Chapter Sixteen
Yes, yes, yes! Ellie isn’t leaving town!
And I’m the first to know.
That makes me happy in a way I can’t even put into words.
Good thing she told me while I was driving. If I hadn’t been behind the wheel, and she over in the passenger seat, I may not have been able to stop myself from grabbing her up in a massive hug, lifting her off her feet, and spinning her around.
That’s how joyful I felt.
I’m still riding high, and we’re near the end of the third period in our game against the Columbus Blue Jackets.
It’s been a good matchup. There’s not been a lot of defense but plenty of offense—we’re up 6–4—which is always fun for the fans.
Time is winding down, and the Blue Jackets just pulled their goaltender.
It’s getting a little chippy out on the ice, seeing as their players are feeling frustrated.
They’ve had some good opportunities, but our goalie has been solid. I’m confident that nothing is getting past him with just two minutes left in the game.
I’m on the blue line, and Arden just passed me the puck.
I make sure I’m the first going into the opponent’s zone so we’re not offside.
I accomplish that, and my linemates quickly follow.
Still, I’m ahead of everyone.
And I have a nice empty net staring at me.
I take my shot and the puck goes in, but in the same second, I feel a stick whack at my ankle, right where there’s not a lot of padding.
“Fuck!” I scream as a stinging pain radiates from where some fuckhead Columbus player just slashed me.
I turn around and see him laughing.
My teammates race in, as do their guys, and the refs and linesmen have to separate everyone.
I’d like to fight the fucker myself, but a ref, the one who just called the penalty against him, is leading the jackass to the box.
My ankle is definitely fucked up, but I’m able to hobble-skate my way over to the bench.
Our trainer immediately takes me to the back room, where I’m evaluated by our medical team using a series of imaging and tests.
“So,” I ask our team doctor from where I’m lying on the exam table in a tech tee and long black shorts, “how bad is it?”
Sternly, he says, “The good news is, your ankle isn’t broken.”
I blow out a sigh of relief and start to sit up.
“Whoa, hold on there.” He places a hand on my shoulder, urging me to lie back down. “It’s not all good news, my friend.”
Ugh!
I run my hand down my face and ask, “Am I going to be out of the lineup?”
“Yes.” He nods. “You may not have a break, but there is a small hairline fracture. We’ll tape you up before you leave, and I’m going to give you a set of crutches. They’re not for long term, but I’d like for you to not put too much weight on that ankle for a few days. It’s going to heal on its own, but no skating for at least three weeks.”
“Three weeks!” I cry out, and this time he’s not quick enough to stop me from sitting up. “It’s almost December. That means I won’t be back playing until around Christmas. Is that right?”
“It’s an accurate estimate,” the doctor confirms.
“Great,” I mumble. “Just great.”
The only bright spot in this whole clusterfuck of a situation is that I’ll get to spend some quality time with Ellie.
Funny how there was once a time that I avoided her. I can’t even imagine that now. She’s such a part of my life, and an important one at that.
That’s why I was so happy earlier when she gave me the good news that she’s staying in Atlanta. Even with the bad news of this injury, the thought of her not leaving me makes me smile.
Shit, wait till she hears I’m out of the lineup till late December.
I know she saw that opposing player slash my ankle, though I wasn’t able to catch her reaction, since she was seated over on the other side of the arena.
I bet she’s worried.
We planned to meet in the players’ family lounge after I was showered and dressed, which is something I now still have to do.
I ask the doctor about that, and he recommends waiting to shower until I get home.
“Do you have someone there who can help you with things so you can stay off your feet for a few days?” he asks.
“Help me with what? Showering?” I blurt out, my mind filling with images of me surely fucking my ankle up even more if Ellie were in the shower with me.
Yeah, I’d have her up against the tile, holding onto the wall—
“No,” the doctor replies with a chuckle as he breaks me out of my lusty reverie. “I meant someone who can help you around the house with various things here and there.”
“Yes.” I nod, knowing Ellie will be more than willing to do whatever it takes to get me back on my skates and playing again.
She knows how important hockey is to me.
Before I leave, I get taped up.
And then I hobble down the hallway on my crutches to go find Ellie.