“You good?” Wyatt raised his voice over the noise. “You looked like you were going to rip Johnny to pieces when you pushed him.”
I grunted. “I’m fine.” Other than the fact that the man I was still in love with didn’t want me. But whatever.
“Okay.” Wyatt squeezed my arm, then he skated off.
I let my gaze drift to where I knew my dads were sitting, along with the rest of our family and friends. I had gone to Reed’s place yesterday in hopes that he would come watch the game tonight, but that, too, was just a broken dream. Just like hewas. And I spent the night drowning my sorrows in bad alcohol that only made me feel worse.
Tom Olson was in the crease tonight, which meant Oscar was sitting on the bench. I hopped over the wall to drop into the seat next to him, and he gently nudged my leg with his knee. I smiled at him, but soon my mind began to wonder back to Reed. What was he doing tonight? Was he with someone else, or was he as miserable as I was? Did he even really love me at all, or had he just said those words because I did?
Oscar leaned over so he could speak into my ear. “Your boy’s here tonight.”
“My what? How do you even know that?” I twisted my body to stare at him. “He’s not my anything. Not anymore.”
Oscar smirked. “Tate told me.”
“Oh, and is Tate your boy now?” I hissed. I immediately regretted it when Oscar’s face fell and he turned away. “Shit, man, I didn’t mean that.”
Oscar shrugged. “It’s fine.”
“No, I’m just being an asshole for no reason.”
“You are, but I’m used to that.”
I snorted. “Look, whatever is happening between you and Tate is none of my business. Just know that I’m here for you. For better or worse, right?” I held out my fist, and he bumped it.
“Thanks.” Oscar turned his attention back to the game, and so did I.
None of the guys were able to keep the puck or make another goal, but this was only second period. We still had a whole other team to beat after this one before we could claim the Cup. It felt like a lifetime away.
Just as one of the other team’s captain tried to score a goal, someone slammed into Tom. I watched in horror as our goalie landed against the net and dropped onto the ice. I knew he was fine, he was dressed for stuff like that, but all hell began to breakloose as Wyatt jumped on the man who hit Tom and yanked him to his feet. I was on the ice again before I could think twice about it, throwing my gloves off, ready to hit the first Colorado player I came across. I landed a couple of good punches before he hit me back.Hard. I tried to take the guy with me when I started to fall, grabbing at his jersey, but he managed to untangle my fingers from his uniform, and I felt my head hit the ice. I saw stars behind my eyes as I struggled to get up despite my helmet.
“Don’t move.” Wyatt was next to me. “You hit your head?”
I nodded even when I didn’t want to. “But I’m fine.”
“No, you’re not,” Wyatt told me. “You’re going to have to get checked out now, kid. Concussion protocol.”
I tried to sit up. “I’m okay!” I shouted as pain raced through my body.
And then everything went black.
WHEN I WOKE AGAIN,it was dark. I knew immediately I was in the hospital. I recognized the smell of antiseptic, heard the sound of the heart monitor as it hummed next to me. The game flashed in my mind. The defense-man who took me down on the ice. Panic began to set in. Was it that bad? What if I never played again? What if everything I had worked for was gone?
“How are you feeling?”
I glanced over to find my father sitting in the chair next to my bed. I noticed the shirt he wore was wrinkled, and his hair was a messy halo on his head. Like maybe he’d been running his hands through it. But he looked tired. And worried.
“Okay,” I croaked out. My throat was dry.
Dad stood up and reached over to pour a glass of water into the paper cup. When he handed it to me, his lips curved up into a small smile. “You scared us tonight,” he told me as I gulped down my water.
“That wasn’t my intention.” I leaned back against the pillow. “Where is Dean?”
Dad flicked on the light by the bed, and I grimaced as the brightness hit me. “I sent him home to relieve the sitter. He’ll be back in the morning. I wanted...No, I needed to stay.”
“I just want to go home.” I turned away as my vision blurred. “This bed isn’t very comfortable, and I hate how it smells. Dad, can you ask them to let me go home now?”
He squeezed my arm. “Tomorrow, kiddo.”