Chapter 11

After watching Brody suffer his concussion, Ryan couldn't sleep. She laid in bed and dozed fitfully at best, giving up around seven a.m. She dressed quietly to avoid waking Lara and went for a walk. After close to an hour, she still wasn't ready to return to the hotel. She found a diner a block away and went in and ordered some coffee. When her phone rang, she grabbed for it. "Hello."

"Hi, Ryan? This is Bax. Chuck Baxter."

"Hi, Bax. How are you?" Her stomach tied in knots; why would Bax call unless it was bad news?

"I'm fine. Listen, Brody wanted me to call you. I don't know if you know, but he got hit in the game last night."

She swallowed. "Yeah, I know. I saw. How is he? It looked pretty bad."

"He's got a concussion. That's why I'm calling. He's at home, but last word is he's got a monster headache—which is not unusual—and he needs time to rest. I know you must be worried, but I wanted to tell you to give him a few days."

"Okay."

"Look, Ryan, don't worry too much about this. You probably won't hear from him for a few days, but that's par for the course; I'm not even going to call him for a while. He needs some time for things to settle down and then he'll see the doc and they can gauge how he's doing."

"Okay." Ryan closed her eyes and took a long, slow breath. "Thanks for calling, Bax. I didn't know what to do."

"It's not a problem. And I know it's scary. I had a concussion a couple of years ago and those first few days after aren't easy, but we know more than we did even then. We've got a good medical staff and no one's going to rush him back."

"He'll probably be doing that himself," Ryan said. "He'll hate not being able to play."

"Yeah, probably. It'd be like you hurting your hand or something."

She winced. "Don't say things like that, Bax, you'll jinx me."

"I thought only athletes were superstitious like that." He chuckled.

"Oh, trust me, we all have our little ... quirks." Ryan rubbed her forehead.

"I believe you. So, how is everything going?"

"Really well, thanks. We have a show later today."

"Good—no, wait, I have to say 'break a leg, ' right?"

"If you want to. I'm not picky, and that's for the theater anyway."

"All right. Good luck, break a leg, whatever it is. Hope you have a good show, Ryan."

"Thanks, Bax, and thanks for calling. If you see Brody, tell him I miss him, and to call me when he feels up to it."

"Will do. Bye, Ryan."

She said goodbye and ended the call, relieved to have some news about Brody although she was still worried. Ryan knew that concussions were unpredictable and their effects cumulative. The post-concussion symptoms could last for months. She'd read how concussions had ended more than one career in sports, and sometimes not until a year or two later. Her coffee sat, getting cold as she tried not to be swamped by such fears.

A plate landed in front of her and Ryan looked up in surprise.

"Here, eat," Lara said as she dropped into the opposite chair.

"Good morning to you, too." Ryan waited for her heart to stop racing. "Did you have to do that?"

"Eat," Lara repeated. "I know you haven't eaten."

"I'm so predictable." Ryan broke off a piece of the muffin and ate it. "How did you know where I was? And thanks."

"It's not like there are a lot of options around here, and you're welcome. Everything okay?"

"Yeah, it is. As okay as it can be." She filled Lara in on Bax's phone call. "I'm glad to know, I just wish I could do more."

"And you're still worried," Lara observed. "Are you going to be okay tonight?"

"Sure, on both counts." Ryan shrugged. "I have to be, don't I? It's not like I can do anything for him, and playing will keep my mind off it."

"He'll be all right, Ryan." Lara squeezed her hand. "He's in top shape and you know they've got great doctors."

"I know. Thanks. I guess I'd feel better if I could talk to him myself."

"You will. Just give it a couple more days. Maybe Bax will call again with an update."

"I hope so." Ryan sighed. "I never expected stuff like this while I was on tour, either."

Lara gave her a sympathetic smile. "No one ever said it would be easy."

Ryan sipped at her coffee. No, no one said it would be easy, but just this once, she wished it was.

Five days after he'd suffered the concussion, Brody was at last feeling better. His headaches had abated and although he had occasional nausea and dizziness, those episodes were getting fewer and farther between. He hoped he'd be cleared for light exercise soon, although the doctor was in no hurry. He, on the other hand, harbored some hope that he'd be back before the playoffs were over.

In fact, he was well enough that he was going to watch game seven at Verizon Center from the press box. It wasn't anywhere near as good as playing, but at least he'd be there.

He was watching the sports news when he heard a knock at the door and got up to answer. He was pleased to see Bax. "Hi, man. What's up?"

The older man shook his head. "Nothing, I was just checking on you. Doreen was worried, and Tara, too. Doreen thinks Tara has a crush on you." He narrowed his eyes. "Stay away from my daughter, Lang."

Brody laughed, which he hadn't done since his injury. "Yes, sir, Mr. Baxter, sir."

Bax grinned and dropped into a chair. "That's more like it." He became serious. "How are you feeling?"

"I'm okay. Better. Tell Doreen thanks for thinking of me, and Tara, too." Brody paused, then shrugged. "What can I say? You know the drill. They told me to take it easy, rest, all of that."

"And you should. You want to be careful with this, Langer."

"I know, I know. I've gotten the lecture from both parents, one sister and a brother, not to mention Lou."

Bax chuckled. "All right, then. I'll leave it alone. Let's talk about something else. Any word from Ryan?"

"I'm going to talk to her in a little while. She texted to say they were in the middle of something and she'll let me know when they're done. Thanks for calling her." He gave Bax a wry look. "It figures the one time she watches a playoff game, I get mowed down."

"Murphy's Law," Bax agreed. "The first time Doreen came to see me play, I got clipped just above my eye and was bleeding like crazy. She was not happy, to say the least. It wasn't really that bad—you know how those cuts look worse than they are—but it freaked her out a lot."

"I haven't talked to Ryan yet so I'm not sure how freaked out she is. I texted her back to let her know I was okay, but we haven't talked yet."

"She was okay when I talked to her," Bax told him. "Worried, but she didn't panic. I bet with her brothers playing sports she knows a little more about it than most people. She seemed pretty steady."

Brody hadn't thought about it quite that way, but Bax had a point. Ryan had been pretty calm about the whole thing although he knew she was concerned. He liked that. She'd sent a couple of texts, but hadn't swamped him with phone calls just to make herself feel better. "Yeah, she doesn't panic, does she? She's practical or something. It's nice to know I can tell her something, even a bad thing, and she won't go to pieces."

"Uh-oh, sounds like love to me."

"Oh, please. I have a concussion; I'm not crazy."

"What's crazy about that?"

"Nothing, I guess." Brody felt drained now; fatigue was another symptom he hadn't shaken. He rested his head back on the couch.

"All right. You feeling okay?" Bax looked concerned. "Do you need anything? I have to go soon but I could probably zip out and get you something if you need it."

"No, thanks, I'm good. The headaches are pretty much gone but I still get tired. I just need to rest and try to relax. Really, I'm okay, Bax. Thanks for checking in."

"All right. Guess I'll head out, then."

Brody stood and walked with Bax to the door. "I hate not playing."

"I know, kid, we all do. Don't worry, it's not over yet."

Brody nodded and closed the door, then stood for a minute. He didn't know what to do with himself now that he wasn't playing. There were hours until game time. Rest, he thought. He'd rest and then call Ryan.

Ryan found herself with time on her hands. The sound check was finished for their next show and she'd had lunch. With a few empty hours in front of her, she considered a swim in the hotel's pool. Upon inspection, she rejected the idea. Green water was a nice decorative touch, but not something she wanted to swim in. She hoped Brody would call soon; she'd texted him a while ago but had held off on calling. When her phone rang, she was relieved to see his name on the screen.

"Hi, Brody."

"Hey there, rock star."

She smiled at the greeting. "Hey, yourself. How are you feeling?"

"I'm okay."

"How are you really feeling?"

He paused before answering. "I'm okay, I'm not great. The dizziness is less, which is good, and the headaches are almost gone. I'm not better, not by a long shot. They'll give me another neuro test tomorrow just to see if there's any progress."

"I'm glad you're improving. I'm sorry I can't be there. I wish I could."

"If you were, would you be naked with a guitar? I bet that would make me feel better."

Ryan laughed. "It amazes me you can even think about such things with a concussion."

"I have nothing to do but think right now. They keep telling me to rest. So I just sit here in the quiet and, you know, think about things."

"Like me naked with a guitar."

"Why not?"

Ryan shook her head. "Well, I guess if it makes you feel better."

"It does, believe me. Anyway, how are things with you?"

"Oh, we've had some ups and downs, but mostly it's fine."

"Tell me. I need to hear about something besides concussion symptoms and testing and baselines."

"Well, the night after you were hit, we played to a club that had about twenty people in it. Somebody really fell down on promotion." She went on to regale him with similar anecdotes and tried to keep it light. She told him about playing a club in Delaware that had no air conditioning, which made everyone in the band sweat like crazy with the additional heat of the stage lights. "I think I lost a good three pounds that night."

Brody chuckled. "You're pretty impressive, you know that?" The warmth in his voice made Ryan relax a little.

"I don't know about that, but it's nice to know you think so."

"No, I mean, you don't let any of this stuff get to you. You just deal with it."

"Oh, I have my moments but I don't—we don't—have a choice but to deal with it."

"Still, you're good at it." He went quiet.

Ryan waited, then asked, "Are you still there?"

"I am, I'm sorry. Just tired. Well, not exactly tired; not sleepy tired. It's the fatigue. It's hard to think of things to say."

"It's okay. I'm just glad we got to talk. Why don't you go get some rest?" She gave a short laugh. "Boy, I bet you're tired of people saying that."

"You have no idea. But you're right. And I'm going to the press box tonight, so I really should rest up."

"Tell everyone I said good luck. Take it easy, Brody." Ryan bit her lip. "I miss you. I can't wait to see you when we're done."

"Me, either. Break a leg tonight, Ryan."

"Thanks. Good night."

"Good night."

She hung up thinking that she was doing a whole lot more than missing him, but she didn't want to have that conversation over the phone.

Brody ground his teeth as he watched the clock tick down in the third period. There was less than ten minutes left, and the Capitals trailed by two goals. After losing game five and falling behind the in the series, the Caps had forced a game seven back in Washington by winning game six in Montréal two nights before. He'd insisted on attending this game in person, even though he had to stay in the press box. He didn't feel great and probably shouldn't have come, but he couldn't bring himself to stay home when his teammates were fighting for their playoff lives.

He glanced over at the general manager, who stared down at the ice with a blank expression. Brody knew the man had to be seething inside even though it didn't show.

Brody returned his attention to the game, a sick feeling in his stomach. The longer it went on the less time there was to score one goal, let alone two. His teammates tried, but the Canadiens had the upper hand. When time expired, he dropped his head. He couldn't bear to look at either the Habs celebrating by their goal or his teammates waiting glumly by the bench to line up for the post-series handshake.

He left the press box and took a taxi home. He wished he could call Ryan, but he knew she had a show. A glance at his watch showed it was late enough that she was probably about to go on, wherever she was.

He shifted against the seat, wishing he was going home to see her and not just to his empty apartment.

His phone beeped as he was opening his door. He looked and saw a text from Ryan. I'm really sorry. Call me when you can. Miss you.

Brody stared at the phone and debated whether to call her back. Did he want to talk to anyone right now with the loss still so fresh in his mind? He smiled; he wanted to talk to one person, even if she only had a few minutes. He dialed and waited for her to pick up.

"Hey, rock star."

Ryan grinned at Lara as they played their last show. The final three weeks of the tour had gone by in a blur, and she'd loved every minute. It was hard to believe it was over, but over didn't mean they were finished. Their manager, Jocelyn, had been working to land them more dates, and said she didn't think they'd have to wait long. She encouraged them to write more songs and keep working the social media platforms.

Trout had done an outstanding job on their website, and each of them had taken turns blogging since it went live, cross-posting the blog entries to Facebook. They linked to fan videos, concert reviews and tried to personally respond to comments left on the blog. They all had Twitter accounts as well. Ryan found she enjoyed the give-and-take with the fans, although it was sometimes hard to keep up. It paid off in people spreading the word about their shows and their songs, so no one in the band complained.

They finished the show and gathered for their customary post-performance beer.

"Good job, guys," Mitch said. They clinked their bottles together.

"Absolutely," Ryan agreed. "We kicked some ass on this tour."

"Any word from Jocelyn?" Nate asked.

"No, haven't heard yet, but she said we probably wouldn't for a few days," Ryan said.

"Good, I can use a vacation," Nate joked.

They all laughed and nodded. "I wouldn't turn one down," Lara said. "I'm definitely taking a few days to recover before I start looking for a job when we get back."

"Maybe you won't need one." Mitch grinned. "Maybe Jocelyn will get us our big break."

"So long as she gets it after I get a few days to sleep in," Ryan said.

After they returned to the hotel, Ryan checked her various e-accounts while Lara grabbed a shower. "God, I can't wait to get home." Lara sat on the bed and towel dried her hair. "This has been great but I will be happy to spend more than two nights in the same place."

Ryan closed the computer and yawned. "I'm with you. I'd say the good outweighed the bad and all that, but I won't be sorry to give up hard beds and bad wallpaper."

"What are you going to do when we get back?"

"I'm going to Brody's first, I guess. Then I'll see. Annette said I can crash there until I get things straightened out."

"I feel so bad for him." Lara reached for a comb and worked on de-tangling her hair. "For all of them."

"Me, too. And I'm still worried about his concussion. He says he's okay, but I know it can take a long time to get over them. I don't want him to do too much too fast."

"Yeah, those are scary." Lara frowned as she worked at a knot in her hair. "It's been almost four weeks, though, right? And now he has the whole summer to recover."

"I know, but he's not going to want to just lie around," Ryan said. "He said he's been trying some light exercise, and so far so good. He hasn't skated again yet, though."

"Have your brothers ever had concussions?"

"I don't know." Ryan considered that. "JT probably has, but they never said anything about it, at least not to me. Evan had a scare with his knee once a few years ago but I don't recall him ever having a concussion. With JT, though—it's football. I can't imagine he hasn't had one, but college football is tough that way. They all try to play through everything, even with all the new awareness and rules for treatment. And JT's always bragging that he plays through pain."

"Yeah, that sounds like JT," Lara said. She dropped the comb and covered a yawn. "Okay, I'm done. I need sleep."

"You and me both." Ryan slid under the covers. "'Night."

"Night."

Ryan turned over, trying to find a comfortable position. When that didn't work, she punched at the pillows. At last, sheer exhaustion took over and she fell asleep.

The next day they stopped for breakfast and then began the trek home. Ryan and Lara split the driving, working on the band's blog in turns. As northern Virginia drew closer, Ryan found herself fidgeting in anticipation. She couldn't wait to see Brody. After his concussion, they'd dispensed with video calls, as he didn't want to risk a headache from staring at the screen. It worked better for Ryan anyway, since she tended to call while the band traveled. She wondered if he still had his playoff beard.

Lara pulled up in front of the apartment building and both women stared at it.

"It's weird to think we don't live here anymore," Ryan said.

"I was just thinking that." Lara smiled. "Come on, let's get your stuff out. Does Brody know you're here? Do you want to leave your stuff here first while you check?"

"I called a while ago, and he said he'd be home all day. I'll just grab my guitar and my clothes. If you could hold on to the keyboard and the rest, I'll get it as soon as I can."

"No problem." Lara stepped out and Ryan followed suit. "I'm going to my mom's first, actually, so I can put your stuff there. Then you can get it any time."

"Thanks."

They dug through the luggage and instruments piled in the car and rearranged the load once Ryan had removed her suitcase and guitar.

"Do you want me to wait, in case he's not here?" Lara asked.

"No, that's okay, thanks. If he's not there, I'll check Mark's place. Maybe I can hang there. I'll be fine, don't worry."

"Okay. Tell everybody I said hi." Lara was quiet for a minute, then laughed. "Wow, this is really weird."

Ryan grinned, hoping her nervousness didn't show. "Yeah, it is. Go on, say hi to your mom. Seriously, if I need a ride or anything, I'll call you. Or, hey, I'll stay at a hotel; I'm a pro at it now." She laughed.

"Aren't we all?" Lara grinned and moved to the driver's side door. "Take it easy, Ry."

"You, too. And let me know if you hear from Jocelyn."

"Will do."

Ryan took a deep breath and entered the building, then encountered her first obstacle: the security lock on the inside door. She buzzed the desk and waved at the guard. He smiled in recognition and let her in. They exchanged greetings as she made her way to the elevator.