Joelle Morrow has her focus set on the future. As an up-and-coming lingerie designer, she's overcome multiple setbacks on the road to achieving her dream of opening her own boutique but has yet to be knocked down, leaving her no time to think about...
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"Are you sure this is a good idea?" Isla asked warily.
Sitting in the passenger seat as she idled the vehicle outside the arena, I shook my head. "No," I admitted, raking my fingers through my hair, "but I honestly can't take another day of sitting around, doing nothing."
Which was an understatement.
Twenty days. That's how long it'd been since I'd last stepped foot inside the arena.
After being released from the hospital with explicit instructions to have someone regularly check in on me, Cameron and Isla had taken the doctor's orders one step further. Instead of taking me home, they'd all but forced me back into their spare room, and in my condition, I hadn't objected.
Filled with crippling pain and erratic headaches, the first couple of days had been the worst. As I adjusted to my medication, sleep came at random times, throwing my body out of whack. I was asleep during the day and awake at night, unable to do much with my right leg out of commission, and to top it all off, I'd been banned from using any electronics in hopes that the lack of screen time would speed up my concussion recovery.
Through it all, Cameron and Isla were there. Whether it was to help with my crutches, remind me to eat, or simply keep me company. For that I was grateful, but they couldn't stop the vicious thoughts that invaded my mind.
Thoughts revolving around two things: hockey and Jo.
The Knights had begun their playoff run, and with each game that passed, my emotions got stuck in a heated battle. I was proud of my teammates for playing their asses off, but I also couldn't help the sadness that crept in. Knowing that if I'd only seen the Chicago player coming, I'd be right alongside them on the ice.
But I'd been benched, and there was nothing I could do about it.
Jo, however, was a different story.
Any time I thought of her, I never saw the smile that drew me in or the strong-willed woman I'd fallen in love with. No. I saw the brokenhearted face of the person I'd pushed out of my life. I'd been downright awful to her in a moment of weakness, and while a part of me still believed I'd done the right thing, the rest of me did not agree.
I missed her, but I also couldn't deny that it'd be selfish of me to reach out when she was so close to her boutique's grand opening. At least that's what I told myself every time I held back the urge to call her and apologize. Instead, I allowed my feelings to stew, and did my best to ignore the building pressure in my chest that didn't seem to want to disappear.
Though as the days wore on, things slowly got better. My concussion symptoms began to fade and the throbbing in my leg dwindled to a dull ache. I was able to get up and hobble around once I'd adjusted to my crutches, and with Cameron working from home, it never felt like I was truly isolated.
Except for this morning. I'd woken up feeling stir crazy, and couldn't fathom the idea of staying inside for yet another uneventful day.
"I get it, I do," Isla responded, her voice gentle, "and I'm totally up for you doing something productive. I just don't want you to step inside the arena and get discouraged since you aren't able to skate."
