Chapter 12
Evan
We were in the lead in the middle of the second period.
Nightly shot the puck toward me, lining everything up perfectly for me to onetime it into the net just like we’d done thousands of times.
As I got ready, I focused, and mid-swing, pain exploded up my arm like lightning.
White-hot, almost blinding. My vision blurred, and I felt a burning in my throat.
Panic flooded through me. Not here. Not now, I begged.
I caught myself against the boards, breathing hard as the pain erupted again.
I heard the concerns from the crowd and then the whistle as suddenly the arena lights became too harsh, too bright.
Everything I’d been hiding now felt exposed.
The months of hiding unraveling right before me as I stood there trying to compose myself.
I took a deep breath, doing my best to straighten myself up so I could play it off as if I had lost my balance because of a muscle cramp and that it was nothing serious.
I’d been doing it for months, hiding pain, making the weakness look like fatigue, surviving on over-the-counter pain medication.
Only this time, I couldn’t pretend. My shoulder wouldn’t respond, and every time I went to lift my arm, the pain was so intense my knees nearly buckled.
“Callahan!” Keller called, skating over to me, coming to a fast stop. “Are you good?”
“Fine…” I muttered, trying to focus on him while I barely recognized my voice because it was so strained.
“Like hell you’re fine,” he said, grabbing my other arm, steadying me. “You’re white as a sheet, man. What happened?”
Nightly came rushing over, coming to a stop. “All good?” he asked, concern lining his voice as he looked at Keller.
I saw Keller whisper something to Nightly as our other teammates circled, their concern overlapping. I could feel the walls closing in, the attention, all these eyes watching what I could no longer hide. This was a nightmare.
Coach Alan’s voice rang out, sharp, and commanding, as he called to Bianca. I looked up, just in time for our eyes to meet. She’d avoided me all day, just like I’d figured, but now she was already moving, grabbing her medical kit, her expression shifting from concern to that professional space.
“Get him to the medical room now,” Coach Alan commanded as Bianca stepped forward.
“Cromwell, help Bianca get Callahan—”
Bianca cleared her throat. “It’s okay, I got him,” she said, professional and composed.
My stomach dropped as I looked at Bianca. Even though she looked like she had everything under control, her eyes told a different story. They were dark, concern mixed with worry and fear.
“Come on, let’s you get you looked at,” she said calmly, but loud enough that her father would hear her. “Let me help you,” she whispered to me.
I wanted to refuse and believe that if I just went back out on the ice, I’d be able to shake it off, but my legs were shaking because the pain was so intense and I could barely think straight.
“Okay,” I muttered.
Bianca slipped her arm around my lower back.
“Use me as a crutch,” she said.
“I’ll crush you,” I muttered, wincing as another shot of pain ran through my arm.
“I’ve got him,” Cromwell announced, coming up beside us.
“Thanks, just don’t touch the right arm,” Bianca bit out, allowing Cromwell to help.
Together they moved me toward the gate. I could hear the murmurs from some of my teammates who had been watching me favor my shoulder for weeks; a couple of them had even seen me ice it after practice, not one of them saying a word.
As we walked down the chute, I couldn’t help but notice the concerned glances from fans in the stands.
“Where do you want to take him?” Cromwell asked.
“Medical room off the locker room,” Bianca said, not wavering.
Once inside, Cromwell helped me to the table and then hovered in the doorway, uncertain if he should leave or not, while Bianca started pulling items from her bag.
“Thanks, I have him,” she said. “You should get back to the game. Team needs you. Tell Coach we will be out as soon as we’re done and go get them.”
Cromwell nodded. “Hope you’re alright, man,” he said, backing out of the room as Bianca shut the door.
I sat on the exam table while Bianca removed my skates, then ran to my locker, grabbed my shoes for me, and then grabbed her phone.
My senses were heightened, the overhead lights buzzing and bright. Right now, in this room, I had nowhere to hide. I was behind a closed door where I no longer had to perform for the crowds, or my teammates, or convince the coaches I was fine.
“What are you doing?” I questioned, wincing from the pain.
“I’m calling an ambulance. We need to get this looked at now.”
Bianca pulled supplies from her bag and the cabinet that was over in the corner, setting up some ice packs, while she fiddled with her phone.
I could also see the tension in her shoulders, and the way her hands slightly trembled as she opened packages of bandages, a look I’d never seen on her face before.
Was she scared? Of me? For me?
“Take your shirt off. Let me see,” she whispered.
“Bianca…”
“No, now, Evan.” The tone of her voice was like steel. “I’ve given you months. I should have dealt with it immediately, and I should have reported it, especially after feeling it last night. No more.”
“Just don’t call just yet,” I begged.
“Evan, you have to be in excruciating pain. Please.”
“I’m not saying don’t. I’m just asking you not to right this second.”
I wasn’t about to fight and disagree with her, mainly because I knew there was no fight left. I went to lift my right arm to pull my jersey off and couldn’t. Pain shot through my shoulder, sharp enough to make me gasp.
Almost instantly, I felt her hands on me. She eased the fabric of my jersey over my head, wasting no time as she cut away my base layer. I felt her fingers brush over my skin, every touch feeling like a bolt of electricity. Then I heard her catch her breath.
I didn’t need to look. I already knew what she saw.
“Evan…” she cried. “The bruising is already spreading across your collarbone. It’s swollen and inflamed…Jesus Christ,” she whispered.
“Don’t, Bianca, please don’t say it.”
“Say what? That you’ve got a grade three separation? That I was right when I thought you had a torn rotator cuff and God knows what else? This could end your career…”
“I told you…don’t.”
Bianca took a step back and looked at me, her eyes beginning to water. “Why? Why would you do this to yourself?”
I closed my eyes. The answer sat in my throat, an answer I knew she already had herself. I’d been running from this ever since the end of last season when I’d felt my shoulder slip and had known what I feared the most.
“Because I refuse to be my father.”
Bianca frowned as she looked at me.
“You don’t get it. My dad was so strong, not to mention a fantastic player, or was before the knee injury and the surgeries. He was everything. But when his body broke…”
God, this room felt way too small, too intimate. I had been lying and playing with pain that made me want to scream for months until Bianca had gotten here.
“I promised myself I’d never be that. That I would never be him and never be broken enough to be a burden to those around me.
So when my shoulder went, I couldn’t admit it.
I couldn’t ask for help because asking meant I was becoming him, and if I became him I’d become a burden and I’d lose everything that I’d worked for. ”
Her hand, feather-light, touched my jaw. “Evan, look at me,” she whispered.
“I don’t want to,” I said, holding my breath as another round of pain hit.
She grabbed my chin and tilted my head up, forcing me to look at her. “You’re not your father, Evan, and being hurt and asking for help doesn’t make you a burden on anyone.” She brushed her thumb against my cheek.
“I don’t know how to ask for help.”
“Well, you have little choice, I’m afraid. You need to let down your walls and let me in. Don’t just allow me to see the parts of you that you think are acceptable.”
I wanted nothing more than to do what she was asking. Yet I had this fear ingrained in me that all I knew how to do was the opposite, even while I was sitting here in unimaginable pain with my shoulder destroyed and the lies I’d told crumbling.
“What if I need surgery and months of recovery and I’m not…What if I can’t come back from this?”
Bianca cupped my face with her hands and looked me in the eyes, holding me steady. “Then we will figure it out. Together.”
“You’re my trainer. The coach’s daughter. You shouldn’t—”
“I may be all those things, but I’m also yours. That is what I am first, that is what I want to be first. Everything else is just logistics.”
My breath caught. Her words hit me so hard I felt as if I’d been punched in the gut. “Bianca.”
“Evan, I’ve known about this injury for months.
I’ve watched you destroy yourself trying to hide it.
I’ve iced your shoulder after midnight when we were alone in your apartment, covered for you with my father, lied to the entire coaching staff, and above all else, I have compromised my professional ethics because I knew you weren’t ready to face the truth.
I couldn’t understand why until I read about your father; then I understood.
So please, don’t you dare tell me I shouldn’t be involved.
I’ve been involved the moment I got here, and I am even more involved now. ”
“Fuck…I’m so sorry,” I whispered, realizing the position I’d put her in.
“Don’t apologize. I had options. I allowed my feelings for you to get in the way.
You were right last night when you said it had to do with Marcus Grant.
I didn’t want to admit that to myself, but you were right.
Just promise me, going forward there won’t be any more hiding, because this needs to get fixed. ”