Page 110 of The Last Guy On Earth
He steps back, gives me a sad smile, and shuts my half of the double door with a very quiet click.
I use the next ninety seconds to pull on my pants and a T-shirt. “Sorry,” I say, opening the door. “I was having a lazy morning.”
“Can’t say I blame you,” says Doc Whitesmith, the team physician. He’s followed into my room by Kevin Tang, our head trainer.
“Uh-oh,” I grumble. “Don’t take this the wrong way, boys, but seeing the two of you in my hotel room first thing in the morning can’t be good news.”
Whitesmith slowly shakes his head. “It’s Volkov’s back. He’s in a lot more pain than he let on. The pain has sharpened, and now it’s radiating down his legs.”
“Aw, hell.” I feel sick. “So it’s a disc?”
“Probably a herniated disc,” the doctor hedges. “We’ll send him for an MRI tomorrow, first thing. I didn’t bring him up here because that fool is insisting he’s good to play. He gave the usual speech—Russian machine never breaks!”
Oh, Volkov.“If he has a serious disc injury, I’m not playing him no matter how hard he whines. He could have permanent nerve damage if we don’t intervene, right?”
The trainer nods. “We’ll have to see the scans, but the course of treatment would be rest, cortisone shots, the works.”
“Yeah. Sorry, Coach,” the doctor says. “I got a bad feeling.”
“Okay. Keep me posted. And I’ll make sure the other goaltenders are aware.”
They depart a minute later, and I stand in my quiet hotel room, trying to steer my brain back onto the finals. I take out my phone and message Jethro.
Were you eavesdropping?
You call it eavesdropping. I call it being well-informed.
Your well-informed ass is going to be playing a lot of hockey next week.
That’s what I’m here for, Coach. Not just another pretty face.
Make sure your pretty face is on the jet in two hours. We’ve got work to do.
He sends me a saluting emoji.
FORTY-NINE
Jethro
“You’re coming overto watch the game, right?” Newgate says to me in the airport parking lot. “I’ll text you my address.”
Detroit is playing Carolina tonight, and the outcome of their series will determine our opponent for the next round.
God, let it be Detroit. I want to face down those fuckers and win.
“I’ll try to get there,” I explain. “Depends on what the kid is up to.” I feel guilty that I’ve barely seen Toby these last few weeks. He’s already out of school for summer break, which leaves him and my father basically waiting around for the playoffs to finish.
“Hey—what if you brought Toby with you?” Newgate says. “There’ll be a lot of food, and also cookies. Jordyn would be pumped to see another kid in the house. Day camp hasn’t started yet, and Gavin tells me she’s already bored.”
“Okay, yeah. Maybe he’ll come with me,” I say, hedging because Toby isn’t always in the mood for new people. “I’ll ask his lordship if he’s free tonight.”
Newgate gives me a quick grin. “All right. Later.”
I get into my car and head home. “Hey Siri.”
“Yes, champion?”
I almost deserve that description this week. “Call Toby.”
