Page 51 of The Price of Ice

“Does your foot... hurt?” Levy guessed.

Kallen couldn’t possibly speak without screaming, so he reached out for Levy’s hand on his face and dragged it to his thigh, then tried to bring his knee up, grunting at the effort.

“Are you...?” Levy’s fingers twitched against his pyjama-covered thigh. “Okay, just—” He vaulted over Kallen’s legs, ending on the opposite side of the bed, then shoved the covers off him completely. “Come on, get up.”

He took the proffered hand, half hoping it was all in his head, and then Levy pulled. But when Kallen tried to twist his body to the side, he ended up falling onto his elbow, bottom half left behind.

Levy cursed, low and heartfelt. “Fuck!”

Kallen didn’t look up at him. This couldn’t be happening, not after everything.

Except of course it would because that was just his life, wasn’t it? Working his arse off, and trying to be a good sport about the omega stuff, and then not doing enough and getting punished for it, which of course led to more problems because somehow, no matter how many times life used him as a punching ball, a part of him refused to believe that’s how lifeworked. Pretending he deserved more than he did, that he could have it without doing the work. He hadn’t go into that fucking changing room like the coward he was and here was the result, his body freaking out so—

“Kallen.”There was a little will into it, which was probably the only reason he heard it.

He managed a noise in response.

“Okay, come on.” Levy was already dragging all the pillows behind him and helping him get comfortable in his awkward sitting position. Kallen allowed it. He was at the end of his rope, he might as well let Levy do whatever he wanted, Kallen was pretty much done wanting anything.

His friend sat by his side, leg bent against Kallen’s own useless one. He cupped Kallen’s face again and tugged until Kallen turned his way.

“Do you trust me?”

Kallen stared at him, frozen.

“Okay,” Levy said, his eyes were shining, but he blinked back the tears. “It’s okay if you hate me later.”

It should have been a terrifying statement, especially when he was trapped in bed and no one would know to come get him for days. But when Levy put his other a hand on his cheek, Kallen’s fell shut and he relaxed into it. Maybe it was insane, but he did. He trusted him.

Levy’s breath stirred the fine hairs on his neck as he leaned in and ordered, “Tell me what’s wrong. All of it.”

It was charged, strong and imperative and inescapable. But there was a gentleness to it too, like Levy’s grip on him, holding him in place but not hurting him.

The order pushed right against the barriers Kallen had created to protect himself, and he whimpered at the pressure. “I... McKinley—” The name was enough to make his whole body seize and jerk in place. Their captain had never explicitly told Kallen not to talk about it, but he knew he wasn’t supposed to, anyway.

Levy hissed, hands leaving his face to grab at his shoulders. “What did he do?”

Kallen opened his mouth, but no words came, his tongue was thick and pasty. His nose was stuffing up all of a sudden, and his face was wet. The compulsion demanded he keep speaking, and to resist it, his body was making sure he couldn’tbreathe.

He didn’t realise he wasn’t just painting but shaking until Levy swung over to straddle his lap. “It’s okay,” he told him, urgent and true, dragging him into an embrace, offering his chest for Kallen to gasp against, his strong back for Kallen’s hands to cling to as if to the edge of a cliff. Except he was already falling, all Levy was doing was holding on to him as he did. “I’m sorry, you don’t have to tell me. I know he hurt you,” he was murmuring, rocking them a little, and he was trying to help but it only hurt all the more. That Levy knew, that Kallen had—

Afterwards, it was all a bit of a blur. He must have cried himself to sleep, and he’d woken up again weirdly slumped over all the pillows and with Levy half on him, anchoring him to the bed, and his mouth parched. Levy had straightened at once, obviously sensing the change in his breathing. He was studying Kallen’s face closely.

He must have seen something there because he jumped off the bed, already announcing. “You should eat something.”

“Water?” Kallen had requested, and Levy had reacted like he’d asked for a key to diffuse a bomb, glancing about the room until he’d found the glass on Kallen’s bedside and passed it over. Levy had watched him sip at it like he was afraid he’d lose it all over again, and Kallen had wanted to roll over and just hide his face in the million pillows. Except he couldn’t even do that, his legs were still not responding. “Practice?” he asked.

Levy’s eyes widened in alarm. Had he completely forgotten about their jobs? “It’s fine,” he told Kallen, obviously making it up as he went. “I’ll take care of it. You can’t—” He cut himself off, but Kallen was already looking away, feeling like he might spewthe water all over himself at the thought. “You should rest,” Levy added.

But all Kallen could hear were the words he hadn’t said.You can’t skate.

And if he couldn’t skate...

“I’M SORRY,” LEVY TOLDhim as Kallen pushed the food around his plate. He’d put a few morsels into his mouth and made himself chew and swallow, but his stomach was already churning with renewed nausea. “I should have called the doctor right away. I don’t know what I was thinking.”

Kallen dropped his fork with a clatter and set the plate beside him on the bed, muscles tensing. “You called Maslow?”

“Yeah.” Levy was frowning at him. “I mean, I know he’s not a specialist, but he knows your history, and...” He trailed off, clearly unsure.

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