I slide over a chair, and kick back my feet onto the bed. “Want me to catch you up on anything you’ve missed, or do you just want to enjoy the quiet for a little longer?”
His head tilts, and he pushes out the words, “How’s Chance?”
My jaw clenches. “Don’t worry about that right now, man. You’re awake and you’re just getting your bearings.”
He holds up his palm, as if to stop me. “This wasn’t his fault.”
I shake my head. “You might not remember too clearly, but I saw?—”
“I heard him.”
My chin jerks back. “What do you mean?”
“Right before I got hit...” He coughs, and lifts the cup to his lips for another sip. “He saw Ivanov right before I did, and he shouted for him to stop. I heard it.”
Regret and shock churn in my stomach, twisting my insides until I’m sick. “Are you sure?”
He nods once, keeping his brown eyes on mine.
I close my eyes. “Fuck.”
Shouldn’t I have known this though? Shouldn’t I have given Chance the time to explain himself? Instead, when everything fell apart, I pointed the finger at him and turned my back on him.
Alex purses his lips. “What did you do?”
I let out a long exhale, scrubbing my palm over my face. “Nothing you need to worry about right now. Save your voice, and rest up so you can get the hell out of here.”
For now, I’m going to enjoy the time with my best friend—time I wasn’t sure I’d ever get again.
Chance’s legbounces as he stares down at his hands in his lap.
Presley sits between us on the couch. Luckily, Dominique was able to take the kids for the night so we can talk. I’m not sure how this talk is going to go, and I didn’t want the kids eavesdropping.
I’m not usually at a loss for words, but it’s been about two full, painful minutes, and neither of us has said a word to get this thing rolling.
“I guess I’ll start,” Presley says. “It’s good to hear that Alexander is awake and alert. No memory loss or anything like that.”
I nod. “He was in good spirits today when I saw him.”
Presley smiles. “I bet Giuliana was happy.”
“She was talking up a storm, filling him in on every little detail that he missed.” I chuckle, but then my smile fades. “He, uh, he mentioned that he remembered what happened in the game right before Ivanov hit him.”
Chance’s face is a statue. If it weren’t for his bouncing leg, I’d think he was frozen.
Presley reaches out and squeezes my hand.
This is painful.
“Alex said you tried to stop Ivanov,” I blurt out.
Still no reaction from Chance.
Presley’s wide eyes shift from me to him, blinking, waiting for him to say something.
“I’m sorry I blamed you.” I pause, swallowing down the ball of nerves lodged in my throat, hoping Chance will say something. Anything. At least acknowledge that I’m speaking.
“Can you please look at me while I’m apologizing to you?”