Page 45 of Power Move
He rolls his eyes. “And they say I’m the dramatic one.”
Working together, we get the shirt over my arms and head.
Sitting on the bed, I manage the pants and socks alone. “I told him he shouldn’t have fought Chad.”
Maxim folds my discarded shirt. “We all wanted to fight Chad. He just beat us to it. Little guy’s fast. Snuck right out there. I was proud of him.”
“Chadhurthim.” I grip the blanket, picturing the fight all over again. “And I wasn’t there to stop it. Do you know how helpless I felt watching that? Knowing what Chad’s capable of?”
“Maybe as helpless as Sage and the rest of us felt watching Chad crack his stick over your back like a fucking coward, and seeing you drop like a stone.” His movements are stiff as he folds the rest of my things, then slams them on the dresser.
My shoulders sag. “I’m sorry, Maxie.”
He drags his long hair into a knot at the top of his head, then draws in a deep breath and closes his eyes, his hands pushing through the air like he’s visualizing forcing away his tension. When he opens them, he gives me a shaky smile and sits next to me. “First Jonas, now you. If Quinn gets so much as a hangnail in the next game, I’m out.”
Swinging my arm around his shoulders hurts, but I hug him to my side. When he relaxes against me, I breathe a sigh of relief. “Want to see if Jonas will overnight us some bubble wrap?”
Laughing, he taps his head to mine. “I would, just to see Quinnie’s face when I tell him it’s to keep him safe.”
“Sage is a good fighter. But that’s not his role. We need him on the ice.”
“Rhys, we both know that’s not how things work. Yeah, sometimes we can leave sending a message to one of our other teammates, but other times, you have to take care of shit yourself. We’ve all done it.”
“I know.” I lift my arm to my neck, but quickly drop it when a bullet of pain shoots through my shoulder. “But I just want to keep him safe.”
“Fighting or not, there’s no guarantee of that.”
“I know that too.”
He stands. “Was that the extent of it?”
“Not exactly.” My sneakers are at the side of the bed. I shove my feet into them, not bothering with the laces. I don’t want to risk straining my muscles any more than necessary. Maxim sighs, bends down, and ties them for me. Then he hauls me to my feet.
“Grab your phone and key. We need to move this to my room so I can get ready. We have to be downstairs soon.” He waits while I grab my stuff, then leads me next door.
His suitcase is twice the size of mine. As he does his morning routine in the bathroom, I sit on the bed, looking at the variety of tops and bottoms he brought for a nine-day trip. He has enough clothes for double that. Plus three spy novels, and a paperback romance that was sticking out of Remy’s bag at the start of our trip.
Maxim returns, rubbing in his face cream. “Time’s ticking away. Talk.”
I set the paperback down. “We also argued because Sage wants to play and I don’t think that’s a smart idea. He has a broken bone and could make things worse if he doesn’t let it heal.”
He pulls a T-shirt over his head. “That’s true for any of us who’ve played through injuries, but that hasn’t stopped a lot of us from trying. Including you.”
Knowing he’s right doesn’t make hearing it any easier. I pace his room as he switches pants and finds his sneakers. By the end of the playoffs last year, all of us were so banged up, I was surprised anyone could still walk.
Maxim pulls on a hoodie, then tucks his phone into the front pocket. “Hanson has a broken foot. Eddy needs shoulder surgery. Thornton has a sprained ankle. Think they should sit out games too?”
“That isn’t the same situation.”
He lays his hand on my shoulder. “Ask yourself why that is.”
Shoving my hands into my pants pockets, I rock back on my heels. “I know why. Sage isn’t them. He means more to me.”
“Did you tell him that?”
“Not in so many words.” I drag my hand through my hair. “I was in so much pain. And angry. And scared. Scared of what might have happened to him.”
“I can understand that.”
