I had the entire bed to myself, I didn’t sleep soundly. I kept dreaming about skating, but I couldn’t remember seeing Josh in any of my fitful dreams. Josh was dragging, too, as we got ready in the morning, and we were both bleary-eyed as we traveled to Boston.

Mom welcomed us to the apartment with long hugs, and my mouth watered from the smell of the roasting turkey. I gave Dad a kiss and checked out the festive autumn tablescape Mom had created on the small dining table. My parents had been forced to sell my childhood home on the Cape after Dad had lost his job, and holidays in the apartment just hadn’t felt the same. But Mom always did the best she could with her crafting skills in the limited space.

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