Not surprising, but Evan should have been there.
Unfortunately, his brain wouldn’t allow him.
And I don’t know if his brain will allow him to continue in the NHL.
Of course, he’s as gorgeous as ever. Dark hair, blazing bluish-green eyes, high cheekbones, and full lips. He’s built like an ox and stands a solid 6’4”. He’s a beast—with crippling anxiety.
After taking his weight and his temp, I ask, “How are the meds?”
He shakes his head, his eyes so sad. “I stopped taking them. I had suicidal thoughts. Freaked my mom out.”
“I’m sure,” I say, my stomach dropping. He hasn’t responded well to meds. His therapy is going great, and I feel he’s coping well with a lot of the things outside the rink. But on it is a whole different story. He will literally stop skating and stand there. I’ve seen it; it’s terrifying. “Since stopping the med, have you had any more thoughts?”
“No, they went away maybe four days after I stopped the pills.”
“Good,” I say, writing that down. I hand him a questionnaire for our study, and as he gets started on it, I go to the computer to input data. I watch him as he fills out the questionnaire, and my heart breaks for him. “Have you told your brother how bad it’s been?”
He looks up at me. “Have you answered the phone when your parents call?”
I press my lips together, knowing the answer to my question. It’s hard having him in the program when we both know each other’s families. When he told his mom I was assigned to his case, his mom told my mom, who then called me ninety-seven times. Since I’m embarrassed about my life right now, I won’t answer the phone. That doesn’t play well with my mom or the rest of my family, but it is what it is. I am focused on my research and my studies. I want to graduate early and be hired on as a lead researcher. Dr. Tembalt already said I’ll be hired as soon as I’m done with school. I gotta get done. I want to help more people. Right now, I only have two players, but I want all of them. I want to really dig into the data to find out what is best for them.
As I look over the notes in Evan’s file, I’m taken aback by the doctor’s last entry.
Patient is considering leaving the NHL for college. I suggested this as a good option for him.
Oh Mylanta.
I glance over at Evan, and he looks up at the same time. His brows come in. “What?”
“Are you really considering going back home?”
His shoulders fall as he lets out a long breath. “I can’t keep making an ass out of myself when I get on the ice. I don’t think I’m made to play pro. I need to look at other options.”
“But you’re so incredible. We can get you past this.”
He shrugs. “I don’t know. We’ll see.”
In no way, shape, or form does that sound confident. I want to scream at him, remind him who the hell he is. But I have tried all three drug classes on him when it comes to anxiety medications. I have two more things I could try, but I think he feels defeated. I send a message about that, informing Dr. Tembalt of my predicament and asking for his advice.
“So, what’s the word, Angie? A new med?”
I don’t look at Evan as I read the doctor’s message back.
Let’s see how therapy goes first. I’m worried he may very well be done at this point.
The pain of my own dreams disappearing crashes into me as my eyes meet those of a childhood friend. Within seconds, my stomach drops because I fear his dreams are about to do the same thing as mine.
Melt away faster than a sheet of ice.
Chapter Two
Owen
* * *
I am going to kill D’Artagnan Miklas.
It is his fault I’m sitting across from a total nutjob.
“What’s your favorite color?”
Normal enough question, but Amanda Fills’s behavior is anything but normal. She holds a pen in her hand and taps it to her lip as she awaits my answer.
“Purple and black.”
Her brows touch. While she may be hot as hell, with a great set of tits and an even better ass, I am counting down the seconds until this date is over. I’m usually highly attracted to blondes with green eyes, but not today. I should have dodged the setup, but I’ve been sort of lonely. Tired of the same hookup song and dance. Don’t get me wrong, I love a great hookup with no feelings whatsoever. But I don’t know. Lately, it just hasn’t been doing it for me. Maybe it’s the South Carolina women. It seems as if everyone I meet wants to play games. I don’t have time for that. Be honest, be straightforward, and be real. That’s not a hard request.