Chapter 4
Silas
“Damn it, Harrison. Sit your ass down and let me take a look at it.” Liam, our team’s head athletic trainer, is more than ready to knock me out.
“It was just a mild roll,” I mutter as I settle onto the bench by my locker. He didn’t even let me rinse off the sweat from our morning skate before cornering me after I gracefully somersaulted into the boards. Another reason for Coach to shift the lines.
Liam palms his face, the frustration evident in his voice. “Your ankle rolled out from under you, and you needed Colt to help you up. At least let me take a look at it before you head out.”
“I’m fine, Liam. Laces were too loose. I tightened them. Problem fixed.”
“Problem not fixed. Twenty bucks says that ankle swells the minute that skate comes off. Come find me when you need it taped.” He slings a black hand towel over his shoulder before stalking off to find another unsuspecting victim.
I don’t have time to feel bad before another grumbly voice sounds from over my shoulder.
Shit. Of course, he witnessed that.
I don’t need to look up from stripping my pads to know Coach Thorn Cason is ready to tear me a new one for multiple careless mistakes.
“The hell’s wrong with you, boy?”
Instead of giving him a sound answer, I roll my eyes. I’m feeling rebellious. Sue me. “I’m only eight years younger than you, old man.”
He doesn’t flinch at the dig. He doesn’t even acknowledge it. Damn him for being the bigger person today.
“Your reaction time is sluggish. Not just today, either.”
“I’ll put in extra practice. Up my nutritional intake.” Denial. Who, me?
Thorn studies me for a moment, and the look isn’t one I’m comfortable with. It’s a look he usually reserves for whoever is about to get sent back to the farm team. Instead, he shakes his head and changes tactics.
“Hannah wants Aubrey to come over for a long-weekend slumber party.”
My head is shaking before he finishes his sentence. As I sit on the bench to unlace my skates, I keep my focus down. Usually, pride goeth before the fall. Well, damn it, today the fall took pride for a ride.
“I don’t need help, Thorn.”
My old teammate and the best coach I’ve ever had squats in front of me until his eyes meet mine. “I’m coming at this from a place of love and a nearly decade-long friendship. You need sleep, Silas. You’re exhausted.”
“I have a resp—”
He rests a hand on my shoulder. “You’re exhausted, and we’re here to help. Aubrey will come over and have a girls’ weekend. Hannah will take care of everything, including providing you with proof of life. But you need the weekend off to recuperate.”
“No.” The word is out of my mouth before I can even process that I’ve said it. My gut clenches at how it sounds, and before I can explain, Thorn’s expression hardens.
Coach Cason has replaced Friend Thorn.
“Wanna try that again, bud?” He holds my stare, those ice-blue eyes boring through my defenses.
He was my mentor and friend long before he became my coach, and he’s always had this uncanny ability to see past the bullshit.
He’ll let you pretend you have it all together, but somehow, the bastard always knows.
“I don’t want time off. Or away from my little sister. She’s still fragile.” Hell, we both are. It’s only been six months since our lives did a back dive and landed with a resounding belly buster.
“The ankle is your reason,” he says, his eyes daring me to argue.
“You don’t want to make it about your home-life situation with the fresh meat, you make it about the ankle.
Liam isn’t going to clear you, anyway. Use it to your advantage.
Don’t let me find you in the weight room or on the ice until Monday.
” He stands at his full height. In sneakers, he’s almost as tall as me on skates.
The dude’s a beast at six-foot-five. Skill isn’t the only reason he was a phenomenal player.
“Thorn.”
“Silas.” He clasps me on the shoulder one more time. “If you don’t take care of yourself, you won’t be able to take care of her. I’ll let Aubrey know to get her things together. Hannah will be here soon.”
I can’t tell if the weight on my chest lessens or presses harder as Thorn slips out of the locker room, thankfully pretending not to notice the moisture gathering in my lashes.
I can’t say the same for Rooker, who’s standing inside the far entrance to the room. “Eavesdrop much?”
Rooks just shrugs his wide shoulders, seemingly even more massive with his pads still on.
“You’re in the locker room before practice officially ends.
As soon as the babies finish cleaning up our gear, they’ll be headed in here as well.
What’d you expect?” he asks as I continue stripping to my base layers while babying the hell out of my ankle.
Because, damn it, Liam was right. I can already feel it pulsing without the support of my skate. Twenty-year-old me would be ashamed of the joints on thirty-four-year-old me.
Luckily, I get my gear off and packed away as everyone else slips into the room. I’m thankful I wore my slides this morning. No way am I fitting this foot into a sneaker.
Gingerly, I make my way to the trainer’s office. Liam doesn’t even glance up from his paperwork. He just points toward his exam table on the far side of the room. He already has a roll of tape waiting. “Pop a squat. I’ll be over in just a minute.”
As I sit and lift my leg, the muscles in my hams tighten, and I curse.
Between embarrassing myself on the ice and Thorn’s distraction, I never made it to my usual cooldowns, and at this age, my body doesn’t recover like it used to.
Liam rolls his stool across the room to me, still not saying a word as he gingerly prods at my ankle then expertly wraps it.
“Thanks, man,” I say as I shift to my feet. The tape job is secure enough that I don’t feel like my ankle will collapse, but it’s still uncomfortable.
“It’s my job,” he says as he stores the supplies.
“You didn’t deserve the snark, especially from a veteran player.” Normally, I don’t care if I offend someone, but this time I was wrong.
Finally, he glances at me and nods. “R.I.C.E. the ankle. It doesn’t look as bad as I expected, and you know your body. I’d still advise taking it easy for a few days if you can manage it.”
“Coach banned me until Monday.”
“Even better. Pop an anti-inflammatory if it’s bothering you too much. I want to check it again before you lace up Monday.”
“Thanks again, Liam.”
He nods, and I let myself out and head for the parking lot. I’m more than a little grateful Rooks drove us today. He’s waiting at the truck with Hannah and Aubrey.
When Aubrey spots me, she bounds across the lot, her blonde ponytail swinging against her shoulders. “Bubba! I can really stay with Hannah all weekend?” she asks, her energy nearly bubbling out her ears.
“Do you want to?” I ask, unable to hide the grin at her infectious excitement.
“Um, duh!” She gestures to her red-and-black Voltage tank top and plants a hand on her hip. “This chick needs girl time. I love you, but you smell bad.”
Instead of responding, I snatch her into my chest and press her face against me. As she squeals and giggles, I look at Hannah. “You sure you’re up for this?”
As much as I trust her and Thorn, I can’t stop the anxiety that courses through my veins as I finally let Aubrey out of my grasp.
“We’re good, Si. Promise. We’ll call you throughout the day, and if she needs you, we’re only two streets away.”
I tug on Aubrey’s ponytail to make her look at me. “Call or text before bed and when you wake up. And at lunch. And—”
“Don’t be so overbearing, big brother. Hannah’s got me. And Uncle Thorn is going to teach me how to turn faster so I can beat you next time.”
Hannah and Rooks laugh as I scratch the back of my head and bite my tongue.
“Okay, honey,” Hannah says as she steers Aubrey toward her vehicle. “Let’s not stress Silas out too much before we leave the rink.” She glances back. “Seriously, Silas. Go rest. I’ve got her, and if we need you for whatever reason, you can literally run to our house in under eight minutes.”
With that, I watch the best thing to ever happen to me slip into Hannah’s green SUV. My chest tightens as the car pulls away, equal parts relief and ache.
Rooker's eyes bore into the side of my head. “You’re not going to rest or relax at all, are you?”
“Not a chance.”