Page 12 of Lighting the Lamp
“Grab water and reset. Two minutes.”
I don’t look up, but I can feel Coach coming toward me. I can’t look him in the eye now, not when the fear and worry are bubbling so close to the surface. The edge of his blades comes into view for a moment before he speaks. “Beau, stay in the crease and take a breath.”
His voice isn’t loud but is pointed just enough to sound like a routine change. It’s a lifeline dressed as a suggestion. I nod without lifting my head as the guys head toward the bench. I press the heel of my blocker to my chest and try to count out a steady breath, reaching for my water bottle and missing it the first time. My hand is shaking almost uncontrollably, but I try again. This time I get it, but the rink is still moving, and I can’t tell if it’s me or the ice.
Don’t look panicked. Don’t look weak. You’re the wall. You don’t fall.
I stand slowly, like I’m made of iron and someone forgot to oil the hinges, and move toward the bench. I just need to sit down for a few minutes to rest, and then I’ll bounce back like I always do.
“Beau!” Parker’s voice cuts across the ice like a blade.
It’s too loud in a place that usually muffles everything under the hum of the arena, but I don’t stop. My skates are barely gliding across the ice; if I stop, I don’t know if I’ll be able to move again.
“Beau. Stop.”
His tone shifts slightly, sounding much closer than it was before. It’s more controlled than usual. It sounds a lot like Momma did when she caught me and Cooper standing on the roof, trying to figure out if Red Bull really would give us wings. We knew it wouldn’t; we weren’t dumb, but it was the highest place we could find to jump into the pool.
I don’t turn around; just three more strides, and I can make it to the boards and pretend this is nothing. Pretend I’m fine. I’m good at plastering on a smile, cracking some corny jokes, and deflecting everyone’s attention to something else. But somehow Parker comes to a stop in front of me, and I cock my head slightly, wondering how he moved so quickly.
“Beau.” He whispers my name, wrapping his gloved hands around my arm, and I come to a stop, not because I want to, but because I don’t have a choice.
My knees buckle slightly, but I lock them, trying to stay upright. Every muscle pulls tight, trembling with the effort of keeping my body in place. The lights above bloom into too-bright white halos, bleeding into my vision. My heartbeat slams, heavy and off-rhythm, like it’s trying to break out of my chest.
“Look at me.” Parker’s voice softens, but the edge is still there, buried just under the surface. “Did you eat today?”
“Yeah.” The word scrapes out, brittle and dry, knowing it’s a lie.
“When?”
I open my mouth and… nothing. I can’t even answer a simple question because any answer I give would be a lie. I don’t even remember the last time I ate. Was it this morning? Two days ago? Everything is floating just out of reach.
The cold air turns razor sharp in my lungs as the panic overtakes me. What’s going on with me? I don’t panic. I’m the calm one, the rock, the person everyone comes to when they need to calm down or a reality check.
I see Cooper stepping off the bench, helmet off, jaw tight, and hands clenched at his sides. His entire body is tense, like a spring about to snap. His shoulders rise and fall too fast, like he’s trying not to rush onto the ice. His eyes lock on mine, and I swear I feel his fear. What the hell is making my brother panic? He’s barely keeping it in check, and that hits me harder than the dizziness. Cooper rarely panics, especially not on the ice, but he is now.
Everyone’s looking at me like something’s wrong, and I’m about to crumble into a million pieces right here in front of them. I can feel all their eyes burning holes into my jersey. I want to wave them all off and let them know I’m fine. Tell them it’s no big deal, just low blood sugar or something, but I can’t this time.
Jace takes a step toward me, slow and cautious, as if I’m a caged animal ready to strike at any moment. Mack’s frowning, his gaze full of concern and confusion. Coach says something I can’t hear, but he’s moving in my direction, as well.
My mask slips from my fingers as they go numb, hitting the ice with a sharp crack. The sound ricochets off the boards like a gunshot. I don’t remember unclipping and taking it off, let alone letting it go. My stick is the next thing to go, and I reach for it, causing the rink to spin.
My knees go soft. No, that’s not the right way to describe it. It’s like it just disappears, no longer able to support my weight, and my body folds in on itself. The overhead lights blur, smearing across my vision like someone dragged a wet brush over a canvas as the ice rushes up to meet me. My heartbeat kicks—once, twice—then sprints off rhythm and out of sync. Way too fast to be normal, but then nothing, or maybe it’s just lost somewhere behind the roaring in my ears.
Voices, skates slicing against the ice as Cooper’s face barrels into view. His eyes are wide, his mouth moving fast, but the words don’t land. I can’t make sense of anything he’s saying before the darkness rushes in, fast and final.
Chapter Five
Beau
Something tugs at me from the dark, like a hand has reached down and grabbed hold of me. A part of me wants to stay in the darkness without a care in the world, but there’s a stronger part of me pushing me toward the light. A pull low in my gut, dragging me slowly toward the surface one inch at a time, but I can’t move or breathe right. My chest is tight, like someone strapped a weight to it. Each breath rasps in slow and ragged, shallow and impossibly hard to continue, but I do.
My ears are useless at first, but then sound bleeds through in patches. Distant at first. A dull beep. A machine humming. The scratch of Velcro as it’s adjusted. The subtle squeak of shoes against tile. And then muffled voices, like someone turned the volume way down and pressed fast-forward.
“You should’ve said something sooner?—”
“Don’t yell in here.”
My eyelids feel fused shut, sealed with heat and grit. Everything burns behind them. My head throbs, not in pulses, but in constant pressure, like it’s trapped in a vise and someone’s still tightening it. A scent curls around me—disinfectant, bleach, and latex—and my stomach lurches, causing me to gag.
