Page 59 of Snapping the Ice
“Two.” I fought to focus on him. I had to get back into the game.
With a slow smirk, he said, “What day is it?”
“Wednesday.” I eyed him. Would he let this go?
“Let’s get you up and tell me if you have any nausea.” Grabbing my arm, he helped me to stand.
Crosby skated by and stopped. “You okay, man? That was ahell of a save, knocking the puck away with your head.” He chortled.
“Yeah, whatever.” I did what I had to do. I peeked at Harrison. “What do you think? Can I play?” I had the best damn helmet money could buy.
“Nope. Per protocol, any hits to the head take you out for the rest of the game. I want you checked out by the team doc and then we’ll see about the next games.”
“Fuck.” I knew that. Didn’t mean I couldn’t hope. “Okay.” Hanging my head, I skated off the ice. “It’s up to you guys now.” I shouted at the guys on the bench.
Coach Sullivan patted me on the back as I walked past him. “You did a great job out there. Go let the doc examine you.”
“Thanks, Coach.” With a sharp sigh, I made my way through the tunnel. This sucked.
That evening, I was resting on my bed in my hotel room with my phone in my hand. Despite Ezra’s worry and text about the hit, I couldn’t find the time to call him. I dialed his number.
The call barely rang before it picked up. “Lucas? Are you okay?”
With my chest warming, I said, “Yeah, I’m okay. There are no blaring signs of concussion, but the team doc wants me to take a few days off the ice just in case.” So, I’d be hitting the gym instead of the rink until our next home game.
“Oh, good. I can’t believe you got a puck to the head. Are you supposed to throw yourself in front of the goal like that?”
“Yeah, it happens. It’s not always the smartest decision, but in this case, it worked.” The game had been close, but we’d won in overtime. As the door cracked open, I glanced toward it.
Crosby ambled into the room with a beer bottle in his hand. Holding his fist over his head, he whooped. “We won!” He stumbled and righted himself.
“Fuckin’ A, how much did you drink?” With a chuckle, I shook my head. The guys had a celly in the hotel bar downstairs. But of course, I wasn’t supposed to be drinking.
“Enough.” With a crooked smile, he gulped some beer down. “You talking to your boyfriend?”
“Yeah.” My eyes widened. Fuck, did Ezra hear that? “Um, why don’t you go back down there? It’s still early.” Usually, the cellys lasted most of the night if we didn’t play the next day.
“I wanted to make sure you were okay.” He stepped toward me and giggled. “The guys are calling you Iron-Clad Hopkins down there.”
I rolled my eyes. “Of course they are.” With a huff, I held my phone to my ear. “Sorry, Ezra, Evan’s hammered already and bugging me. It’s what he does.”
“Oh, I’m bugging you?” He lifted his index finger from his beer glass, pointing it at me. “Sorry…” He fell sideways onto my bed. “Hey Ezra, I hope you know what you’re getting into with him.”
I tossed Evan a glare. “Shut up.” I didn’t need him putting any shit into Ezra’s head.
“Oh? Put me on speaker, Lucas,” Ezra said.
“Shit.” I tapped the speaker button and held the phone out. This was probably a bad idea. “Ezra, remember Evan is shitfaced.”
“I’m not that bad.” Evan scoffed and scooted up next to me at the headboard. “Ezra, I’ve never seen my boy Lucas here so enamored with anyone before.” The corner of his lips edged up. “You put a spell on him or some shit?”
“That’s good to know, Evan. Thank you,” Ezra said.
“Okay, that’s all I wanted to say.” Evan shimmiedoff the bed and staggered toward the door. “You both behave now and no phone sex. Lucas has to rest and getting his heart rate up isn’t good for him.” He swung the door open and left.
“Jesus…” Rubbing my eyes, I chuckled. “Don’t listen to him.” I didn’t have any symptoms of a concussion, but everyone treated me like I had one.
“Will you be able to, uh, have sex when you get back?” Ezra asked.
