Chapter Eleven
Denis
I knew it was foolish of me, but even after so many weeks of silence, I looked in the stands during home games, wondering if Sterling would show up again.
Blades Arena held twenty-five thousand people, and I hadn’t left him a VIP ticket, so why I thought I’d spot him was beyond me.
Maybe he’d exude a pompous-ass, don’t-touch-me aura that would surround him, making him easy to find.
Today, though, I didn’t have to think about it, as we were playing an away game.
It also didn’t help that Rip constantly questioned me about him. Tonight was no exception. As we were getting ready to take the ice, he sat by my locker while I put on my gear.
“Why don’t you call him?” he asked as he examined his stick to make sure it was taped and ready.
“Call who?” I strapped on my skates.
“Don’t be dense. I saw how you looked at Sterling that night when we had dinner. You like him.”
“What I’d like is to stop talking about this. The man is not my type. Too rigid. He probably wears a suit and tie to bed. Plus, he still thinks we’re all just a bunch of ignorant jocks.”
“So? Prove him wrong. The Denis I know would take it as a challenge.”
But you don’t really know me.
“I don’t have his number.” I strapped on my ankle guards, then the blockers.
“I do. You want it?” His eyes danced.
“No. I don’t.” I slid the chest protector over my head. “I’m not chasing anyone. Besides, that one is way too much trouble.”
“Trouble can be a good thing.”
Exasperated, I glared at his smirking face. “Why are you all up in my love life anyway? You’re a newlywed. Shouldn’t you be more concerned with keeping your man satisfied?”
His grin widened. “Trust me, I have no problem in that area. We both satisfy each other completely.”
No denying that. I’d never seen Rip as content, and he was playing at the top of his game. “So now you’ve moved on to tormenting me?”
To my surprise, Rip didn’t volley another smartass remark at me. “I care about you, Denis. We were close once, and I want you to be happy. Right now, I don’t think you are.”
Unexpected tears stung my eyes. “But I am. I have two Stanley Cups, all the money in the world, and a beautiful apartment. I have a great life.” Like many other players, I’d secured a long-term contract front-loaded with salary, and with my off-ice endorsement deals, even if I stopped playing now, I’d never have to work again for the rest of my life. “We’ve done well for ourselves.”
Somber, Rip nodded. “We have, but that’s not what I’m talking about.
All that is material stuff. You joke about being the playboy, and you’ve gone out with tons of guys, but I know you.
Maybe better than you know yourself, because you won’t admit the truth.
You want someone steady to come home to. Someone who loves you.”
“Well, unfortunately for me, you’ve already taken the perfect man.”
A slight smile tipped up the corner of Rip’s mouth. “Damn right. But the man who’s perfect for you is out there as well. Just don’t make a mistake and look past him.”
“One thing I’m curious about. Adrian is always friendly to me.”
Rip shrugged. “He’s a nice guy.”
“You never told him about the time I suggested the threesome, did you? I hope not.”
“Actually, I did. We have no secrets. He also knows I threw you out.”
My cheeks flamed. “Not one of my finer moments. I don’t think I ever properly apologized for that apart from everything else. I knew you wouldn’t go for it. I was lashing out.”
He clapped me on the back. “I know. I don’t give it a second thought, and neither should you.”
Coach came in and gave us our pregame directives.
I knew the Icers would be after our asses.
When Gordie and I had been together, his teammates were friendly, but now that we’d broken up, they’d made it their mission to come at me with a vengeance.
I was definitely enemy number one in their minds, and I’d best be on top of my game.
We tramped through the tunnel and onto the ice. We were in Icers territory and booed as soon as we skated out. I ignored the name-calling and concentrated on getting comfortable in front of the net. Ellis and I practiced taking shots, and I had to admit he was good. Fast, instinctive, and smart.
The game began, and right away I could see the Icers had changed tactics from the previous seasons.
Now they were heavy into forechecking, less about finessing the puck and more about strong-arming and playing physical.
Caught off guard, we had to adjust, but they ran with the puck, and their center, Ray Sorenson, came up in my face in an attempt to smash right through me.
“Motherfucker, that’s not how this is going to play out,” I snarled and made the save. Ray grinned and shoved his stick at my face.
“Yeah? We’ll see about that, asshole.”
We regrouped after a time-out and came out ready to bust through their new tactics.
By the end of the third period, we were ahead, 4-2.
Several fights had broken out, and even Coach had been ejected from the game for arguing with the refs.
With two minutes left, Rip and Sorenson took the face-off and fought it out on the boards.
Seb and Chitty muscled the puck out and passed to Varhov, who took a shot but missed.
It was picked up by the Icers, and they tore down the ice.
I was facing a five on one, and though Seb was right there and the others were catching up, it was left up to me to face those bastards.
“Fuck you, Bouvier,” their defender, McLucas, yelled, attempting to draw me out, but I was too canny to fall for that trick. I knew exactly how far I could come in the crease without getting called for a penalty.
Their shot on goal went wide, but instead of going after the puck, McLucas skated into me and rammed me with his stick.
It slipped under my padding, and my leg twisted in a position I knew right away was going to be a problem.
Pain rocketed up my groin through my side, and I collapsed, yelling in agony.
“Fuck, fuck,” I screamed, holding my side. Whistles blew, and Hutch, along with others from the medical team, ran out. I couldn’t walk and was helped off the ice to cheers, Rip holding me on one side and Chitty on the other.
“What the fuck was that all about?” Hutch and Coach both fumed as I was taken to the medical suite.
“They were gunning for me. From the start. All because of Gordie. McLucas came into the net deliberately. He wanted to hurt me. Salopard, connard,” I swore.
“My guess is a groin injury. Hopefully you didn’t tear anything. We’ll know more after the MRI.”
“Son of a bitch, coward,” I continued to spew curses as they helped me undress and change. I was taken to the hospital and waited for testing. I lay on a narrow bed, feeling more alone than I ever had in my life.
When I was finally taken to a room, Coach, Hutch, and Rip were there waiting for me. It was so good to see familiar faces that I almost broke down and cried. Instead, I put on a brave face and gave a thumbs-up.
“Mes amis, what is the good word?” The pain meds were wearing off, and my entire body throbbed. I winced as they moved me to the bed, and I didn’t miss the anxious looks Hutch and Coach exchanged.
“How do you feel?” Rip asked, standing by my bedside.
“Like I had a stick shoved from my balls up to my ribs.”
“They’re going to expedite reading your results, so we should know soon how bad it is.” Hutch’s grim face didn’t make me feel better.
“I’m sure it’ll be fine. A bruise on my nuts. I’ll rest and be ready for the next game.” I forced a smile. “It’s not as if I’m getting any action anyway, so no loss.”
My joke fell flat. The doctor entered the room, and everyone shut up and waited. I didn’t breathe.
“Mr. Bouvier, I’m Dr. Raskin. You’ve suffered a groin injury somewhere between mild to moderate. You’ll need to stay off it for at least two weeks, possibly a month, apply ice, do physical therapy, and rest it. If you don’t improve, could be six weeks.”
A month? Six weeks? “Impossible. I have to—”
“Rest. You listen to me because if you don’t and you exacerbate the injured area, it’ll become weak, and the next time it’ll tear and you’ll be out for the entire season.” He fixed me with a disapproving glare. “If you take care and follow instructions, you won’t suffer any lasting effects.”
I fell back on the pillow. “Fuck.” Three sets of eyes watched me, and I rubbed my face. “I can’t believe it. Those bastards got what they wanted.”
“It’s treatable, Denis,” Hutch said. “A common injury. You know that. We’ll get you home and begin a regimen for your recovery right away.”
“Goddamn right, we will.”
My attempt to get out of the bed had me seeing stars from the pain, and Rip put a hand on my shoulder.
“Don’t move. We’re gonna get you set up to come home with the team.”
Hutch nodded. “Yeah. I’m gonna stay with you throughout your transport so you won’t have to worry.”
“Not worry? I can’t fucking walk.” I clenched my fists. “Sorry. I don’t mean to take it out on you. I’m glad you’re all here.”
Rip patted me on the shoulder. “I’m gonna go to the hotel. Do you want me to pack your stuff up for you?”
I carded my hands through my hair. I hadn’t cleaned up or showered and felt like a broken mess. Careers had ended on injuries like this, but I wasn’t ready to give up. They’d have to carry me out feet first before I’d walk away.
“Please. And Hutch?” I turned to him. “I promise to do everything you ask of me. I’m not planning on being a hero. I’ll be playing again soon enough.”
“I know you will.” He squeezed my shoulder. “I’m going to talk to the doctors. You get some sleep, and we’ll be here in the morning to pick you up.”