Chapter 9 #3
As Lucas and Carlson skated toward the bench, I jumped up and hopped over the board with Laine, adrenaline sparking through my veins. I was having another great night and fucking Ronan Vale was watching.
I skated toward the goal, tracking the puck as Richardson and Cook passed to each other at the other end of the rink. They were our second forwards, talented players, but not expected to score as much.
As the Shark center nabbed the puck, he hightailed it toward us.
“Be ready, boys.” Ace spread across the net. “This guy’s got a wicked backhand.”
“Yeah, I know.” I’d seen it already. With a glance at Laine, I pushed toward the Shark center.
He lobbed the puck in the air toward his winger.
Throwing myself between them, I smacked the puck down. “Let’s go!” Shuffling the puck between my blades, I raced across the ice.
A shadow came up on my left and pain sliced across my chin. “Fucking hell!” A body slammed me down onto my hands and knees. As I fought to get up, blood dripped onto the ice. No, I’m not hurt. I can’t be hurt.
The ref blew a whistle, and play stopped.
“Crosby, are you okay?” Laine bent over me, his gloved hand on my lower back. “Doesn’t look too bad, but you might need stitches.” He pulled me onto my skates.
Our trainer ran toward us with his bag.
“What happened?” I slipped my glove off and wiped my chin. Warm wetness coated my fingers, and I examined them. Blood, lots of it. “Fuck.”
“High stick. Goldman’s on his way to the sin bin. We’ll have a power play.” Laine gave me a lop-sided grin.
“Shit, not without me, you aren’t.” I glared at Rick Sanderson, our head trainer. “You’re not pulling me from the game for this. I can still play.”
“Oh, hold your horses, Crosby, and let’s get a look at this thing.” He wiped my chin and said, “Come on, let’s move you off the ice.”
As I skated toward the bench with him, the arena roared and cheered.
“It’s not bleeding that badly. Stitches can wait.” Fucking hell, I needed to stay in this game. I stepped through the gate and plopped onto the bench, my full fury pointed at Coach Dupont. “Coach, don’t let him pull me.”
With a smug grin, Coach said, “Let him assess you and we’ll see. They’ve got to clean the ice now, anyway.” He waved to a man in the tunnel. “Get him a new jersey.”
I looked down. How much had I bled? A few red splotches showed on my chest. Damn it. Not fucking now.
“Sit down.” Rick pushed on my shoulders. “Take off your helmet.”
I did as instructed. “How bad is it? Can you stop the bleeding and let me back out there?”
“Maybe.” He wiped my chin a few times with antiseptic wipes.
Stinging raced from my chin to spread down my neck, and I flinched. “Take it easy.”
With a chuckle, he said, “I can butterfly this and return you to the game, but you’ll need stitches during the intermission.”
“Fine, do it.” I held my chin higher. It would leave a nice scar, but it wasn’t in the middle of my face or on my nose, at least. I glanced at the Jumbotron, showing Rick hovering over me. What was Ronan thinking right now? Would he be worried?
Rick secured the bandages and said, “There, good to go.” He nodded at the coaching staff.
I wanted to play, but Coach would call a shift change. At least I’d play out the game.
We secured the win by two goals, and the locker room erupted in raucous celebration.
All we needed was one more win to close out this series and earn our week off.
I’d gotten my stitches during intermission.
I’d check my phone for messages when I got to the parking lot.
I didn’t need Lucas or Laine seeing what Ronan might have sent after my injury.
As I grabbed my duffel from the bench in front of my stall so I could head home, Coach Dupont strolled toward me.
“Crosby, you showed some real grit out there.” Coach slipped his hands into the pockets of his slacks.
“Thanks, Coach. I’d have liked some time in that power play, but I understand the shift change,” I said, swinging my duffel bag over my shoulder. I had to show Coach I was ready to be permanent.
“You have the attitude I like to see in my players.” He patted my arm. “Don’t worry, there will be more power plays.” Ticking his head at me, he said, “Now, go home and rest. And take care of that cut.”
“I will, Coach. Thanks.” I straightened my shoulders. Things were looking good for me.
After climbing into my car with my duffel safely tucked into the trunk, I fished my phone from the breast pocket of my blazer. Ronan had sent several text messages. I hoped he hadn’t worried too badly. I tapped them open.
Ronan
I know you won’t get this message until later, but I hope you’re okay.
Ronan
They’re still playing you? I guess it’s not that bad.
Ronan
Call me when you can.
I called his number and set the phone on speaker, watching a few of the other guys head to their expensive SUVs and sports cars. Someday, that Mercedes would be mine.
The phone rang once, and Ronan said, “Evan? How are you?”
My heart fluttered. “I’m great. It’s just a scratch.” I snickered. “Okay, more than a scratch. I got four stitches, but it’s not a big deal.” Hearing his concern did something to me. I’d love to see him right now, but I had an early flight.
“You were bleeding out on the ice.” He huffed. “I saw it. Blood everywhere.”
“Oh, come on, it was a few drops.” Now he was being dramatic. Dipping my head, my mouth tugged into a wide smile. “It’s on my chin and off to one side, so my face is still intact.”
“Thank God. I wouldn’t want you to mar that gorgeous face of yours.” His voice grew lower. “But it was kind of hot watching you tough it out. I didn’t know you were such a beast.”
“You haven’t seen me fight yet.” I snuck my teeth across my lower lip. Would our next meeting prove hotter than the last? I enjoyed hearing that my playing turned him on.
“I don’t think I could watch. When I saw the stick hit you and the blood…” He clicked his tongue. “Drew had to calm me down. I wanted to reach through the screen and choke that Sharks player to death.”
“You did?” Warmth spread through my body. Damn, he was smaller than me, but he had a tough side to him. At least he looked it with all the dark hair, eyeliner and tattoos. “Well, because of the penalty he got, Jarvis scored a goal. I’m happy with that.”
“So, you’re traveling to San Jose tomorrow?” he asked.
“Yes, we have to board the bus by eight,” I said, glancing at the clock on my dashboard.
I could have spoken with him all night, but I was exhausted and needed to rest. “I’ll, uh, call you from the hotel?
” I’d probably room with Laine again, so I’d need to find a spot to call him, or do it while Laine was out.
“Sure, do that. I’ll be here.” He chuckled. “Bean and I.”
“Sounds good. Talk to you soon.” I took a deep inhale. Hell, if I were planning on calling him from the road, this was getting serious. I’d figure things out later. First, I needed to navigate the playoffs.
“Yes, goodnight, Evan.”
“Goodnight, Ronan.” With a grin, I ended the call. I would sleep so well tonight if my chin didn’t ache too much.