His Olympics buddy.
He grabbed his phone when he got back to the bed, grinning like a crazy man as he texted Hawk to thank him. The communication between them ebbed and flowed depending on how busy they were, and with the Olympics lead-up, Caleb had let it slide.
Hey, man, got the gift basket. Thx
Hey, no prob
The answer came back with gratifying speed. Caleb glanced at the clock. Noonish.
What time is it there?
9pm. No game tonight
oh cool. You got a minute? No weight bearing. Bored out of my mind
He got a devil smiley back.
The things I could do with that
He laughed out loud, because damn that was good to hear, even if Hawk didn’t even mean it.
Thanks
I can chat for a bit. Plug in your phone, babe so we can get some good texting in
Will do
He was plugged in and ready, and he grabbed his cookies, happier than he’d been in a long while.
Even if his damn foot was broken.
Eight
Denver, Colorado 2025
Hawk felt a tearing, popping, screaming sensation in his knee the moment he got hit on his last drive to goal in the final seconds of the third period.
He would have loved to say that Wolford didn’t mean to hit him so goddamn hard, but the guy had it in for him, especially since Hawk had scored fifteen goals in the five games it had taken for them to win the Stanley Cup final.
He went down, sliding into the boards and biting back a shout when he slammed his leg again.
“What the fuck?” Terry Harrow, one of defenders, went after Wolford, checking him against the glass. “The fucking game was over, you dick!”
“Hawk. Cap. You okay?” His left wing, Connor Labieau knelt next to him.
He shook his head, nausea clawing at him. No. No, he was not okay. “Get me up.” The buzzer had gone off, the other team was filing off the ice, the carpet coming out.
“Cap, your leg looks a little wonky.”
He wasn’t looking. If he looked, he would know something was really wrong, and he had to get up.
“Up.” His voice sounded like he was running a rock over a cheese grater.
He had no idea how long it took, and medical was out on the ice by the time he was balanced on his uninjured leg, two of his teammates supporting him. Sweat poured off him, and Hawk felt like he was gonna puke.
“Get him to the bench!” someone barked, and he was hurried off the ice while the cup award stuff was set up on the ice, and the players started to gather.
“Just put a brace on me,” he rumbled. “I need to be out there for this.”