“So, are you going down there to flirt with her before or after the game?” Jaxon turns his attention toward me.
“Or maybe you’ll go over during one of the intermissions?” Fletcher asks.
“And what makes you think I’m gonna go over there at all?”
“Because you’re Zeke.” Declan chuckles. “When you see a woman you like, you approach her.”
“Not tonight.”
I guess now would be the perfect time to tell them I’m not going over there to flirt with her because there’s only one girl on my mind. The only girl I care to see after this game.
“I’m with Zeke on this one,” Cam begins, “I don’t think approaching Dylan Rhodes' daughter during a game is a bright idea for any of us. He could shoot a puck right at us.”
“Totally worth the risk,” Jaxon mumbles.
“Nope.” I smack the back of his head. “Tonight is about us. Just the guys.”
“I never thought I’d hear those words from the ladies' man.” Declan looks over at me. “Turning over a new leaf?”
“Something like that.”
It’s the third period, and we’re up by one, which means nothing in hockey. They could end up beating us by ten if they worked hard enough. Rhodes has been on his shit tonight, though. He scored two of our four goals and assisted on a third.
You’d think he’s trying to prove himself to somebody with how well he’s playing tonight. Not that I didn’t expect it. Rhodes is the kind of player who feels like they can always do better.
“I heard this is his last year.” Declan leans over to me. “That his body’s telling him it’s time.”
“Bullshit,” I argue. “Rhodes is still one of the best players in the league. It’d be stupid for him to leave now. I think he’s playing even better now than he did ten years ago.”
“Sometimes your body knows before your mind does,” Jere chimes in. “Better to get out before it’s too late. Why risk an injury that could change everything when you’ve had nearly twenty years in the league?”
“I don’t know, man, but this team is fucking killing it tonight, and I don’t know if we’d be winning right now if it wasn’t for Rhodes,” Fletcher says. “It’s like the Hawks are one person on that ice. They’re reading each other perfectly tonight.”
“Yeah, and those fucking Blues have gotten away with a ton of shitty hits tonight, so who knows what the score would be if they didn’t.” Jaxon leans forward as Rhodes grabs the puck and glides down the ice.
He flicks the puck as he approaches the goal, but their goalie catches it right before it crosses the line. There’s a collective groan among the Hawks fans, with applause sprinkled in from the Blues fans.
Their applause grows louder as one of the Blues players gets the puck from their goalie and rushes toward the other end of the ice. Our team is ready for it, though, preventing any of them from getting close enough to shoot an actual shot.
And before we know it, the puck is back in our possession, and we’re heading back to the other end. I feel like I might get whiplash from the constant jumping around this puck is doing, especially during this last period. Both teams have had ample shots on goal, but neither team has been able to seal the deal this period.
Rhodes is standing near the wall, closer to the center ice than the goal, which allows our other players to shoot wide at him in an attempt to get free from the Blues’ players. He shoots the puck back toward78and skates down toward the net. He positions himself in the corner, and that’s when I notice one of their players skating toward him. There’s so much speed behind this player;it’s like he’s charging at Rhodes on purpose… even though he doesn’t have the puck.
Rhodes turns right as their player slams into him. The momentum from the hit sends Rhodes’ helmet flying one way as his body flies over the Blues player.
Everything happens in slow motion after that. You can feel the tension in the air as Rhodes’ body flies, and the second his body connects with the ground, you can hear the crack of his skull. Everyone in the stadium doesn’t know what to do. Everyone’s on their feet, but I can’t tell if anyone is even breathing—
I know I’m not.
I can’t even comprehend what just happened.
Then, the refs speed toward Rhodes, whistles in their mouths. The whistle sounds a thousand times louder with how quiet the stadium is.
He’s not moving.
And I think I see blood… or I’m seeing things. But I’m not too hopeful that the blood isn’t actually there. He hit the ice hard. I don’t even think he’d be getting up right now if his helmet was on. That’s how hard the hit was. And then the blow of the ice right after. I can’t imagine two hits like that back-to-back.
The medical team rushes onto the ice. I don’t know if they even know what to expect as they approach him… and then it hits me—