Page 41 of The Head Game

“Thanks, man. Me too.” Fowler patted his arm. “There’s some good news though. Apparently, Nico came to in the hallway as they were wheeling him out. He was conscious and stable when he left the arena at least and we’ve had no updates to indicate he’s taken a turn for the worse since.”

August sighed, relieved. “That is good news.”

“Yeah, it’s definitely an encouraging sign.” But Fowler didn’t look terribly reassured.

August wasn’t either. “When do you guys fly out?”

“Not until the morning. In a bit I’ll head to the hospital with Kate Foster, our VP of Communications. We’ll stay there overnight or until there’s some word on his condition, then probably join the team and fly out tomorrow morning as planned. It’ll depend on Nico’s condition but that’s the plan for now.”

“Good. I’m glad someone will be there for him.”

“Yeah.” Fowler dragged a hand through his wet hair. “Kate notified his family. Just—just to be on the safe side. They’re in Europe so it’ll take them a while to get over here and …”

“Well, good. I’m uh, glad he won’t be alone in a strange city.” August shook his head. “Look, I don’t want to keep you but I have a quick question, if you don’t mind.”

“Sure.”

“Did you get a good view of that hit in the first period? DoPS has nothing on film but I can’t stop wondering if we missed something. Could Arents have been concussed during it?”

Dustin’s brow furrowed. “I didn’t see it well but I thought he hit his shoulder, not his head. We all agreed it was a clean hit, even Nico.”

“That’s what I thought at the time too and clearly the spotters didn’t catch anything either but now I’m wondering …”

“Yeah.” Fowler laughed hoarsely. “Second guessing yourself is easy to do. This is going to sound weird but I think maybe something has been going on with Nico for a while though. I told the paramedics he’s been dealing with these headaches lately and …”

August flinched. He’d noticed Nico seemed off earlier but he’d never suspected it was anything serious.

A tall blonde woman approached, stopping a few arm lengths away. Fowler glanced over and held up a finger indicating he’d be a moment. She nodded, her expression as grim and concerned as Fowler’s.

“That’s Kate. I should wrap this up unless you need something else, Manning.”

“No. No. You should go. But, uh, well, if you think it’s appropriate at some point, tell Arents I hope he’s okay. He’s mouthy on the ice but …” August flailed for how to finish that thought.

But Fowler nodded. “Yeah, you never want to see any guy injured like that.”

“Exactly.”

August mumbled an uncomfortable goodbye, and in a daze, walked toward the parking ramp.

He felt … awkward.

Like he had a big flashing neon sign over his head giving away the secret of what he and Nico had done.

August had never snuck around with a guy or gotten involved with someone from work before.

Not that he and Nico were involved. They’d had sex. Once. And August didn’t even like him.

But he was genuinely worried for him and, well, how could he not be?

Fowler was right. No one liked to see guys get injured.

A player might feel relief if a crucial opponent was out with an injury and it gave them a better shot at a Cup win.

Hockey was violent. Injuries were common. But they were a consequence. Not the goal.

No guys were out there injuring other players deliberately just for the sake of hurting people.

The worst guys in the league weren’t like that.

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