Page 37 of Goalie and the Girl Next Door
The bleating grows louder. Panicked. Urgent.
Clément throws open the barn door and everything stills for a split second—and then I see her.
Lily. Crumpled on the floor near the old feed storage cabinet. One of the sliding doors has come off its track and tipped forward. It didn’t fall all the way, thank God, but it wedged her in—trapped from the waist down, unconscious, her fingers slack around a plastic scoop.
“Lily!” I rush to her, heart in my throat.
Clément’s already there, crouched beside the cabinet. “She’s breathing,” he says, voice low and unwavering. “But we have to get this off her. Now.”
Without waiting, he wedges his shoulder under the edge of the cabinet, bracing his feet. Muscles tense, he groans as he lifts—inch by inch—until there’s enough space to slide her out. I guide her legs free and ease her gently to the ground.
“I’ve got her,” I murmur, brushing her hair back to check for injuries. Her pulse is strong, and I feel her breathing deepen.
Clément lets the cabinet drop with a metallic thud and drops to one knee beside us, chest heaving. He’s already scanning her like it’s second nature.
“I’ve seen guys hit their heads on the ice and not wake up right away,” he says, his hand hovering near her templewithout touching. “We keep her flat, don’t move her neck. We don’t know if it’s just a bump or if it’s more serious.”
I nod, already stripping off my jacket to roll and wedge beneath her knees. “We need to keep her warm. I’ll call the ambulance.”
“She might come to,” he adds, voice calm but tight. “If she does, we keep her still, talk to her, don’t let her sit up too fast.”
Lily’s fingers twitch. A soft, garbled sound escapes her lips.
“Lil?” I say gently, leaning closer. “You’re safe. We’re right here.”
Her eyelids flutter. Then she blinks, confused and dazed, but awake.
Clément exhales beside me. “Good girl.”
I rush to the door of the small barn while Clément cradles her. “Angel! Scotty! Get over here!”
“You’re going to be okay,” Clément is whispering as Lily blinks awake.
Angel’s voice cuts through the air as she bursts through the barn doors, apron still dusted with flour. “My girl!” She kneels beside me just as Lily turns her head.
Scotty appears seconds later. He drops beside his daughter, his hand wrapping gently around hers.
“Daddy’s here,” he says, voice trembling as she fully opens her eyes. “I’ve got you, sweetheart.”
Lily starts to cry—quiet, hiccuping sobs—and Scotty gathers her into his arms. His eyes are wet. “Thank you,” he says, looking at me.
“It wasn’t me,” I say softly. “Clément knew something was wrong. He got her out.”
We both turn to look at him.
“Actually,” Clément says, chest still rising and falling, “we should be thanking Edgar.”
We follow his gaze. The goat is standing nearby, silent now. Watchful. Not chewing. Not bleating. Not even blinking.
Clément walks over to him and kneels down. “You did good,mon grand.” His hands gently scratch behind Edgar’s ears, and the goat melts into Clément’s hand. Seems Edgar is more sensitive than I ever gave him credit for.
“You’re a good team,” Angel says, wiping tears from her eyes.
“Edgar, Marcy, and me,” Clément whispers as Angel turns back to Lily and Scotty. Clément smiles as he continues scratching Edgar behind the ears. “Let me say this while we’re in a moment of straight honesty. I’m not doing those events. Not the auction, not the water stunt. I can’t bring myself to do it, not like that.”
My shoulders relax so fast I almost sway forward. I didn’t realize how tightly I was wound up.
“I’ll find another way to help,” he adds. “But I won’t sell myself like a novelty item.”
