Chapter 17
Seventeen
Two weeks later, the Renegades were on the tail end of a road trip and about to face the division rival Columbus Arsenals.
Cassie arrived at the arena early, as usual, and found her spot in the press box.
She did her pregame ritual—drinking her latte, writing notes, reading up on matchups.
On the ice, she could see Luke taking warm-up laps, his hair flowing without his helmet.
She felt a familiar pang and told herself to focus.
Midway through the second period, Luke took a hard hit along the boards.
He stayed down, clutching his left shoulder.
Cassie felt her stomach drop. Trainers came out.
He got up slowly and skated off, head down.
Cassie’s fingers moved automatically, taking notes, recording details.
Her heart pounded. By the third period, the team announced he would not return to the game.
After the game, the locker room hummed with tension.
Luke sat shirtless at his stall, a bag of ice strapped to his shoulder.
Cassie approached with the rest of the scrum.
He answered questions about the hit, said he’d be re-evaluated tomorrow.
His eyes kept darting to her, perhaps looking for something. She kept hers cool, professional.
As the crowd thinned, she lingered. He leaned closer and whispered, “I’m okay. Dislocated shoulder. They popped it back in. I’ll probably be out a couple weeks.”
Her throat tightened. She nodded, forcing a smile. “Good,” she whispered back. “Rest up.”
Back in the press box, Cassie slipped into her seat and opened a fresh document. The arena was quieter now, the hum of cleanup crews echoing faintly through the rafters. She rested her fingers on the keyboard for a moment longer than usual, steadying herself, then began to type.
COLUMBUS, Ohio – Luke Anders left the game midway through the second period after sustaining an apparent shoulder injury along the boards, a blow that visibly stunned both the Renegades’ bench and the crowd here in Columbus.
The defenseman skated off under his own power but did not return to the game. The team announced during the third period that he would be evaluated further.
She paused, reread the sentences, and kept going.
Anders, who has logged some of the heaviest minutes on Pittsburgh’s blue line this season, had been a stabilizing presence before the injury—breaking up rushes, winning battles down low, and anchoring the penalty-kill during a tense opening frame.
His absence forced the Renegades to shorten the bench and shuffle defensive pairings as they tried to protect a one-goal lead.
Cassie leaned back slightly, eyes flicking to the ice below where Luke laid crumpled along the boards not long ago.
The words were clean. Accurate. Professional.
No one reading them would know how tightly her chest had seized when he went down, or how badly she wanted to follow him down the tunnel instead of watching from above.
She filed the story on deadline, closed her laptop, and reminded herself that this—this distance, this discipline—was the cost of loving the game as much as she did.