Chapter 17
KNOX
The team enters the Chicago Revenants arena and I take a moment to absorb all the sensations coming at me.
For the last few years I’ve taken this life for granted.
The stiffness in my shoulder reminded me when I woke up this morning that there’s a clock ticking down to the end of my career, only I don’t know how much time is left on it.
That makes me savor every last moment I get.
I love everything about being in a hockey arena.
I let all my senses take in the things I’ve forgotten to appreciate, like the bite of the cold as it brushes across my cheeks, the smell of the ice mixed with rubber and metal, and the sound of a crowd as the stands fill with fans.
I know I’ll miss all of these things once my career comes to an end.
These are the moments I want to hold on to when I walk off the ice for the final time. That day will hopefully not be today, but if it is, I’ll leave knowing I made the most of this rare career I’ve been blessed with.
The blades of my skates cut through the smooth surface of the ice when I join my team on the ice to start warming up.
I crouch down on the ice next to West, Ash, and Jude doing the frog stretch to open up our hips.
When I look back at our bench I see Sloane recording us for social media.
West, being the perpetual flirt he is, blows a kiss to her.
“Stop flirting with my woman,” I growl at him.
Instead of intimidating him, he bursts out laughing.
“I used to flirt with your ex right in front of you all the time and you didn’t care,” he says, still laughing.
“Sloane is different,” I grumble.
I didn’t intend to say that, but once the words are out, I realize that somewhere in the last week or two my feelings changed. I still have a need to dominate her, maybe more so now than before. Now that my feelings are involved, I’m even more desperate to keep her.
Jude slaps his hand against the ice to get my attention. “Put it away for now. If you’re distracted you’re going to end up making mistakes. You could get hurt.”
He’s right of course. I force my eyes away from Sloane, and focus on getting ready for the game.
From the moment the puck is dropped on the ice, we have to battle to stay in the game.
Chicago is a strong team with a good mix of veteran players and guys who’ve only been in the game for a couple of years.
My heart is pounding hard as adrenaline floods my veins.
The pain in my shoulder fades away, and I tap my stick on the ice waiting for the ref to blow his whistle.
I win the first face-off and shoot the puck out to Dante.
I’ll give it to the kid, he’s fast. He races down the ice, keeping control over the puck. He attempts to pass the puck over to Asher, but it’s intercepted by their right winger. Their team name, Revenants, is fitting considering he came out of nowhere like a ghost.
Asher rushes forward, and they battle against the boards. He regains the puck, and shoots it out to Weston. He gets into position, and shoots for the goal. The Revenant’s goalie manages to stop the puck with his knee.
The game continues without either of us scoring a goal until the third period. I manage to draw first blood in the game, but they follow up with a goal of their own.
My energy is depleted when regulation time ends with us still tied. My shoulder is screaming, and I’m struggling to keep a grip on my stick.
“You’re done,” Coach says.
I nod. As much as I want to rail against my limitations, I can’t ignore the fact that I wouldn’t be a help to my team since my hand is going numb.
“Asher, Dante, and Jude hit the ice,” he instructs.
The five minute, sudden death, overtime period is even faster paced than the previous three periods. Dante loses the face-off, but Jude intercepts the puck, and flies down the ice. Their defender checks him hard against the glass, but he manages to wing the puck out to Asher first.
Asher moves faster than I’ve ever seen him go on the ice, and before the goalie can get a read on where his shot is going to go, he manages to send the puck into the top left corner of the net. The light flashes, and Ash raises his arms and stick in the air.
Jude gives him a tight smile, peak celebration for him. The rest of the guys jump up cheering in the box. Now that I’ve sat for a few minutes, the pain in my shoulder is increasing. Every breath I take sends stabbing pain through my joint.
Dr. Frost notices me holding my breath. “Let’s get you into the training room.”
I start to gather my things, but West stops me. “Just go with the doc. I’ll grab your stuff.”
I sit on the exam table while Delaney gets ice packs ready to wrap around my shoulder.
Every breath sends stabbing pain through the middle of the back of my shoulder.
I wrap my arm around my middle and try to move as little as possible.
It’s not perfect, but I can grit my teeth through the pain this way.
The doc walks in and sees me bracing myself to deal with the pain and frowns. I know what he’s going to say before he opens his mouth.
“I just need to ice it,” I tell him preemptively.
He starts shaking his head before I’m even finished speaking. “Not this time, Knox.”
“I didn’t get hit. It’s just overuse. It will be fine,” I push.
“Painkillers, ice, and rest aren’t enough anymore and you know it.” He gives me a serious look, like he can bore directly into my brain and shove that realization inside. Joke’s on him because I am already aware that my shoulder is fucked.
I sigh, and run my free hand through my sweaty hair. “I know I’m going to need surgery, Doc. I just want to finish the season.”
“I know you do. I’m trying to make that happen, but your body isn’t cooperating. You need an MRI before I’m willing to sign off on you playing in the next game,” he says.
I know there’s no way around it. He might have been giving me the painkillers I’ve been using to cope, but he’s not a bad doctor. He has no idea that I’ve been using more than what he’s given me either, so he can hardly be blamed for my choices.
Right now I’m getting desperate for something to dull the sharp pain that stabs through my shoulder in a steady rhythm. It’s all that I can focus on to the point that I am babbling without thinking.
I reach out with my good hand and grab Delaney’s arm. “I need you to go get Sloane.”
Her eyes narrow, and if I had the ability to focus on anything beyond the pain I’d probably be worried that she seems to have figured out that something is going on between Sloane and I.
“Please, I need her to manage the message of why I’m at the hospital,” I justify.
She purses her lips before rolling her eyes. “That actually sounds like a real reason. Fine, I’ll go grab her.”
A few minutes later, Sloane runs through the door. I can see the worry in her stormy gaze. She stops short of coming next to me when she sees Doc hanging out in the corner of the therapy room.
While staring down at his phone he says, “Our ride is here.”
Then he looks up at me and realizes I’m still in my uniform. “We can’t take you to the hospital like this. As it is, we’re unlikely to make it through this without someone recognizing you, but our chances are zero if you go in like that. I’ll go grab one of the guys to help you change.”
I give Sloane a look begging her to help me before he comes back.
She’s the only one I can stand to touch me right now, because I know she’ll be gentle.
She understands me without me having to say a word.
First she unlaces my skates and takes them off.
I suck in a breath and brace myself when she helps me work my jersey off over my pads, then over my head.
Next she unstraps my pads and pulls them over my head.
It’s easier to take off the rest of my gear than it is to get into my regular clothes.
That’s probably because I refuse to go without taking a quick shower.
I can barely stand to breathe my own funk right now, the last thing I want is to be trapped inside a metal tube with it.
Not to mention I don’t want to assault everyone who will have to be near me with my stench.
West comes in just as I’m stepping out of the shower. He raises his hands up. “I’m going to watch the door so no one comes in and sees Sloane helping you get dressed. If anyone asks, you managed it alone. In no way do you make it sound like I helped you dry off your balls.”
Thankfully, along with the suit I wore for game day, I shoved some casual clothes in my bag. Sloane helps me put on my shirt without jarring my shoulder. I try to put on my pants one-handed, but the twisting and bending I need to do sends waves of pain radiating out of my shoulder.
She puts her hand against the center of my chest, over my heart. “Let me help you, please. I hate seeing you in pain.”
Breathing hard, I nod. I’m starting to fear the doctor is right about my shoulder being past ice and rest.
She helps me finish dressing just as West pokes his head back in the room. “Doc is on his way in. Do you want me to go with you to the hospital?”
“I’m going to have a hard enough time getting in and out unnoticed. If you come we’re definitely going to stand out,” I tell him.
He shrugs. “I’ve got casual clothes and a hat too,” he says, nodding at the baseball hat I put on my head.
Sloane laughs quietly. West gives her a puzzled look, and she laughs harder.
“What?” he finally asks.
Her gray eyes open wide. “You really don’t see it? You’re both the size of mountains. Even if, God willing, you both make it into the hospital without someone recognizing you, you’re still going to draw attention.”
He knows she’s right. I can see it on his face. His goofball facade is replaced by the more serious demeanor I’m used to when we’re alone. “Take care of him,” he says to Sloane, voice low and pleading.
“I promise.” She reaches out and squeezes his arm.
Somehow we’re able to sneak out of the arena without the press catching us. The driver the doctor arranged brings us around to a more private entrance to the hospital. Once inside a nurse waits with a wheelchair.
“Fuck no,” I growl.
Dr. Frost rubs the center of his forehead. “Can you be less of a pain in the ass for long enough for them to get the images I need? You know it’s policy to use a wheelchair. You’re in pain and you just played three periods of hockey. Just sit in the damn chair.”
I stop arguing with him and sit in the chair.
The man generally has the patience of a saint, so for him to snap at me like that is a sign that I’ve probably pushed him too far.
I’ve been worried about my career, but he’s the one going to face the backlash if he has to determine I’m unable to play.
Sometimes I forget it isn’t just my fate on the line.
“Can she stay with me?” I ask the nurse. I hold out my hand for Sloane, and she takes it without hesitation.
“There’s a waiting room near imaging. She won’t be able to go in with you,” the nurse replies.
“I’ll be right out there waiting for you,” Sloane promises.
No matter what Dr. Frost sees in these images, with her here, I think I’ll be able to survive the fallout.