21. No Photos, Please #3
This is my fault. I took an already risky injury and made it so much worse.
His face feels damp against my skin. “It’s not your fault.”
But it is. When he tries to let me go, I hold on to try and keep everything else out. “Not yet.”
I’ve never felt like that before. But he doesn’t move, his hands secure against my spine until I eventually find the strength to pull away. “What are they saying?”
“I can’t pull it back enough to get the strength for the shots.
” Carter runs a hand over his face. We turn back to the rink, Carter’s skates tapping on the arena floor as we both lean over the barrier.
“I think… I think I might be done, Ro. Surgery will help, but…they’re saying I might not be able to play.
Not this season. Maybe not ever. Here, at least.”
He tips his head back, but his eyes are shining. “I don’t know what to do.”
I fight back my own tears. This isn’t about me. Not here. “Who’s saying it? Mina? Miles? He’d never let that happen without a fight.”
“Miles is battling Mina over pain management.” He shakes his head. “He thinks we can go to a stronger schedule, but she wants to try more physio first.”
“Stronger meds?” I stare at him. “Is that possible?”
I’m… not sure how I feel about that. But I bite down on my opinion. No matter what he says, this feels like it’s my fault. “Wouldn’t that just… mask it?”
“Yeah,” he says after a moment. Carter looks over at me. “But long enough that I could at least see this season out. I… fuck, Ro. That’s all I want. If it’s not now, it’s not going to be ever. I can’t leave the team like this.”
He drops his head. “Shit. I didn’t even ask. You feeling better?”
I blink, taken aback by the switch. “What?”
“Liam said you had a migraine the other night.” Carter frowns. “That’s new. And what did you do to your scent? You smell like a basket of those dried petals they shove into communal bathrooms.”
“Thanks.” I grapple for an answer as he watches. But it’s Liam’s words that rise to my lips. “I was having trouble with all the scents at home. This… helps. I’m fine.”
He breathes out. “Good. That’s really good. You had me worried. Sorry I haven’t been around much.”
I stay still as he wraps his arm around me and kisses my head. “Times like this I’m glad we have a pack. You and Lauren okay now? Jonas said things are better.”
Liam and Jonas have apparently been saying a lot of things. I stare out at the ice, watching Gabe collect the pucks. The lump in my throat grows bigger until it could strangle me. “Fine.”
“Good.” He steps back, offering me a quick, distracted smile. “I need to get to the video room. I’ll be late again. Sorry.”
“Don’t worry about it.” It hurts. “That’s the season, right? Focus on your shoulder.”
“Good job you’re coming to the Midwest swing, or I wouldn’t see you until Sponsor Day at this rate.” Carter pecks me on the lips before smiling tiredly. “Have faith in me, Ro. I need it.”
“I do,” I whisper.
I always do. Even when he’s breaking my heart. He’s never felt as far away from me as he does right now.
Carter glances behind us, his frame tightening. “We should get going. Aces are coming in for practice.”
He snags my hand after tugging off his skates. “Walk with me?”
I think I might follow wherever he’s going and curl up in his lap. I grip his hand tightly enough that he looks at me again. Closer, this time, his nose wrinkling. “You sure you’re good? I can’t pick anything up with that shit you’re using.”
“I’m fine.”
See it. See me. Say something.
He opens his mouth—
“Stealing our rink time now too, Reynolds?”
No. No.
But Carter’s already turned away, his expression settling into familiar lines of stone. His retort is sharp, whatever words he just had vanishing beneath contempt. “Leaving our rink, Mercer. Problem?”
He was going to say something. He was.
But his hand tightens around mine as he tugs me forward. I follow silently, legs suddenly unsteady as we approach the group of scarlet jerseys clustered in the doorway.
Boone gives me a grin. “Hope I’m interrupting.”
I don’t say a word. Boone’s smirk slips at whatever he sees on my face. “You good, ragdoll?”
Carter gets in his face, nudging me back and pushing close enough that their noses touch. “Don’t fucking speak to her.”
“Don’t tell her who she can and can’t speak with. I was asking her a goddamned question. Shut the fuck up.” Boone turns back to me, ignoring the incensed alpha less than an inch away from his face. “Rosie?”
Carter squeezes my hand, and I swallow. “I’m fine.”
Boone’s eyes flicker, but Carter yanks me past him roughly. “Come on. Asshole.”
Shouldering between Yukov and Austin Navarro, he pulls me alongside him. Yukov stays silent, but Navarro inhales as I pass, and my cheeks turn scarlet.
I glance over my shoulder. Boone watches us go with a deep frown. Mackenzie murmurs to him, both alphas looking our way before Carter pulls me out of sight.
“Fuckers.” Carter squeezes my hand. “I’ll be glad when they can fuck off back to their own arena.”
“Yeah,” I manage finally.
There’s not really anything else to say.