Page 42 of Forecheck
I didn’t realize then how prophetic my words would be.
“JEAN!” Coach yelled, and I didn’t hesitate before throwing myself over the boards, eyes zeroing in on the puck.
Mitch had it on his stick behind our net and passed it to me as I raced out. I skated it down the side and out to center ice, trying to hurry and catch our opponent on a bad change. One of the Quakers caught up with me and trailed me to the corner, where he pushed me against the boards and stuck his stick between my legs.
“At least buy me dinner first,” I said as we continued to fight for the puck.
“Fuck you,” the guy growled in response.
I drove my elbow back into his stomach, earning me a few inches of space. I yanked on my stick, trying to free it from where it tangled in the legs of another Quaker who had joined the scrum. At last, it came loose, and I kicked the puck out of the circle, attempting to turn and get free.
At once, I had the distinct impression of falling.
Then everything went black.
Flashes of light had me blinking my eyes, and I only picked up every few words through the deafening, intermittent buzzing in my brain.
“…you…hear? You…bad hit…taking…hospital…”
Before I could make sense of anything, blackness descended again.
The next several minutes—hours? days? I had no idea—passed in a wave of too-bright lights, faces I didn’t recognize, and a lot of coming in and out of consciousness.
When I woke at last, I cracked my eyes open to find myself lying in a hospital bed.
“Fuck,” I groaned, that one word and the resulting exhalation making my head throb. I scrunched my eyes shut against the pain.
“Thank God,” a female voice said.
“Berk?”
“You wish, lover boy.”
I opened my eyes again, blinking to bring the brunette woman at my bedside into focus.
“Lexie?” I asked. “What are you—”
“Berk asked me to come check on you.”
“How did you even get in here?”
“I told the nurses I was your sister.”
I studied her for a moment. I supposed if I squinted and titled my head at a certain angle…the brown hair and height could have her passing for another Jean sibling.
“Well, it’s nice to wake up to a familiar face,” I said. “What even happened? The last thing I remember was fighting for that puck in the corner.”
“Some dickbag from Pittsburgh crosschecked you from behind. You slammed your chin on the edge of the boards and passed out. There was blood everywhere.”
For the first time, I noticed the faint throb on my jawline, and I tipped my head back. Running shaking fingers across the underside, I winced when I encountered the stitches slightly to the right of center. My flesh was tender and swollen, and I instantly ran my tongue across my teeth, breathing a sigh of relief when I noted they were all still intact. A quick inventory of the rest of my body revealed no other injuries.
Minus the splitting headache, of course.
“Okay,” I said. “Concussion: check. Not my first, surely won’t be my last. Same goes for the stitches. I’m just glad my teeth are okay.”
Lexie rolled her eyes, but a chuckle escaped her anyway.
“When was your last one?”
