Page 27 of Off Limits PUCK

As everyone in the crowd starts to chant, I join them, my heart lighter now that I have a plan of escape from the clutches of my own lustfulness for Jake. I lift my arms up and clap over my head along with everyone else. I can feel the eyes of a thousand people on me as I cheer, dancing and laughing, lost in the happiness of the moment.

I grow self-conscious for just a moment before I realize that I’m on the Jumbotron. Everyone seated below the suites has turned to look at me, cheering at me. I wonder how long I’ve been on the huge screens for all the arena to see.

I grin and wave, inwardly wishing the camera would just move on. Then, I feel Kenz beside me, really hamming it up. I take the opportunity to step aside, seeing her be featured on the Jumbotron instead of me.

Then the cameras pan to the ice, and on the big screen I see him. Jake. He’s caught mid-stare, looking up at the Jumbotron where my face was just featured. He looks grim, standing there, hockey stick in hand, helmet on as the team takes the customary position for the puck drop.

I see him jerk his eyes away once he sees the cameras on him. I look down at the ice far, far below me. Everyone is ready to go, but not Jake. He’s standing while his opponent is crouched over, stick at the ready. The whistle blows and Jake suddenly gets into position, ready to win the puck drop and send the puck over to his teammates.

But he doesn’t win the puck drop. The opponent does. Kenz groans as the whole stadium boos—not at Jake but at the opposing team who takes possession of the puck, sliding it over the ice amongst themselves in an effort to set up for a shot in the net.

I slump in my seat, feeling like it’s all my fault. Coach sent me home so I wouldn’t be a distraction to Jake. And here I am, so caught up in the happiness of my little career plan, in the excitement of the arena, that I allowed the cameras to stay on me, parading myself like that for Jake to see.

I’m so caught up in my own feelings that I am the last person in the whole arena to realize that Jake just went down on the ice, crumpled up while the referee’s whistle shrieks and all the suits behind the players’ bench rush to the ice to Jake’s side.

Chapter sixteen

Jake

Searing pain flashes throughmy shoulder. I see stars as my head collides with the ice, my helmet absorbing only some of the impact. Cold shards of ice from razor sharp skates splash on my face as two referees come to a screeching halt right by my face. I feel hands on me, trying to get me up and off the ice.

I use my good arm to push everyone away. I have to be strong. I have to pretend that I’m not in pain. I can’t let anyone see my weakness. They’ll just use it against me. These thoughts, this understanding of how men on the ice are, push me to a sitting position. I grit my teeth, use my good arm to push me to my knees, and then I stand.

The crowd erupts into a cheer that fills the stadium. I need to give them something to believe in. These are fans who are here today to see the Eagles win, not to see me let us all down. Paincovers me from my shoulder, down my arm, and up my neck. All I feel is pain. All I want is relief.

Gator and the guys surround me in a loose circle, tradition when one of our own goes down to try to keep the cameras from being able to zoom in and see any moment of weakness. I am vaguely aware of his voice, of the referees’ voices, and then as I force myself to skate to the bench, of Coach’s voice.

The circle of players breaks enough for me to step off the ice. I can hear the loud, pulsating music as the arena adjusts to play being stopped. I hear Coach yelling at the assistant captain to get his line ready. I’m in a daze. I’m disoriented. I’m burning up and I’m also shockingly cold. The temperature swings alone tell me that this was no small hit I just took—this is huge.

Coach’s voice is in my ear as he grips my good arm. “We had this under wraps. But some jerkoff on the other team took an intentional hit on you. His ass is in the penalty box, but I’m yelling at the referees here to review the footage. He needs to be expelled.”

His words are too rapid fire for my woozy brain. I can’t even focus on him. I feel like I might puke. It’s debilitating to realize that I probably have a concussion. That’ll mean several days or weeks off the ice. I open my mouth to swear, but it just makes my head pound more.

Jones is now standing where Coach was. I realize then that they want me out of sight and back in the locker rooms. Jonesis telling me to walk. Coach is yelling at the referees. Gator is telling me I better get out of view of the cameras.

How do I tell them that walking out right now feels like the end of my career? I can’t leave. I can’t be written off as a has been and let some young guys take over. I can’t do it. So I stay there. Jones tries to forcibly move me, but without being able to touch one entire side of my torso due to my bum shoulder, his efforts are in vain.

The lights in the arena go down as the break lengthens and the team’s AV crew try to cover for me by playing some team promo video on the Jumbotron. I think of Allie on the Jumbotron.

I find myself saying one word over and over again: Allie.

I won’t leave the ice or the bench without her. It’s stupid. She made her choice to not be there for me last night, but in my moment of need, she’s all I want. The pain from my head sends another wave of nausea through me. Only then do I lift my eyes up from their dogged stare down at the rubber flooring. I had been zoning out, focusing on nothing like a mummy locked in place.

Small hands circle my waist, with one supporting my muscled abs and the other on my lower back. Allie.

I can’t hear a word she’s saying, but I know she wants me to move. In my skates I tower over her more than usual, and we take wobbly steps toward the hallway that will take us away from the ice… maybe forever. I don’t know why I demanded herpresence. And I don’t know why right now having her by my side makes everything better. I just know that it does.

The sudden movement from the darkened arena to the hallway and then to the brightly lit back hallways sends my head spinning. Definitely a concussion. I can’t find my words without my head splitting.

“Don’t talk. Don’t think. Just listen. I’m here. We’re going to stabilize your body temperature. You’re freezing cold, Jake. And you’re sweating.” Allie’s voice is strong. She sounds so sure.

“Then we will see if you need to go to the ER,” Jones adds.

I groan my reply. “No.”

I don’t want to go to a hospital. I don’t want this to become a big deal. I just want a pill or a shot to make the pain go away. Then, I want to get back out there on the ice. I need to get back there on the ice.

I sink down onto a metal bench outside the showers. Two PTs start to take my skates off. Jones pulls off my jersey and my undershirt. I feel him gently prodding my shoulder. In light of the pain of my head, the shoulder pain feels like a one out of ten.

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