Worth the Fall (5 page)

“Stevie has all your crap like that.”

Oh. But still, how would she know what Lizzie
’s stepson collected unless—

“
He insisted on showing off all his Pete Ryan paraphernalia when I was over for dinner one night.”

The woman was never going to give an inch where he was concerned. A lesson he
’d learned long, long ago. But had recently forgotten.

“
I think there would probably be more than just a bobblehead. How many years have you been playing?” she asked.

They graduated from high school the same year, though she from Hancock and he from Houghton. They graduated from college the same year, though she with honors and he just squeaking through. They
’d both begun their careers right after, though she went on for more degrees and he played a game for a living.

She knew damn well how many years he
’d been in the NHL. Didn’t she?

“
Fifteen.”

“
Right. That’s a long time for hockey, isn’t it?”

“
For a defenseman, yeah.”

“
And all those years with just one team. That—”

“
I wasn’t with the Red Wings the whole time. I got traded and then traded back.” Christ, she really had no idea, did she? She’d been hanging with Katie and Ron up here all those years, and Petey knew they kept a close eye on his career. They wouldn’t have mentioned that one of their closest friends now lived in a different city, played for a different team? Had missed the Stanley Cup years with the Red Wings?

Or was she playing him? Is this what she did with her patients? To do what—throw them off? Get them to open up more?

He needed to get her off this patient tactic she was taking with him before she started spouting words like “closure” and “acceptance.”

He was not one of her patients. Had she moaned and arched while underneath one of her patients? Not damn likely.

“So. You and Doc Thompson? What’s going on there? Fuck him yet?”

Her head came back and she pulled out of shrink mode. She blinked those huge brown peepers a couple of times.
Yeah, that’s right. I’m not some poor sap who needs the couch
. He sat up a bit straighter, though it sent a flash of pain through him, and waited for her to hiss and spit like the wildcat he knew she could be.

“
As if I’d tell you.”

“
Hmm, normally I’d say that meant yes. But with you….”

“
Shut up. You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“
Then set me straight. You and the good doctor….”

She looked like she wanted to spar with him, then he saw her glance at his knee and he knew the instant she decided to go easy on him.
Oh, hell no
.

“
He’s totally your type, you know. Safe. Boring.”

“
Educated. Civilized.”

There she was.

“If you like that sort of thing.”

She snorted a small laugh, and that familiar feeling he got whenever they verbally went at it came over him. Like her jabs were small tokens of affection.

“I do. I do like that sort of thing,” she said quietly.

Or like small daggers to the soul.

“Listen, Al—” he began, not really sure where he was going, but also not sure how much of their seesaw he could take right now. He didn’t get the chance to finish as the doctor chose that moment to make his way back into the area, chart and printouts in hand.

“
Mr. Ryan, you were right. It is the ACL
and
the meniscus. You really did a number on this knee.” He turned to the nurse who’d come from the desk area to join them. “Let’s get some Percocet for Mr. Ryan right away.”

“
That’s not necessary,” he said.

The doc shook the papers in his hand, as if trying to remind Petey how messed up his knee was. Oh, he knew, all right.
“Mr. Ryan, you must be in tremendous pain. I really think—”

Petey held up a hand, stopping him.
“No meds. At least not until you have to put me under for surgery.”

“
Don’t be an ass. Take the painkillers,” Alison said.

He ignored her and asked the doctor,
“How soon can you do the surgery?”

The doctor nodded as he said,
“I’m glad you’re okay with doing the surgery here. I assumed you’d want to have it done in Detroit. Maybe by team physicians?”

He waved that away.
“This needs to be done ASAP. And I can’t keep it immobilized for that drive or flight.”

The doctor was nodding along with him, but also seemed surprised. Like he didn
’t think Petey had it in him to be so astute. Christ, did
everyone
in the room think he was just a dumb jock?

“
Since it’s so late, I’d like to keep you overnight and do the surgery first thing in the morning. I’ve already called Dr. Wright in Marquette and he’s on standby to drive over tomorrow morning. I’ll assist.”

“
You’re not going to do it yourself?”

“
No. He’s an orthopedic surgeon. You’ll be in better hands with him. For minimal invasion and a much smoother recovery, he’ll go in arthroscopically. Which, given your scars, you’ve obviously had done before.”

“
But you’ll be there?”

“
Yes.”

He didn
’t know why that would make him feel better, but it did. “Okay, Doc, let’s get this show on the road. Find me a bed.”

“
Fine. Good. About the painkillers….”

“
Nope. Nothing until the drip tomorrow morning. I’m good.”

The doctor looked at him skeptically, but just nodded and walked away, giving instructions to the nurse who followed. He looked away from their retreating backs. He
’d known what the doctor was going to say, had been dead on about the shape of his knee. So why did it feel so shitty to be right?

“
Fuck.”

He felt a small, warm hand gently touch his arm.
“Want me to go get Lizzie?”

“
No.” He paused and shook his head slowly. “She’ll care too much. So will my parents. They’ll all be really upset.”

“
As opposed to me, who could give a shit?” she said with just a touch of sarcastic bitch in her voice. What had he called it? A dash. Yes, just a dash of bitch on that one. The hand stayed on his arm, though. And damn but he liked it.

“
Exactly,” he answered, not heeding her sarcasm. “That’s exactly what I need right now. Somebody objective. Removed. Pretend I’m one of your patients or something.”

“
And when did you first know you wanted to sleep with your mother?” she said in a mock, low, smooth, therapist-y voice.

“
Fuck,” he growled. “Fine. Go get Lizzie. And my parents. Your shift is over. You’ve done your duty.”

As always when they scrapped—which was pretty much whenever they were together—one of them went just a step too far and the other one quit. It was pretty much a running tie on who quit first.

Not that he kept score or anything.

She looked like she wanted to defuse the situation, to put the pin back in the grenade. He silently willed her to—to distract him, to stay with him. And it looked like she was going to. Her hand slid down his arm and, took his huge hand in her tiny one. He turned his over so her palm fit in his, gave hers a small squeeze and looked into her eyes.

And for a moment—just one, tiny moment—all their bullshit fell away and she smiled at him. Really smiled at him. And for just that moment, there was no pain.

And then she looked at their surroundings. A hospital bed. Holding hands. Fear. Pain. He saw the moment her mind went back there. Then something old, and familiar, flashed in her eyes and she stepped away from him. Slipped her hand from his. Removed the soft look from her eyes.

“Good luck tomorrow,” she said. Then she gathered her things and walked away from him.

Dreams are often most profound when they seem the most crazy.

~ Sigmund Freud

“And you know how much I hate it when my mother calls.”

Alison nodded agreement with her patient, prompting her to go on.

Denise Casparich looked at Alison for only a moment then dove in to her weekly tirade about her mother. “Well, it’s just that she never listens….”

She went on, but Alison
’s mind wandered. That never happened with a patient—something in which she took great pride. Because lord knew, sometimes it wasn’t easy.

But today, her mind was elsewhere. About two miles elsewhere. Across the bridge and at the hospital where Petey was probably just coming out of surgery.

Alison could easily be there soon—be there when he woke up. She’d be leaving for the hospital as soon as her session with Denise was over. She’d taken this semester off from teaching Intro to Psych at Tech to be able to deal more with her parents’ situations. She only saw patients in the morning three days a week. It was the lightest schedule she’d ever had, but she was grateful to have the time now that she was shuttling from the hospital, to her mother’s home, to her own, back to the hospital, and now to her mother’s for the night.

Although she wouldn
’t need to be doing that much longer. Her sister Sherry had called just this morning and said she was able to come and stay with their mother for a few weeks. The absolute relief Alison felt also made her feel like crap.

And even though she may shortly be in the same building as a recovering Petey, she knew she wouldn
’t go to his room. Wouldn’t be amongst the ones wishing him well, arranging his pillows, or making sure he had some ice chips nearby.

No. That was for his parents and Lizzie to do. Friends and family.

To the outside world, she and Petey were great friends. They’d been part of the same circle for years, always part of the crowd every summer.

Only they knew about the strain—or should that be
stain
?—on their relationship, which would never allow her the closeness he had with Lizzie, Zeke and Katie. Geez, Petey was even on speaking terms with Katie’s ex, Ron, again.

“
And I just can’t help but think I should be a better friend, you know?”

Alison nodded agreement with her patient, then pulled herself out of her own thoughts. Oops. Denise was off the mother phone call.
“Wait. What did you mean by that?”

Denise looked at her like it was a trick question.
“That I should be a better friend?”

“
Go on with that,” she said, motioning with her hand for Denise to go a little deeper.

“
Well, I mean, you know, being single and all.”

“
Mmm-hmm….” Alison mentally kicked herself for letting her mind wander. This may be something much more pertinent to Denise than her love-hate relationship with her mother. Not that the mother issue wasn’t fodder for many of their sessions—warranted or not.

“
When you’re single, your friends become your family.”

“
In many cases, yes. Go on.”

“
But it seems like all my friends have either just gotten married or are about to. I’m feeling…very….”

“
Left out,” Alison finished for Denise. Which she absolutely never did. And honestly, was she finishing Denise’s thought or her own? The situation might be babies instead of husbands, but there was no denying her tight circle of friends—yes, her family in many ways—was moving in a different direction. And Alison was feeling…what exactly was she feeling? Is that why she’d slept with Petey the night of Katie’s wedding?

In the months since that night, she hadn
’t allowed herself to even try to put the drunken pieces of the puzzle together let alone
analyze
why she’d done it in the first place.

Enough. It wasn
’t the time or place to be thinking about…
Petey barely letting the heavy hotel door close behind them as he pushed her up against the wall of her room and started kissing her.

“
But why do you feel
you
need to be a better friend?” she asked Denise, trying to shake the flash of memory.

“
Because…maybe then….” She couldn’t finish, and this time Alison kept quiet. Denise was in her late twenties, and not originally from the U.P. She’d gone to Tech, fallen in love with the Copper Country, and decided to stay. Not entirely uncommon. Though most Tech grads with degrees in engineering found their way to larger cities.

Not being a native, and with most of her classmates gone, Denise had a smaller group of friends in the area, who were now apparently marrying off.