Chapter 4 #2
"Med room, last I saw. Trainer wanted to do a full concussion protocol." Hayes paused. "You good, Cap?"
"Fine."
I finished undressing on autopilot. I showered in record time and dressed in my suit without registering any of it. The locker room had mostly cleared out by the time I grabbed my bag and headed down the corridor toward the medical facilities.
The door to the training room was half-open. I knocked once and pushed through.
Theo sat on the examination table in his base layer compression shirt and hockey pants, holding an ice pack to his ribs. The Storm’s head trainer—a woman named Vicki who had seen everything in her twenty years with the organization—was making notes on a tablet.
"Captain." Vicki glanced up. "He's clear. No concussion, just some deep bone bruising in the ribs. I am holding him out of practice tomorrow as a precaution. He'll hurt like hell, but nothing serious."
"Appreciate it."
Vicki gave me a look that suggested she knew exactly why I was here, but she left without comment. The door clicked shut behind her.
Silence flooded the room.
Theo looked at me with those bright eyes that saw too much. His expression was wary.
"You didn't have to do that."
"Do what?" My voice came out too sharp.
"Fight Morrison. Drop the gloves. Risk a suspension." Theo shifted the ice pack, wincing slightly. "I am not made of glass, Moretti. I can take a hit."
"He was targeting you."
"He was targeting you." Theo set the ice pack down carefully. "I saw him line you up. I saw what was coming. So I... intervened."
The shaking in my hands got worse. I shoved them in my pockets before Theo could see.
"You threw yourself in front of a two-twenty enforcer." I heard my voice rising but couldn't stop it. "Do you have any idea how badly that could have gone? If he had caught you in the head instead of the chest, you would be in the hospital right now. What the hell were you thinking?"
"I was thinking you are the captain and the best player on this team and we need you." Theo slid off the table, moving stiffly. "And that Morrison has been headhunting all game, and if he had taken you out, we would have lost."
"So you decided to play hero."
"I decided to do my job." Theo stepped closer. "You protect the team. I protect you. That is how it works, right?"
No. That's not how it works. That is not—
My chest felt like it was splitting open. The careful walls I'd built, the distance I'd kept—all of it crumbled under the weight of Theo standing there, bruised and defiant and so goddamn brave it made my throat close up.
"Don't do it again." The words came out strangled.
"Can't promise that."
"Callahan—"
"You would do the same for any of us." Theo’s voice softened. "You did do the same. I saw you drop the gloves. I saw you lose it when Morrison hit me."
Stop. Stop seeing. Stop noticing.
"I would have done that for any rookie on this team."
"Yeah?" Theo tilted his head. Something in his expression sharpened. "Is that why your hands are shaking?"
My breath stopped.
I looked down. My hands were out of my pockets, hanging at my sides. They were trembling. Visibly trembling. I couldn't remember the last time my body had betrayed me like this.
Theo took another step forward. Close enough to touch. Close enough that I could feel the heat radiating off him.
"It is okay to care about people," Theo said quietly. "It doesn't make you weak."
"I don't—" My voice cracked. "This isn't—"
"I know you are scared." Theo’s hand lifted, hovering in the space between us. Not touching, but the intention was clear. "I know what you're risking. But pretending you don't feel anything? That isn't sustainable, Luca. Eventually something is going to break."
It already has.
The realization hit me like a bucket of cold water. Whatever control I thought I had, whatever distance I had tried to maintain—it was gone. It had been gone since the moment I saw Theo crumpled on the ice and my entire world had narrowed to a single screaming imperative. Protect him.
Not the team. Not the rookie. Him.
My hands were still shaking. I stared at them, at the evidence of my loss of control, and felt something shift in my chest.
"You should go home," I said, my voice barely audible. "Get some rest."
Theo’s hand dropped. His expression flickered with disappointment, but he nodded. "Yeah. Okay."
He moved past me toward the door. Every instinct I possessed screamed at me to reach out, to say something, to—
"Callahan."
Theo stopped. He turned.
I swallowed hard. "Good hit. You... you did good tonight."
The smile that broke across Theo’s face was sunlight after a storm. "Thanks, Cap."
Then he was gone.
I stood alone in the medical room with my hands shaking and my carefully constructed world in ruins around me.
I pulled out my phone. I stared at the screen for a long moment. Then I opened a new message to Theo and typed before I could stop myself.
Luca: You okay? Real answer, not the tough guy version.
I hit send before I could delete it.
I stood there waiting for the reply like an idiot, heart hammering in my chest.
The response came sixty seconds later.
Theo: Bruised ribs, bruised ego. Nothing ice and ibuprofen won't fix. You okay?
I stared at the question, at the concern implicit in those two words.