Page 73 of Married As Puck
The room goes quiet. My pulse thunders in my ears.
Keith finally speaks. His voice is low, controlled. “Cam… maybe you should listen to him.”
I turn to glare at him. “You think I’m just gonna let Jack take this from me?”
Keith stiffens. “So you do think it was Jack.”
I don’t answer. I don’t have proof. All I’ve got is the memory of his smirk as I hit the boards.
The doctor sighs, setting the chart down. “Look. I’ll clear you once you’ve had proper rest, tests, and observation. But if you step onto that rink against medical advice… don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
He leaves the room, door clicking shut behind him. The silence stretches uncomfortably but I’m unwilling to break it.
Keith leans forward, elbows on his knees. “Cam. You can’t keep doing this. He’s in your head, and now he’s under your skin. Don’t let him finish the job.”
I press my palms into my eyes, head throbbing. “If I don’t play, we lose. And if we lose… he wins.”
Keith doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t have to. The weight of it all presses down until I can barely breathe.
Keith finally leaves after making me promise I won’t be reckless, and the room falls into a thick, sterile silence. The only sound is the faint hum of the machines and the occasional beep from somewhere down the hall.
I stare at the ceiling, my head still throbbing, and the doctor’s words replay in my skull like a damn chant I can’t mute.
One more bad hit and you’ll never play again.
I swallow hard. Hockey’s not just something I do. It’s who I am. It’s the one thing that’s always made sense, even when everything else in my life was chaos. The ice has always been my escape, my battlefield, my home. And now? Now it feels like the ground’s been ripped out from under me.
I clench my fists against the sheets, the rage crawling under my skin hot and sharp. Jack. I don’t need proof to know he’s behind this. That smug look on his face yesterday, the way he said might be your last match… it wasn’t just taunting. It was a warning. A goddamn promise.
The worst part? I can’t prove a thing. He gets to keep skating, keep smirking, keep pushing me closer to the edge while I sit here in a hospital bed like some broken rookie.
I exhale slowly, trying to push the storm inside me back down, but it’s useless. My thoughts spiral—what if this really is theend? What if the thing that defines me is ripped away before I’ve even had the chance to prove I can be more than my past?
And then, like she always does, Brie slips into my head. Her laugh, her stubbornness, the way she looks at me like I’m not just a bruised-up hockey player trying to outskate his demons. The thought of her seeing me like this—weak, stuck, vulnerable—makes something inside me twist.
I drag a hand over my face. “Fuck,” I whisper to the empty room.
I’m in big trouble. Trouble with Jack. Trouble with the game. Trouble with my own damn heart.
The door creaks open, and for a split second I think it’s another nurse coming to poke at me, but then I see Brie. And I’m surprised.
Her hair’s a little messy, and her eyes, God, her eyes lock on me like I’m the only thing that matters in this whole sterile, whitewashed building.
“Cam,” she breathes out, her voice tight with worry as she hurries to my side.
I push myself up straighter on the bed, ignoring the way my head spins. “Hey. You didn’t have to come—”
“Don’t start,” she cuts me off, her hand brushing over mine before she realizes what she’s doing. She pulls it back quickly, but not before I catch the tremor in her fingers. “The moment Collins texted me, I got in my car. You think I’d just sit around while you’re here?”
Something about the way she says it cracks me open a little. I look at her, really look at her, and I don’t see pity. I see… fear. For me. And damn if that doesn’t make it harder to breathe.
“It’s not that bad,” I mutter, trying to keep my voice steady. “Doctor says I can leave if everything checks out.”
She narrows her eyes like she can see right through the lie I’m trying to sell both of us. “Not that bad? Cameron, you have a concussion. Do you even realize what could’ve happened?”
I shrug, even though the movement makes my head ache. “Comes with the game.”
Her jaw tightens. “No, it doesn’t. Don’t you dare normalize this. You could’ve…” Her voice falters, and she looks away, blinking fast.
