Chapter 16
Chapter Sixteen
Elliot
Stenberg crashes into me with such speed, I’m unable to react quickly enough.
I fall into the net, and the back of my head bounces off the ice.
But it’s not my head that hurts. It’s the pain blooming from my knee where it’s caught underneath Stenberg at a strange angle that has me gritting my teeth.
Next thing I know, he’s being pulled off me, and gloves are being thrown onto the ice as fists start flying.
But I stay where I am, lying on my back, staring up at the roof of the arena, trying to find the strength to move my leg.
Fuck, please don’t be a tear or a break. It could put me out for the rest of the season.
Zach crouches down next to me, shielding me from the fights breaking out around us.
I have a weird sense of déjà vu from when the roles were reversed a year ago. He was the one lying on the ice after he took a big hit against the boards and was knocked unconscious not far from where we are. And I was the one crouching over him, begging for him to be okay.
Sometimes I can still picture how lifeless he looked. It scared me a lot.
Slowly, I manage to straighten my leg, but not without letting out another strained groan.
“Holy shit, that hurts.”
“Hey, bud, are you okay?” Zach asks. His icy blue eyes are full of worry. I always tell him they don’t look real because they’re like crystals. “Jackson’s bringing Greg over.”
“My knee,” I murmur. “I think I’ve pulled something. Or maybe twisted it. I dunno.”
Greg appears a moment later on my other side. He flashes his pen light into my eyes in a sequence I know is for concussion protocol. I guess he saw my head bounce too.
“I’m fine,” I grumble, wincing at the bright light. Once he’s done, I blink rapidly, trying to clear the black dots spotting my vision.
“Where does it hurt?” he asks.
“It’s my knee. I think I twisted it or something.” I motion to my left leg with my glove.
“Did you feel a snap?”
“Yeah. Well, kinda. It was more like a pop.”
He’s silent for a moment, eyes assessing my leg, even though it’s hidden by my pads.
“Will you help me get him up? We need to keep as much weight off that leg as possible,” he says to Zach.
The crowd begins to applaud when I sit upright, and I suck in a deep breath before rolling onto my side. With Zach and Greg taking some of my weight, I manage to use my other leg to push myself up onto my skate, grimacing from the sharp pain. It feels like my knee is pulsating.
Keeping my injured knee bent slightly, they guide me over to the bench, where Erik, another one of the training staff, is waiting to help take over from Zach.
My teammates tap their sticks against the boards in support before I hobble down the tunnel, wincing and cursing as the pain becomes more intense.
They lead me into the training room and help me onto one of the treatment tables.
Greg begins to remove my pads and skates while I hand over my helmet, blocker, and glove to Erik, then pull off my jersey and all my upper-body protection.
Once I unclip my pants from my belt, we remove them too, leaving me in only my base layers.
I lie back against the table as Greg elevates my leg, and I cover my face with my arms. I can’t believe I got fucking hurt. Two weeks before the All-Star break too. How am I supposed to have all the sex with Hunter with a fucked-up knee?
“Have you got any of the good stuff?” I ask Greg, referring to the good pain relief he keeps in his medical bag.
He chuckles. “You know I do, but we need to go through the concussion protocol once more before you take anything. Then we need to take your pants off so we can take a look at that knee.”
I snort out a laugh. “Greg, I should tell you, my boyfriend won’t like you asking me to take my pants off. He’s very protective of me.”
He laughs too. “I’ll keep that in mind and be on my best behavior.”
I drop my arms back to my sides at the sound of the bag zipper being opened, and he retrieves the stack of cards.
We go through the baseline test first, and then he does the pen light check again on my eyes.
“There’s no damage on the mask,” Erik says, and Greg gives a pleased nod.
“That’s good. I’m pretty sure you don’t have a concussion, but we can’t skip on these tests. I’d like to do another in the morning as well.”
“I know,” I say quietly. “I don’t wanna risk having a broken brain like Zach.”
Although mine is broken for a whole other reason, but I don’t say that.
He grabs a bottle of water from the mini fridge and hands me two anti-inflammatory capsules.
I swallow them down, then take off my bottom base layer until I’m sitting in my boxers.
He assesses my knee, and I let out a string of curses as he pokes and prods around the joint that’s already starting to swell.
“Did you drive here tonight?” Greg asks.
“No, I came with Blaine.”
“Okay, good. I’m going to get you booked in for an MRI tomorrow morning. I don’t think it’s a tear, but we can’t know for sure until I see the images. I’m hopeful it’s a minor sprain at most,” he says, then retrieves an ice pack from the freezer.
“So, I’ll be out for, like, two weeks?” I ask, hopeful.
“Yeah. Four at most.” He applies the ice pack to my knee, and I let out a sharp hiss, shivering from the icy chill seeping through the fabric covering.
“Fucking hell, it’s cold.”
“I’d hope so.” He grins. “You can stay there for as long as you need. Leave that on for twenty minutes or so, and we’ll check on the swelling.”
Lying back on the table, I chat away to Greg and Erik while they get prepared for the intermission rush. When the buzzer signals the end of the period, it becomes a flurry of activity. Peyton comes in for Greg to retape his ankle. Erik works on Zach’s shoulder.
I close my eyes and take a few focused breaths while I listen to the conversations happening around me. I’m beginning to relax until Blaine blows into the room like a tornado.
“Are you okay?” he asks. There’s a bruise already forming under his lip where it’s split.
“I’m fine. Possible sprain, but we won’t know until I’ve had a scan,” I say, then motion to the ice pack on my knee. “Want this for your face? Alex is going to kill you.”
He grimaces, then winces as it must sting his lip. “I know. Two fights in one night, and we’ve still got another twenty minutes to go. He’s not going to be happy with me.”
“Can I have another ice pack?” I ask Greg over my shoulder.
Greg heads to the freezer and tosses me an ice pack. Then I throw it at Blaine’s face. It bounces off his forehead and drops onto the ground.
“What the fuck was that for?” he grumbles, rubbing his forehead before bending down to pick up the ice pack.
“Your face. You’ll thank me later when your husband still loves your ugly ass.”
He holds the pack to his lip and gives me the middle finger.
“Elliot?” Jordan, our equipment manager, calls out. She peeks her head around the corner and knocks her knuckles on the doorframe. “There’s someone here to see you. He’s very adamant he sees you too.”
Hunter.
Shit. He’s going to be so worried.
“Send him in,” I reply, then return my gaze to Blaine. “Don’t worry about me, I’ll be fine. I need you to keep your head in the game and don’t let them win.”
“He’s just through there,” I hear Jordan say, and Hunter appears a moment later. His dark brows are furrowed over his nose, and his hands are stuffed in his pockets, like he wants to reach for me but knows he can’t with all these people around.
Blaine steps aside, allowing Hunter to come over and perch on the edge of the table. “Alex showed me where to come. I didn’t want to wait until the end of the game to see you. Are you okay?”
I smile softly, reaching out to take his hand. “Yeah, I’m fine. I’ll need to have an MRI in the morning, but hopefully, it’ll only be a sprain.”
“I can take you to the hospital,” he says immediately, squeezing my hand. “Whatever you need.”
Behind him, Blaine is grinning like an idiot.
“What?” I ask my brother.
“Nothing.” He shakes his head, then holds his fist out to Hunter. “Nice to see you again.”
“You too.” Hunter returns the fist bump, and then the corner of his lips hitches in a smirk. “Your husband is furious with you. Just thought you should know.”
Blaine lets out a long sigh. “Fuck. I’m gonna be groveling hard tonight.”
Laughing, I give him a thumbs-up. “Bet you’re glad I threw that ice pack at your face now, aren’t you?”
The following morning, Hunter takes me to the hospital for my MRI, where Chris, the team doctor, is waiting for me. They let me play my own playlist through the headphones they provide, and I sing along to settle my nerves while I have the scan.
“Good news. It’s a grade 1 sprain, so it’s minor. You’ll be out for two to four weeks,” Chris says. “Greg will set you up with a rehab program, and as long as you keep on it at home too, you should be good to be back on the ice after the All-Star break.”
“So, what does that mean?” Hunter asks quietly once we get back to his truck.
“I’ll miss the next two weeks’ worth of games, but then it’s the All-Star break, so I’ll have another ten days until our next game.”
He takes out his phone out of his pocket and starts tapping away.
“What are you doing?”
“Requesting some time off work,” he replies without looking up from his phone.
My mouth drops open. “You don’t need to do that.”
His head snaps up. There’s determination in his eyes. “Yes, I do. I need to take care of you.”
The back of my eyes burns at the sincerity in his words. There’s no mistaking it. I’ve always wondered what it would be like to have someone drop everything for me. To be there at a time of need. To show up for me and make me feel like I’m the most important person in their world.
I have that with Hunter. And the idea he would take time off work to take care of me… Fuck. It kinda makes me wanna cry.
“I’ll be okay,” I croak, feeling a little guilty.
“Who’s going to drive you for physio if Blaine’s away?”