All of My Soul (25 page)

“Ma’am. I understand your concern, but this
is LA. He’s not the first celebrity we’ve treated.” Lincoln’s
doctor spoke with understanding and compassion in his voice.

“Our other brother has already been contacted
by ESPN for a statement. Can you guarantee no one at this hospital
will speak to the press without approval from the team and from
me?”

What the hell? Was this really going to turn
into a media circus?

The doctor never flinched under Kennedy’s
serious tone. “As I’m sure you’re aware, there are laws that
protect your privacy. We take that very seriously. No one”—he
glanced at the nurses—“and I mean no one will release any details
of your brother’s treatment to any unauthorized persons. That
includes the press, public, or any other hospital staff.”

Kennedy pursed her lips but seem to accept
the doctor’s reassurance.

The doctor smiled. “All right, then. Let’s
get that cast on.”

“Should I wait outside?” I asked as I
released Lincoln’s hand.

He immediately clutched on to me tighter.
“No,” he said emphatically. He was totally serious for the first
time since they gave him the drugs.

“All right.” I rubbed his shoulder with my
free hand. “I won’t go anywhere.” I looked at the doctor who smiled
and nodded, confirming I didn’t have to leave.

Kennedy stepped toward the curtain. “I’m
going to make sure they know to let Deacon and your coach
visit.”

Lincoln wiggled his toes and flopped his head
from side to side. “I know a secret. I know a secret.”

Kennedy rolled her eyes and left the room as
the nurses and doctor began prepping his arm for the cast.

“What’s the secret, baby?” I asked to
distract him.

Lincoln held a finger up to his lips.
“Shh…”

“I won’t tell,” I whispered.

“Come closer.”

I sat on the edge of the bed and leaned over
Lincoln without touching him.

“Closer,” he whispered.

I moved closer and tilted my head so it
looked like I was straining to hear him.

“What is it?” I asked in a hush voice when my
ear was close to his mouth. Only Lincoln didn’t reply. I turned to
look at him with confusion when he suddenly pushed his lips up to
mine and kissed me lightly before breaking out in a fit of
laughter.

I restrained myself from smacking him.
“You’re such a dork.”

He just smiled at me like he was proud of
himself and held me next to him with his good arm.

“Once you get better, we’re going to have to
have a bunch of people over,” I told him. “Now that the season is
over, we can get you all liquored up. You’ll be the life of the
party.”

“Party time! Excellent!”

Chapter
Eighteen

An hour later, Lincoln was resting
comfortably in a private room on the eleventh floor of the
hospital. Well, resting would be an overstatement. He had one
visitor after another. Half Lincoln’s teammates, his agent, his
coach, and the general manager of the Blackhawks had all stopped by
to check on him along with the media correspondent for the team.
Press releases had to be issued. Reporters wanted interviews. The
media wanted juicy news.

My poor Lincoln was hounded with questions
and interview requests despite it being obvious he was injured and
drugged up. Carter managed to make a deal over the phone. One
camera crew would be allowed into the room for a very short
interview. Just a simple sound bite that could be used for the
sports news. It was enough to satisfy the team’s PR people. After
all, the fans needed to know he was going to be okay.

I knew my man was in serious pain, but he
backed off on his meds so he could be coherent during the
interview. The minute it was over, however, he was back to pushing
that happy little button as often as possible. He seemed to be
handling the effects of the drugs better, the dopiness tamed down
slightly.

So when Lincoln’s hospital room phone rang
shortly after Kennedy left to gather our things from the hotel and
bring them back here, I wanted to roll my eyes and yank the cord
out of the wall. Who else could it be? Seriously. Lincoln needed to
rest.

It turned out to be the security guard at the
main entrance of the hospital. He had a visitor request. I was
about to tell him no, but when I repeated the name, Lincoln smiled
and nodded.

“Fine,” I told the security guard over the
phone. “But this is the last one.”

A few minutes later, a man I didn’t recognize
poked his head into the room. “Can we come in?” he asked in a thick
Russian accent.

I’m pretty sure I gasped loudly as the
Russian man in the Kings T-shirt stepped into Lincoln’s hospital
room followed by a platinum-blond bombshell. I had no idea what
this superstar was doing here, but holy crap! I was in the same
room as Brit-freaking-Ambush!

She looked stunning in a tight-fitted Kings
T-shirt, dark skintight jeans, and sparkling heels. I couldn’t help
but compare myself to her. My old, oversized Blackhawks jersey,
loose jeans, and tennis shoes looked like rags compared to what she
was wearing.

Lincoln’s face broke into a wide smile.
“Kotel.” He coughed. “You trying to kill me? Come here to finish
the job?”

The lightbulb in my brain clicked on, and I
realized this was the player who had taken down my man during the
game.

“Nah, man,” he said with a smile. “Just
wanted to apologize. Never meant to hit you that hard.” Brit cozied
up to his side as he spoke, their hands weaving together. Ooh, they
must be dating.

Lincoln smiled. Obviously he held no
resentment toward his opponent. Despite coming out on the losing
end, Lincoln knew being injured was a risk he took every time he
stepped on the ice. As long as it was a clean hit, there could be
no hard feelings.

“Congrats, man. The Stanley Cup finals. You
earned it.” Lincoln slapped the man’s hand with his good one,
greeting him.

“Not like this.”

“Save it,” Lincoln said, with a grimace of
pain. “It’s a brutal game.”

Kotel sighed but nodded. Lincoln wouldn’t
accept the apology, but Kotel seemed satisfied that he at least
tried to make amends.

“Jillian,” Lincoln said as he tugged on my
hand. I had been standing next to his bed in shock, just staring at
Brit. “Kotel, this is my girlfriend, Jillian. Kotel and I were
rookies together.”

“I was
not
a rookie.” Kotel’s tone
turned harsh, and Lincoln laughed. “I played professionally in my
country for years before coming here.” His accent was beautiful and
especially thick while he was explaining himself.

Lincoln laughed again. This was clearly a
running joke between the two men.

Brit tugged on Kotel’s sleeve, and tipped her
head toward us when she got his attention.

“Oh, sorry,
lyubov
,” he said, slipping
in what I could only guess was a Russian term of endearment.
“Lincoln, Jillian, this is Brit.”

Brit rolled her eyes at Kotel but smiled as
she held her hand out, first to Lincoln then to me. “Brit Ambush.
I’m so sorry you got hurt. I hope you’re able to recover
quickly.”

I couldn’t speak. I just stood there with my
mouth hanging open, numbly shaking her hand. I had never met a
celebrity before. Well, other than Lincoln and his teammates. There
were so many things that I could say, but no words would come out
of my mouth. Hello? Nice to meet you? I’m a big fan? But no. I
wasn’t able to articulate any of those words.

Lincoln’s chuckled drew me out of my
astonished daze. “Jillian’s a big fan,” he informed Brit.

“Oh my gosh!” I exclaimed as I tried to
string words together to make a sentence. “He—I mean we—I mean him
and I—we—um—”

Brit’s face broke out in a wide, friendly
smile. She patiently nodded while I tried to utter a complete
sentence. And I was still shaking her freaking hand!

I dropped her hand and shook my head quickly,
trying to erase my awkwardness.

“Um—I’m sorry—I—um—we—saw you in Chicago. At
a concert in Chicago. When you were in Chicago.”

Oh my God. Stop saying Chicago!

“Oh yeah?” she asked, sounding genuinely
interested. “Did you enjoy it?”

I nodded my head rapidly. It had been one of
the best nights of my life. “It was our first official date.”

“Oh, how sweet. I’m honored.” Her voice rang
true with conviction, as if she really felt honored that our first
date was at her concert.

Wow. She was nothing like I would have
imagined. I had to admit, I assumed she would be shallow and vain
like Mackenzie. Maybe it was the fact they were both drop-dead
gorgeous. I assumed the similarities between the two would extend
to their personalities as well. But they didn’t. Mackenzie never
acted this nice unless she wanted something, and there was no way
Brit could want anything from me, so I hoped this wasn’t an act.
Maybe she was just a charismatic person.

“Come on, Jillian. Let’s go for a walk and
leave the boys to discuss hockey.”

I stared at her, blank faced. “Me? You want
to go on a walk with me?” She may not have been acting like
Mackenzie, but I was still leery when meeting someone new.

She waved her hand, inviting me to join her.
“Well, yeah! Come on.”

I looked down at Lincoln. I wasn’t asking for
permission to leave, but I didn’t want to go if he wanted me
here.

“Don’t go too far, baby,” he said, letting me
know it was okay.

I bent over him and kissed him quickly on the
lips. “We’ll be back soon.”

He nodded and gave me a small smile as I
walked around the bed to follow Brit.

“Brody,” Lincoln said, causing me to look to
the corner of the room where my bodyguard had been camped out all
evening. I cringed when I realized I had forgotten about him. I
would have left without him had Lincoln not said something.

Brit laughed when she saw my expression.
“Don’t worry. Mine are in the hall.”

Her what?
I thought as we stepped
through the doorway. Two giant muscular men in trendy jeans and
T-shirts flanked Lincoln’s hospital room door.

Brit turned to address them. “Guys, this is
Brody. He’s Jillian’s. Don’t shoot him.”

Oh. Her bodyguards. She thought I was
embarrassed about having a bodyguard.

Her two giants turned and nodded at Brody,
giving him the once-over as Brody did the same. I’m sure analyzing
everyone they encountered was a force of habit with their
profession.

Brit’s heels clicked on the floor as we
meandered down the hospital hallway, without a real destination in
mind. Maybe it was because it was getting late in the evening, but
this floor seemed fairly devoid of people. With the exception of a
few nurses and orderlies who popped in and out of a room a couple
of doors down from Lincoln’s, we seemed to be the only ones
here.

One of Brit’s bodyguards walked in front of
us, and the other behind us with Brody. The five of us must have
looked like a small flock of geese flying in a V formation as we
walked down the hallway. I doubted we needed so much protection,
but Brit seemed oblivious to the guys surrounding us, so I followed
her lead.

“So how long have you two been together?” Her
bright eyes were wide with friendly intrigue.

I forced myself to relax and act like she was
just a normal person and not a celebrity. After all, that’s what
had attracted Lincoln to me in the first place. Maybe most
celebrities just wanted to feel normal.

“Almost six months,” I answered with a warm
smile. It seemed like so long and yet so short at the same time.
“What about you and Kotel?”

“Almost a year.”

I looked up at her with surprise, and she
laughed.

“Don’t act so surprised,” she chided.

“Oh, I’m sorry. I just heard you were dating
that guy from Crime Ghosts.”

She rolled her eyes and laughed, and I
instantly felt stupid for listening to celebrity gossip.

“Don’t believe everything you hear. People
will write anything to make money, but at least that rumor was
fairly benign. Mickey and I kept things private when we first
started dating, but we’re not hiding it anymore.”

“Mickey?” I asked as we wandered into an
empty lounge area. Uncomfortable-looking chairs and couches were
scattered around an old television. An out-of-date vending machine
offered candy bars and prepackaged sandwiches. I wondered how long
they had been sitting in there, waiting to give someone food
poisoning.

Brit laughed again as she looked out the
window. “Everyone calls him Kotel, but I just couldn’t do that.
Mikhail seems so formal, so I shortened it to Mickey. He hates
it.”

The mischievous look in her eyes made me
laugh. “That’s awesome,” I told her. It said a lot about their
relationship.

Her face slowly fell and turned serious.
“Lincoln’s not in the gossip columns much, but I hated that last
shit they wrote about you two.”

I shrugged. “People are going to believe what
they want.”

She shook her head. “That’s like sacred,
though. Whether or not you see a therapist should be your private
business.”

Just the fact that she had brought up this
subject made me paranoid that she was fishing for information, but
the way she said it didn’t seem like she was being nosey.

“I had some shit happen to me as a kid. I’ve
been seeing a therapist for years. We’re not sure why or even how
those reporters found out about it.”

She leaned against the ledge of the window.
“If it had just been one reporter waiting for you, I’d say he
either followed you or got a lucky tip from someone who recognized
you or Lincoln. But he would have wanted an exclusive. He would
have made sure he was the only one who reported that story. Since
there was more than one reporter waiting for you, I’d say someone
close to you tipped them all off. Called all of them to create a
scene. Someone wanted it known that you were there.”