Page 45 of Game Winner
The claustrophobic feeling disappears as the other players roll away. My stick is close by. Moving my arm the barest centimeter, I’m toppled by increasing pain. And terrified that something is really wrong because I can’t lift my arm any more than that or move it across my body.
This is bad. Cradling my arm, I try to get to my feet, fail, and fall on my ass.
Sage kneels beside me, concern lining his face. “Are you dizzy? Do you need me to get the doctor? Did you hit your head?”
“I’m… not dizzy. I may have hit my head on the boards. Can you help me up?”
Remy flies in, followed by Rhys. “What happened?”
“I can’t lift my arm. Hurts.” My heart’s racing, and my breaths are coming too fast. I’m gonna freak out, and I don’t want to do that in front of eighteen thousand people.
“We’ve got you. Come on.” Sage takes hold of my good arm and pulls me up with him so I can get my knees under me.
With Remy and Rhys helping steady me, I stand the rest of the way. But I still can’t control my breathing. The pain is too intense.
Sage’s grip on my arm tightens. He’s dealt with anxiety, and I’m sure he recognizes what’s happening with me. “We’ll get you to the bench. You just work on inhaling slow and steady. In and out.”
I can’t talk, only nod. The arena slowly fills with applause and low cheers of fans supporting me. Standing at the bench, my teammates bang their sticks. Surrounded by Remy, Sage, and Rhys, I work on breathing, grateful for their help as they get me across the ice.
The trainer and team doctor meet me at the bench. Sage and Remy both pat me on the back, and the Metros’ backup goalie opens the door in the bench for me so I don’t have to climb over the boards.
The doctor gestures toward the tunnel. “Let’s get you checked out.”
My eyes water with each torturous step, every movement shooting another agonizing throb as I walk ahead of him, sucking in short breaths and wincing with each one.
Fear spikes everything bigger and sharper. I don’t want to be injured, not again. All I can do is hope it’s not as bad as I fear.
The kitchen is overrun with Metros and Slash players, plus Bax. Several types of pizza cover the counter. A mellow playlist drifts beneath the conversations. This looks like a normal dinner gathering, except for the fact that it’s nearly midnight and everyone’s here to commiserate over my injury. The housemates and Bax hanging out here means a lot. But Rhys, Maxim, Jonas, and Quinn? I didn’t expect them at all. Not for me.
Sharing a chair, Rhys and Sage also share a slice, passing the large piece laden with pepperoni back and forth. On the wayhome from the arena, we talked about the injuries they had last year. Knowing they understand my frustration helps. Soren and Jonas have had season-ending injuries, so they also get it.
Gio settles into a chair across from me, next to Maxim and Jonas. “A broken collarbone is a common injury.”
“The doctor said it’s one of the most frequent fractures he sees in athletes.” My body feels like it was slammed by a truck, and I’m so angry I could cry. Or hit something. One-handed, as that will be my new normal for a while. I can’t believe I’m fucking injuredagain.
My arm is bound in a dark blue sling I already hate, and I’m counting the seconds until I can remove the ice pack from my shoulder. Twenty minutes on, to help ease pain and swelling. The swelling and bruising in the area was enough to make me dry heave when I first saw it.
Bax places a plate with two slices of pepperoni in front of me and ends the delivery with a kiss to my cheek. “Here you go. Best slices in the box.”
“Thanks.” I have to take the pain meds with food, and I’m grateful for pizza because I can eat it without needing help. Adjusting to using one hand for several weeks will be interesting. It’s already frustrating, and I only left the arena thirty minutes ago.
After refilling my glass of water and grabbing sodas for himself and Bax, Soren sits beside me. I had worried texts from them when I got to my locker and both men were here, waiting outside, when Sage pulled into the driveway. They helped me get inside and have been hovering in protector mode since we stepped through the door.
Soren rests his hand on my thigh. “How long until you can ditch the sling?”
“Two to six weeks, which is too big a window for me. He’ll narrow down the estimate at my next visit. I have to wear it allthe time, except when I’m showering. And no driving while I’m in a sling.” My car is sitting in the driveway, but I’ll be dependent on other people again, just like when I first arrived. Feeling helpless is the worst part of injuries. That and time off the ice.
Bax drops onto the open seat beside me with two slices of veggie lovers and one meat lovers. “What else did he say?”
“A lot of things. My head was kind of spinning in there.” I pick up the slice of pepperoni. “No lifting or overhead movement for six weeks. No running, no weights. No video games that use a two-handed controller.”
That means no Gargoyles Gateway for me, which is as disappointing as it is frustrating. It’s how Bax, Soren, and I connect when we can’t be together.
Maxim steals a pepper from Jonas’s slice, earning an elbow to his side. “They make one-handed controllers. I’ll ask the gamers on our team. Someone probably has one that you can borrow.”
“Thanks.”
Sliding his fingers to the back of my neck, Soren brings his lips to my ear. “If they don’t, I’m buying one. You’re not losing out on playing that with us.”
