She kissed his forehead, as if he were still a small boy. “Food is the best medicine. Make sure you don’t eat it all. Let your nurses have some, too.”
“But there won’t be any left if I let them near it.”
“They deserve a reward for putting up with you, boyo.” Rory patted Ike’s right shoulder.
“I’m sure he’s been as nice as gold,” his mom said earnestly, though there was a twinkle in her green eyes.
“As good as gold, Ma,” Ike corrected gently.
“Or as nice as pie,” Rory added with an indulgent smile.
Karina threw up her hands. “Pie, gold, nice, good. It’s all the same, no?”
Ike and Rory exchanged amused looks. “Sure.”
“You boys.” His mom shook her head at them, her gray curls bouncing. “Anyway, what did the doctor say about you going home?”
Ike made his tone upbeat. “I should be out of here in a few days. I can’t wait.”
“Rory and I think you should come stay with us. You need somewhere to rest and I can look after you until you’re better.”
He loved his mom, but he really didn’t want her fussing over him. “I appreciate the offer, Ma, but I’ll be fine.”
She frowned. “But who’s going to cook for you and make sure you have groceries? I don’t want you living on takeout. And who’ll look after your place and do your laundry?”
“I have a cleaning service. The rest I’ll figure out.” He was saying that a lot today. “Besides, you guys are newlyweds. You don’t want me around, cramping your style.”
“Your mum would feel better if she had you under her roof.” Rory crossed his arms over his chest, making it clear that whatever his wife wanted he’d make damn sure she got.
“I appreciate that, but I’ll be out of action for several weeks. You can’t look after me for that long. What about your trip at Thanksgiving?”
Ike and his brothers had all pitched in to send their mom and Rory on a visit to see his family, followed by a belated honeymoon in southern Ireland.
“We’ll delay it.” Karina waved her hand dismissively. “I’m not going anywhere until I know you’re okay.”
“That’s crazy. It’s all planned and you’ve both been looking forward to it.”
His mom planted her hands on her hips. “I can’t leave you by yourself.”
“I’m a grown man, Ma. I’ll find someone to help me out.”
“Who can look after you better than your mother?”
He rolled his eyes at her. “Jeez. There’s no good answer to that question.”
Her lips twitched, but she shook her head. “Unless I take care of you myself, I can’t be sure you won’t overdo things.”
“There’s no chance of that. Anyway, the doc has said he won’t let me out of here until I have the proper support in place.”
“At least someone is being sensible,” she huffed.
“It’ll all be covered. Trust me. There’s no need for you to postpone your trip.”
He’d make damn sure; he wouldn’t ruin his mom’s first vacation in years. “So, have you got some new outfits to take to Ireland?”
His mom gave him a look that said she’d allow him to distract her. The rest of the visit was spent talking about the upcoming trip.
All too soon, it was time for his mom and Rory to go to the arena to watch the game. Kenny was in the lineup again and they wanted to support him.
Ike shoved down his envy. “Have a good time.”
“It won’t be the same without you in net,” Rory said, understanding in his eyes.
“Tell everyone to give the Blueshirts hell and tell Kenny to have a good game.”
His mom hugged him. “I expect to hear what you’ve ‘figured out’ tomorrow.”
“Yes, ma’am.” He picked up the list the occupational therapist had left him. “See, working on it now.”
Ike waited until his mom and Rory had gone before reading the papers. There was a crap-load of stuff to arrange and not much time to do it. His frustration grew—he couldn’t use his freaking arm, but the list made him sound like an invalid.
Still, if he wanted out of here, he had to get it sorted. Starting now. It wasn’t as if he had anything better to do.
Ike went down the checklist to see what he could cross off easily. The cleaning service. They might do extra chores for him, like laundry. He reached for his cell and dialed their number. Unfortunately, no one answered, so he left a message and continued down the list. But he only got halfway through the page before tossing it aside in frustration. He couldn’t check anything off without a crazy amount of internet research to find out which companies were reputable. Then he’d have to check references and get quotes. How the hell was he supposed to manage all of that from here?
The simple answer was he couldn’t. But he knew someone who could.
Ike reached for the Helping Hands brochure Tracy had left him. It was the perfect solution. She’d do the legwork and present him with options and prices. All he’d have to do was say which ones he wanted and write a check.
Unfortunately, the chances of Tracy working for him were probably close to zero after the way he’d treated her. Bad enough that he’d been an ass when she’d visited, but he’d attacked the very thing he needed—her business. She wouldn’t spit on him if he was on fire.
Ike hadn’t had the chance to apologize because she hadn’t been back to see him. He’d planned to fix things once he was out of the hospital. Clearly, he couldn’t wait that long.
The problem now was that she’d think the only reason he wanted to apologize was that he needed her help.
Ike swore. Just like every other damn thing to do with his injury, he had no choice. He did need her help. And fast.
Perhaps she’d soften toward him if he showed he respected her business. He might not like that work always came first, but he admired what she’d achieved with Making Your Move. He could offer to spread the word about Helping Hands. Not just within the Ice Cats’ organization, but other NHL teams, too.
He should also grovel. Yeah. Probably do the groveling first.
Before he could change his mind, Ike grabbed his cell and dialed.
* * *
HELL HAD FROZEN over and Satan was skating on his personal hockey rink.
Why else would Ike’s name be on her caller ID?
What did he want? She rolled her eyes. The easiest way to find out was to answer. She was tempted to let his call go to voice mail and see what message he left. But returning his call would put her on the back foot. Making him drive the conversation put her in control.
She took a calming breath and answered. “Making Your Move, Tracy Hayden speaking.”
“Yeah. Hi.” He sounded startled, as though he hadn’t expected her to answer. “It’s Ike.”
She kept her tone civil but cool. “Hello.”
Silence. Tracy could hear him breathing. He was probably waiting for her to say something, but she was determined not to speak first.
“So,” he said finally. “I...uh...owe you an apology.”
“You do.”
More silence.