My Hockey Heartthrob: A Promise in Overtime

Chapter Sixty-Two

The Following Winter

The call comes on a Tuesday morning in January, Eleanor's voice tight with barely controlled panic, and Mara feels her whole chest go cold the moment she hears it.

"It's your father-in-law," Eleanor says, before Mara can even properly greet her. "Richard collapsed at home this morning. The paramedics think it might be his heart. We're at Ashford General now, they're running tests."

"We're coming right now," Mara says, already moving, gathering keys and calling for Adrian, who appears in the doorway within seconds, alarmed by the urgency in her voice.

They arrive at the hospital within twenty minutes, Amparo left with a neighbor given the circumstances, both of them rushing through the emergency department doors to find Eleanor alone in a small waiting area, visibly shaken in a way Mara's never seen from her before.

"They're running more tests," Eleanor says, standing immediately as they approach, allowing Adrian to pull her into a tight, worried hug. "They think it might be a heart attack, but they're not certain yet. He was conscious when the paramedics arrived, at least. That's something, they said."

"What happened," Adrian asks, voice tight with barely controlled fear.

"We were having breakfast. He just — clutched his chest, suddenly, and went pale, and then he was on the floor before I could even fully process what was happening." Eleanor's composure cracks fully now, tears streaming freely. "I've never been so frightened in my entire life, Adrian. I thought I was losing him."

The wait stretches on for what feels like hours, though the clock insists it's been less than ninety minutes, all three of them sitting together in tense, worried silence, occasionally broken by Eleanor's quiet tears or Adrian's restless pacing.

"He has to be okay," Adrian says, more than once, the specific desperate repetition of someone trying to will a reality into existence through sheer insistence. "We just fixed everything between us. We finally have this right. He has to be okay."

"He's strong," Mara offers, though she understands, even as she says it, how inadequate the reassurance actually is against the genuine uncertainty of the moment. "Whatever's happening, he's got real fight in him."

A doctor finally emerges, calling Eleanor's name, and the three of them rise together, bracing for whatever news is coming.

"He's stable," the doctor says, and Mara feels the whole room's collective breath release at once. "It was a heart attack, moderate severity, but we caught it quickly enough that the damage appears limited. We're going to keep him for observation, likely several days, and there will be significant lifestyle changes required going forward — diet, exercise, stress management. But he's going to recover. He was very lucky, honestly, that you found him so quickly."

Eleanor breaks down fully at the news, relief overwhelming her careful composure entirely, and Adrian holds her through it, his own eyes wet with matching relief.

"Can we see him," Adrian asks, once Eleanor's composed herself slightly.

"Briefly. He's tired, but conscious and asking for you both, actually."

Richard looks smaller in the hospital bed than Mara's ever seen him, pale and hooked to various monitors, but his eyes, when they find Adrian and Mara entering the room, carry real warmth despite the obvious exhaustion.

"Sorry for the scare," he says, voice weaker than usual but recognizably himself. "Terrible timing. I had a meeting scheduled this afternoon I was actually looking forward to."

"Dad." Adrian's voice breaks, crossing to the bed immediately, taking his father's hand carefully. "You scared us half to death."

"I scared myself too, if I'm honest." Richard's expression softens, genuine vulnerability visible in a way Mara's rarely witnessed from him. "I kept thinking, lying on that kitchen floor, about everything I still wanted to do. Watch Amparo grow up properly. See whatever comes next for both of you. I've spent so many years believing I had unlimited time to eventually get things right. This morning taught me otherwise, rather abruptly."

"You have plenty of time still," Mara says, gently. "The doctor said you're going to recover fully, with the right changes."

"I intend to make those changes," Richard says, firm despite his obvious exhaustion. "Real ones, not just performed effort. I've spent a long time learning what it actually means to show up honestly, for the people who matter. I don't intend to let a heart attack undo that lesson now, when I've only just begun properly applying it."

They stay a while longer, careful not to overtire him, before finally leaving him to rest, Eleanor staying behind while Adrian and Mara head home to relieve the neighbor watching Amparo.

They tell Amparo carefully that evening, choosing words appropriate for her age while still being honest about the seriousness of what happened.

"Is Grandpa Richard going to be okay?" she asks, wide-eyed and worried, curled between them on the couch.

"He is," Adrian says, firm and reassuring. "The doctors caught it quickly, and he's going to make a full recovery. But he's going to need to make some changes to how he lives, going forward — better diet, more exercise, less stress. We're all going to help him with that."

"Can I visit him?"

"Soon, once he's feeling stronger. He'd love that."

Amparo settles into this reassurance with the particular trusting acceptance of a child secure in her parents' honesty, and after a while, she asks, quietly, "Are you scared, Daddy? About Grandpa?"

Adrian considers the question seriously, unwilling to dismiss her genuine concern with easy reassurance alone. "I was very scared today, yes. I still feel a little scared, honestly, even though the doctors say he's going to be fine. It's okay to feel scared about things like this. It just means you love someone very much."

"I love Grandpa Richard very much," Amparo says, simply, resting her head against her father's chest.

"I know you do, baby girl. He loves you just as much."

Richard's recovery, over the following weeks, unfolds with the particular determined discipline of a man genuinely committed to change rather than merely performing effort — actual dietary overhaul, a careful exercise regimen approved by his cardiologist, real, deliberate work toward managing the stress that's characterized so much of his professional life for decades.

"I've decided to step back from the firm," he announces, several weeks into his recovery, the whole family gathered for a Sunday dinner that's become, over recent weeks, a more regular fixture than it once was. "Not entirely — I'll still consult on major decisions. But the daily operational stress, the constant travel, the pressure I've carried for thirty-five years — I'm finally ready to let that go."

"What will you do instead?" Mara asks, genuinely curious.

"Spend more time here, honestly. With this family. I've spent so many years believing my primary value lay in professional achievement, in providing rather than actually being present. This morning in January taught me, rather forcefully, exactly how much time I've already lost to that particular belief. I don't intend to keep making the same mistake, now that I understand better."

"That's a beautiful decision," Eleanor says, reaching for his hand, genuine warmth and relief evident in her expression.

"It's overdue," Richard says, simply. "But I intend to make the most of whatever time I have left, properly present this time, rather than just competent from a careful distance."

That evening, once the extended family's Sunday dinner has finally wound down and everyone's headed their separate ways, Mara and Adrian sit together on their porch, the January cold keeping them bundled in heavy coats despite their determination to maintain the ritual even through winter.

"I keep thinking about how close we came to losing him," Adrian says, quiet, watching his breath fog in the cold evening air. "How much would have been left unsaid, unfinished, if that heart attack had been worse."

"But it wasn't," Mara says, gently. "And I think, honestly, this scare has actually accelerated something good — watching him commit so fully to real change, real presence, in a way that might have taken years otherwise."

"You're right. I keep trying to find the meaning in scary things, I think, ever since everything we went through together. Trying to understand what hard experiences are actually teaching us, rather than just surviving them passively." Adrian pulls her closer against the cold. "I think this scare taught all of us something important — that presence, genuine presence, isn't something you can indefinitely postpone. That the time to actually show up for the people you love is now, always now, not some eventual someday you're assuming you'll have unlimited access to."

"That's a hard lesson, but a true one," Mara agrees, resting against him despite the cold. "I'm grateful he's still here to keep learning it. I'm grateful we all are, honestly, still building this family, still choosing each other, every single day, even through the scary parts."

They sit together a while longer despite the cold, watching their breath fog in the winter air, both of them thinking about the whole precious, fragile nature of the family they've built — chosen and reconciled both, genuinely loving despite years of hard, complicated history, present now in a way that none of them, at their separate lowest points, could have fully imagined themselves lucky enough to build.

"I love you," Mara says, finally, quiet against the cold. "And I'm grateful, every single day, for exactly this family, exactly this life, hard parts included."

"I love you too," Adrian says, holding her close against the winter chill. "Every single precious, fragile, completely worth it day of it."