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JOSH
Laura had been in long–term care for a week, and so far, things were steady. Better than steady, even, considering the circumstances. The respiratory therapist said her lungs were improving, and the physiotherapist was working on keeping her body from succumbing to stiffness. Small victories, but victories nonetheless.
I’d done everything I could to make the room feel more like home–her favorite pillow, the scent of her perfume faintly lingering in the air, and her music softly playing in the background. It wasn’t much, but it was Laura. Pieces of her that I hoped would remind her, wherever she was, of the life waiting for her.
Asha had taken to the routine better than I expected. Jess had been a lifesaver, keeping her happy and cared for while I balanced the hospital and practice with Luke.
This weekend, though, was different. Playoffs were here, and for the first time since this nightmare began, I wouldn’t be by Laura’s side.
I sat beside her bed, my hands fidgeting with hers. Her fingers were warm but unresponsive, resting limp in mine. The steady beep of the monitors filled the silence, each one a reminder of the battle her body was fighting.
“Laura,” I began, my voice thick with emotion. “I promise you, if I
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could, I’d be right here with you this weekend. But I need to play, babe.
I paused, brushing my thumb over the back of her hand. “Asha deserves the best, and this dad–he needs to work. You’d understand that, wouldn’t you? I know you would. You’ve always been the strong one, always knew what had to be done, even when it was hard.”
My voice cracked, but I pressed on. “I love you, Laura. I love you so damn much. And I’ll be back here sooner than you think. I’ll play my heart out for you, for Asha, for us.”
Leaning forward, I kissed her forehead gently, lingering for a moment. The scent of her shampoo still faintly clung to her hair, a comfort and a heartbreak all at once.
I stood, running a hand through my hair as I straightened up. The weight of leaving her–even for just a couple of days- pressed heavily on my chest.
“Keep fighting, okay?” I whispered, my voice barely audible over the hum of the machines. “You’ve got this. We’ve got this. And when you’re ready, I’ll be here. Always.”
Walking out of Laura’s room never got easier. Every step down that hallway felt heavier than the last, like I was dragging a part of myself away from her. I shoved my hands into my pockets, my mind spinning with the usual whirlwind of guilt, hope, and frustration.
I wasn’t paying attention–too wrapped up in my own head- when I rounded the corner and smacked right into someone.
A loud thud sounded as the person’s clipboard hit the floor,
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scattering papers everywhere.
288 voucher
“Shit, I’m so sorry,” I said, immediately crouching down to grab the papers.
“Ah, no, it’s fine! I wasn’t looking where I was going either,” a soft voice replied, just as the owner of it knelt down too.
Our heads collided with a dull bonk.
“Damn it,” I hissed, grabbing my forehead.
“Oh my God, are you okay?” she asked, her voice tinged with
concern.
Hooked up, wincing, and froze. Those massive blue eyes. That long, blond ponytail. For a split second, my brain played tricks on me, and I thought it was Laura kneeling there. But as the world came back into focus, I realized it wasn’t her.
It was the nurse. That nurse.
She smiled, her cheeks slightly pink. “Guess I’m not doing great at keeping my charts together.”
I blinked, still crouched there like an idiot. “Uh… yeah.”
What the hell was wrong with me? I shook my head and reached out, grabbing the papers and shoving them toward her, a little too forcefully.
“Here,” I muttered.
She laughed lightly, tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear as she took the charts: “Thanks.”
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1288 Vouchers.
“Yeah,” I said, standing up and stepping back, running a hand through my hair.
I couldn’t even bring myself to make eye contact again. Without another word, I turned on my heel and walked away, quickening my pace as I headed down the hall.
What the hell just happened?
I practically shoved open the stairwell door, leaning against the wall for a second to collect myself. That was the second time I’d run into her, and both times, I’d somehow managed to make it more awkward than the last.
Her smile flashed in my mind, and I groaned, rubbing my hands over my face.
“Get it together, man,” I muttered under my breath before pushing off the wall and heading out.
I had bigger things to worry about than awkward run–ins with overly friendly nurses who, for some reason, looked way too much like Laura.
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