Page 41 of Power Move
He mocked my height, but it works in my favor. He can’t land a punch. I duck, weaving out of his way, and slam my fist into his back. If I could reach my stick, I’d slam him with that too, give him a taste of what he did to my boyfriend.
My chin strap comes loose. He pushes at my helmet. I throw another punch while rucking up his jersey, trapping his right arm. My hand smashes onto his helmet. Pain explodes, radiating from my knuckles into my arm, but the adrenaline and my anger keep me going. Another punch, then another. I keep my head clear of his fists, but he gets in shots on my back and shoulder.
I get his jersey up higher, then yank hard and take him to the ice. As soon as we’re down, the ref and linesmen swarm in, pulling us apart.
“You’re done for the night.” The ref guides me to the bench. All of my teammates knock their sticks against the boards in support.
“Worth it,” I mutter, but no one can hear me under the thunderous roar from the crowd.
My hand throbs too much, like my heartbeat is right there, sending out waves of pain. Sweat stings my eyes. I storm past the bench and into the corridor.
Before I can head to the dressing room, Dr. Chaudry, one of the team’s doctors, points me to the medical staff’s office. “I want to take a look at your hand.”
He gestures for me to sit on the exam table, then gently examines my hand. Even the smallest of touches hurts.
My index finger and several knuckles are red, swollen, and painful. Deep purple bruising spreads from my finger, expanding across the back of my hand.
Sweat pours off me, my heart races, my breaths puff out with too much force. I want my gear off. I’m unsteady, and afraid I might pass out. “Hurts to move it.”
“Don’t attempt to bend anything. I think you’ve fractured your finger. We’ll take x-rays to confirm.” He helps me remove my helmet. “Did he get in any hits to your head?”
“No. Just my back and shoulder. But I’m fine. Where’s Rhys?”
“Concussion protocol.” His words are clipped. “Let’s get you sorted.”
Since I’m useless one-handed, he helps me out of my jersey and elbow and shoulder pads. Sweat soaks the thin, long-sleeved tee I wear under my gear and I’m both too hot and too cold.
We do the x-rays. Waiting for the results, holding an ice pack on my hand, I watch the game on the screen mounted to the wall. The penalties scroll across the bottom. Five for fighting for Chad and me. Game misconducts. And the commentators speculate the league will look at Chad’s hit on Rhys and it may result in a suspension. Good.
My attention pulls to the doorway every time someone walks by or voices raise from the corridor. I tense up, worrying about Rhys, and about what will happen if my finger is broken or sprained.
The game ends. We hang onto the win. But all I care about is Rhys.
Dr. Chaudry returns to the room. “You’ve fractured the intermediate phalange of your index finger.” He shows me the x-ray images.
My stomach drops at the dark line across the middle section of my finger.
Injured. In a game that doesn’t even matter because we’ve already made the playoffs. That makes this doubly worse.
“You have a stable fracture. We’ll splint it.” He strides to one of the cabinets and removes a metal splint with a blue foam cushion. “This will keep your finger straight and protected while it heals. The pain and swelling can last for weeks, but should steadily improve. I want you to ice your finger tonight and all day tomorrow, ten minutes on, followed by twenty minutes off. Take an anti-inflammatory as needed.”
I wince as he slides the splint into place. “How soon can I play?”
He finishes applying tape around it. “Fractures can take between four and six weeks to heal.”
“Doc, that doesn’t answer my question. How many weeks till I’m back on the ice?”
“You want this to heal properly, and not risk further damage.”
My chest feels tight. I groan and drop my head into my good hand. “We’re so close to the playoffs. I just need to make it through those and then I can have the whole offseason to heal properly.”
His lips flatten into a line like he’s used to battling stubborn athletes. “It’s obviously up to your coach, but some patients I’ve treated for the same type of fracture have resumed playing once they’re able to grip their hockey stick.”
“Okay. I’m sure I can do that. It’s only one broken finger.”
“Remember, every pass you make or receive sends vibrations up the stick and straight into your hand. Even if they let you play before the injury heals, it might be too uncomfortable and severely affect your play.”
“Nothing will be as uncomfortable as not playing.” Setting the ice back in place hurts so much, I suck in a breath. Trying to turn my wince into a smile doesn’t work, from the unimpressed brow raise he gives me. “Can I go?”
