Chapter Twenty-Five Back
“Call me ‘gramps’ one more time. I dare you.”
Bryce slaps his stick against mine. “Payback, pretty boy. All those years of calling me Furball.”
“That had nothing to do with how you move on the ice, idiot. It was about how much you shed. We’re the only locker room that has a mandatory lint brush in every locker.
” Bryce tries to whip around me, and I pivot.
My knee is taped to high heaven, but I’m on it without crutches, and I intend to stay that way—unless Bryce sweeps my legs.
“You break me, you buy me. My contract is expensive.”
“I know. I heard your agent is actually paying attention again.”
I shrug, wishing I wasn’t sweating so much.
I’m not used to all the gear, all the activity.
I feel like I’m out of shape, despite increasingly vigorous workouts with Kevin and a whole new kind of exercise with Ingrid.
“That’s swell of him, isn’t it? Leave me alone for two solid months, then see a fifteen-second clip of me making a figure eight at open skate day with the little kiddies in town, and I’m his golden boy again.
There’s a clause in our agreement about career-altering injuries freeing me from contractual obligations.
Think I’m about to take him up on that.”
Bryce whisks a puck away from me. He’s been getting sharper while I’ve been sidelined. He takes up a third of my reels, and he’s got his own cheering squad now, Bryce’s Beauties, which are having a spirited rivalry with Frobisher’s Frosties.
“You’re everyone’s golden boy. Sold out games for the rest of the season. People hoping to be on your vids. People hoping you come back and play, even for one game. Fia did a whole photo layout for the Pine Ridge Gazette about Team Paws.”
He’s trying to distract me. It works. Most of the seniors have found their four-legged friends.
Dr. Peterson, Jen Chambers, and Libby Angelakis have worked out a schedule to make house calls once a month to check the pets and save the seniors from needing rides.
The second-graders are the most conscientious cat toy makers in the business.
The high schoolers love helping. They get to play with animals, get their community service hours in, and the old people tip with candy bars and dollar bills in pretty thank-you cards.
Bryce is gone with the puck. He outshines. He outshoots.
And all I do is smile and chase after him. “Fia gonna be here tonight?”
“If she can stop throwing up long enough to—”
Bryce pauses and meets my eye.
I smile slowly. “Hmm? Throwing up?”
“Shh. Only two months. She wants to wait to tell people.”
“Bryce! Papa Bryce! Oh my God!” I forget that I have to move carefully and half-tackle my teammate.
“Shhhh! Secret.”
“Okay, okay. Secret.” I embrace him again, squeezing his huge shoulders while he blushes and laughs. You and Jorge gotta make it to the All-Star game. There’s a nice little bonus you can put into the baby fund,” I whisper.
“I’d like that. You haven’t had your sorry ass—”
“Excuse me, that’s ‘sorry knee,’” I correct, amazed that I can joke about it now, when it used to seem so...final.
“You haven’t been on the ice in two months, still haven’t officially been back for a game, and you’re still the favorite to go.”
“According to who?”
“The bookie at Jax Alley.”
“Don’t listen to that guy. What does he know?”
“I think he said his great uncle was a warlock or something. Or was it a locksmith? Anyway, he flunked out of MIT. He understands statistics.”
Two months ago, I had a ‘career-ending’ injury.
No, to me it was a life-ending injury.
Because I was just an All-Star, just a hockey player, but today, I’m...
“You okay?”
I skate back, nodding at Bryce. Coach needs us to focus and actually run plays.
I’m not running anything yet, just practicing being on the ice, hopefully preparing to play in a week or two.
So, I let my mind wander.
I’m not just a hockey player.
I’m Ingrid’s lover. Her future husband.
I’m Chip and Daisy’s dad, the one who comforts them the best during storms.
I’m Bryce and Kevin’s friend, and Ian and Farrah’s “nephew.”
That’s right, this little debacle pushed me closer to the Orcs that I’ve always stayed away from because I was “too different.” I wasn’t. I just didn’t realize I was waiting to learn how to value the same things, like a family and a mate.
The best picture book reader, according to Miss Bainbridge’s second-grade class.
The guy who Lester and Steve call to tell cute dog stories.
I’m a whole person again, after years of making sure I was just a shell. The outside of something is so much easier to keep “perfect” than dealing with the messy layers underneath...
“King! Do you think this play is funny?” Coach Torrey is glaring at me.
“No, sir.”
“You’re grinning like a lunatic.”
“I’m just so glad to be back, Coach.”
“That’s good, because you skate in with us tonight and every home game from now on. After the holiday break, you’re back to road games if your leg can take it.”
I just nod. Haven’t had a real game yet, not with people who’ll be actively trying to exploit my weakness.
Coach keeps talking, and I glaze over.
And I’m going to be Kevin’s daughter’s godfather.
And maybe, Bryce and Fia will let me be an honorary uncle...
“Love you. I’ll be out pretty quick after. You don’t have to wait around.” I kiss Ingrid as she takes her seat behind the benches.
“I’ll wait. Marina said she was craving ribs and hot fudge, so I said we might meet them at the River House after the game. If you’re not too beat.”
“I’m not on the ice today, just suiting up to look pretty,” I tease.
“Smile! Pine Ridge royalty, the King and his queen.” Fia Frobisher is suddenly next to us, her fancy black camera snapping away.
“Thanks, Fia. And thank you for doing the spread about the seniors and Team Paws.”
“Hey, that one got picked up by a bunch of papers across the state, even in Pennsylvania, too. Grace mentioned that a lot of bags of kibble and cat food have been sent to them since then. They might have enough to give to some other shelters.”
Ingrid beams and bounces on her toes. She’s so adorable when she’s happy. “Baby, that’s amazing! Thank you so much, Fia!”
I want to keep that giddiness on her face forever. “Yeah, thank you, Fia. You know who else could use some good press? The Pine Ridge High football team.”
Fia winces. “They haven’t been having the best season.”
“No, but they have the best hearts. Every single one of them signed up to help at Hilltop Home. Could you and Jasper Wainwright do some kind of a collab? I don’t know, something like... ‘Champions of the Heart’?”
“Catchy. Very ‘feel good.’ I’ll see what I can do.”
Fia goes off to snuggle with Bryce, and I kiss Ingrid one more time before I have to put my helmet on. “Love you, see you later.”
“Love you. You warm that bench, King. Crush it!” She winks and pumps her fist in the air.
“That’s my girlfriend,” I say to no one in particular. “My fiancé. She loves me even when I just sit still.”
“Am I still allowed to do the videos, Coach?” I ask when I and a handful of second-stringers sit back down.
The coach hums for a second. He has to watch the ice, of course, but he takes a second to give me a look.
“You’re not officially on the roster for tonight, so I think you can, even though you skated out.
You got a thunderous cheer. I mean, literally, thunderous.
I thought we were having an earthquake.”
“Glad it wasn’t that. Bryce and Jorge are killing it tonight.”
“They’re a sweet pair, all right. I never thought I’d see a better match than you and Bryce, but Frobisher really steps up with Jorge. Guards him like a mother grizzly with a favorite cub.”
I chuckle. “You sure he’s not part grizzly with that fur?”
We’re laughing when it happens.
I hear the noise first, because I have the senses for it.
It’s the thud of bodies hitting each other, but not the standard hockey scuffle. This sounds like a car hitting a body, a whump-thump, crash.
High impact. High speed.
Two players from the Phantoms were making for Jorge, sure that one would get him if the other didn’t.
They didn’t count on Bryce, the biggest defender in the league, the best bodyguard—the real reason I barely got a bruise during a game, and it took tripping over some dumb flowers to bring me down.
Bryce stops them both, pushing Jorge ahead and taking a double impact, chest and back.
And Bryce is down.
On the ice. Not moving, like I was months ago.
“Oh, my God,” I whisper.
“Medic!” One ref shouts, skating over. Coach is gone. The ice is clearing.
I cast a desperate look back over my shoulder and see Ingrid’s white face, her mouth hidden behind her hands. I can read the horror on her face, but it’s nothing compared to the way Fia looks as she stands at the side of the rink.
Her camera dangles around her neck, one hand on her heart. One clutched protectively over her stomach.
Everything in me moves on instinct, the running, the jumping the divider, the skating out.
I push off at high speeds and fall to my knees as I get close to the ring of people now surrounding an unmoving Bryce, so smooth that you’d never know I was injured, only a warning throb in my leg letting me know this maneuver is unwise.
I’ve done this move a hundred times after a winning goal. My hands are usually up in triumph. Now they’re outstretched, pushing refs aside so I can take a spot at Bryce’s side.
“Let’s get his helmet off.” One of the medics is undoing the chinstrap, but I just break it in half and pull—gently, scooting up to cradle Bryce’s head on my knees. “He has to be okay.”
“He’s going to be okay,” Coach says, but he’s pale, too. Bryce doesn’t go down.
Bryce was distracted.
Because Bryce knew his wife was here. And his baby.
“He has to be okay,” I repeat, looking desperately between the medics for some sort of reaction. “He’s got a wife. He’s... He’s going to be a dad.”
“He didn’t hit his head, I think— clear, everyone hands off!” One medic is suddenly pulling out a small red bag, and the other hoists Bryce’s shirt up. There’s a singe of burning fur, and Bryce roars.
In the stands, Fia lets out an answering scream, and I look over. Ingrid’s there. Arms around her.
“Double impact to the chest and back—Commotio Cordis, V-Fib. We’re gonna need an ambulance.”
“I’m okay. I’m okay.” Bryce’s groggy voice is the best sound ever. I gasp and wipe my eyes, and plant a kiss right on his forehead. “Hey. Pretty boy,” he smiles and slurs.
“Don’t you ever fucking scare me like that again, Furball,” I whisper.
“This player wasn’t wearing his chest padding. That’s a violation. There could be a fine—”
I snarl at the lecturing ref, and he coughs.
“But I think he’s learned his lesson.”
“He’s going to be okay, right?” I ask the medics.
“Thanks to this little portable heart starter, yeah. Commotio Cordis is rare and can point to some other issues, like heart valve issues or arrhythmia. It could also just be the fact that he got double-teamed while failing to wear his protective padding.”
“I’ll never let him go out without it again, I promise,” I make a vow, crossing my heart.
Coach looks at me. “Guess that means you have to stay on whatever team Bryce is on for the rest of his career, huh?”
I shrug and smile. “Sounds good.”
“Why am I lying down?” Bryce demands, voice slightly stronger.
“Because you almost died, idiot. You forgot your chest protector.”
“I did. Oh. Oh... Got something from Fia in my bag. Must’ve... forgot my chest protector.”
I roll my eyes. “I just said that.”
“Does Pine Ridge forfeit?” One of the refs asks.
“No, we’ll still play. Just let me get my player taken care of and we’ll sub in someone.” Coach rises as they load Bryce onto a stretcher. “Who do you think would be good to protect Villareal? He’s our second-best scorer, our best tonight, without you, and the Phantoms are playing hardball.”
I grin, a grin that Bryce and I have shared so many times.
The hungry monsters on the hunt. “I think I should take his place.”
Coach looks at me, a protest on his lips. “I...”
I talk under him, not over him. Coach Torrey never responds to yelling, so I make my voice lower and grittier, more feral. “I think I should take his place. No one touches Jorge. Or anyone on this team. Not tonight. Not again.”
Coach coughs. “You might be risking your knee, son. Light duty. A few minutes of play here and there, building up. We just started.”
I look at the opposing bench, eyes narrowed. “Well, I wanna finish.”