CHAPTER 9 BREAKING
TALON
Weekday games were a little weird. They were still lively, but they weren’t quite as packed as a Friday or weekend game.
Part of me loved them more because they were the loyal fans, but I did miss the sold-out arenas.
Regardless, I was just happy to be playing.
Hockey was my passion, my reason to breathe most days, especially after Dad died.
I knew it wouldn’t last forever, so I chose to revel in the time I had.
Plus, Aife would be here, and I was determined to score at least one goal for her.
Chris threw some hockey tape at me. He sat down with me on the bench as I began to tape up my stick.
Chris was our captain, a true leader. The Hammers were his first and only team.
This year, he had picked me as assistant captain.
It was an honor that he trusted me to help lead this team.
The Hammers weren’t my first team, but I loved being here.
It helped that Zeke was also on the team. This had been my family for four years.
“Red Cougars tonight.” Chris was a man of few words. “You ready?”
“When am I not?” I sent him a smirk. Hockey made the arrogance jump out of me. I thrived on it, craving the tunnel-like focus that came from the game.
He just shook his head. “Confident and cocky are a fine line, Walker.”
“Maybe.” I finished with my stick. “You alright, cap?”
“I’m good. Last time I faced Detroit, it just didn’t end well.” He pulled his socks on. His eyes popped up briefly to meet mine. “Rammed me into the boards so hard, I was out with a major concussion for three weeks.”
“Fuck,” I said, examining my captain. As put together and calm as Chris was, he looked nervous. He normally wasn’t an anxious guy. “What can I do to help?”
“Play your heart out. And maybe hit a little harder tonight.” Chris stood and threw on his jersey. His gaze narrowed in focus. Game on.
The game was fierce. Both teams were playing with an intensity normally reserved for the playoffs or the Cup. Bodies were hitting the boards like no tomorrow, and shots were taken like there was someone’s life on the line. No one’s shots were getting through.
Zeke really seemed to be holding our team together.
He was outdoing himself, but so was our defense.
On the other hand, I couldn’t put our offensive plays together.
Every time I tried, we’d get hit or tripped up.
Most of my play time had been in the penalty box tonight; I may have taken Chris’s words to heart.
Each hit from the Red Cougars only fueled my desire to hit back, harder and better.
Sitting on the bench, I sucked in some much-needed air.
Maybe our second shift could do what we weren’t able to.
Every play we attempted, Detroit managed to stop.
They were on fire tonight. It was like they had an axe to grind with us, and maybe they did.
We destroyed them in the playoffs last year, so this game was apparently quite personal.
It felt like a playoff game, like everything rode on tonight.
“Walker.” Coach looked over his shoulder. “You have to figure something out. It’s the third period, son. Get me a fucking goal.”
With those words ringing in my ears, I hopped onto the ice and slammed my stick for the puck.
My center passed it perfectly, and I shot up the ice like a bullet.
I blew by some of Detroit’s fastest players before it was just me and the goalie.
Their goalkeeper had played the best game of his life tonight.
He had anticipated all of our shots, but I forced it out of my head.
Centering myself with a breath, I pulled my stick back and hit the puck with all my might.
It sailed through the air and slipped just past his right hand, barreling into the net.
The buzzer sounded and then my teammates rammed into me causing me to fall onto the ice.
“Atta boy.” Chris pulled me up. “MVP tonight.” We skated back to center ice for the puck drop.
Detroit had ninety seconds to score, and I was going to make sure it didn’t happen. I watched the ref drop the puck and Chris win the face off before dropping the puck back to Ryan. We managed to keep the puck away from them as the final buzzer sounded.
A cheer erupted from the bench at the same time the Chaos Coliseum erupted in chaos.
My eyes found Aife’s, and I shot a grin at her.
We won! I scored the game-winning goal. I was practically on top of the world.
Then I felt my skates slip from under me as someone slammed into my back.
Without thinking, I threw my hands out to catch myself and that’s when I heard a gut-wrenching snap.
Time seemed to slow down as I realized I was face first on the ice. Someone was on top of me, pushing my face further into the ground below, the frozen ground.
While I was vaguely aware of these things, my mind was really focused on the pain radiating from my left wrist.
It was pain I had never felt before. My eyes welled with tears the more I focused on the pain.
I was also acutely aware of the silence that had filled the massive arena.
All our euphoria from winning had been sucked out of the space.
Sharp, intense pain slammed into me; my eyes welling at the ache.
“Get off.” Zeke’s voice was low, deadly. “I will fucking end you.”
The body was lifted from my back, and I took that moment to roll over, cradling my injured wrist.
I was too afraid to look at it. An injury could end a career, and I wasn’t ready to stop hockey, to stop playing.
All kinds of what ifs began to war in my head.
Then pain took over, and my stomach roiled at the blinding pain.
I gagged, breathing through my nose so I wouldn’t puke.
“TJ.” Chris hovered over me, fear apparent on his face. “Do you need help getting up?”
I could hear a scuffle next to me. It sounded like someone being dragged from the ice. My wrist was on fire. “Help.” The word came out soft, terrified. This was a new feeling. What the hell was going on? I wasn’t this guy. Tears dropped down my face.
Chris held a hand out to me. I kept my wrist cradled against my chest. Movement hurt. To be fair, everything hurt at the moment. “TJ. Come on.” He motioned for Ryan to skate over. “Let us help you.”
Ryan and Chris put their arms under me and pulled me up. My skates wobbled under me which had never happened. I was always completely sure of myself on the ice. Once I was upright, waves of nausea hit me. My stomach rolled, lurching painfully as black spots swam in my vision. “I’m gonna vomit.”
I swayed on my feet as bile rose up in my throat.
I tried to push it down, to get off the ice.
I couldn’t. The bile hit my esophagus and then I was back on the ice, vomiting up all the contents of my stomach.
The pain was unbearable. My vision turned black, and white spots appeared.
Sweat mingled with the tears as my hair fell into my face.
“Talon!” I don’t know how she got on the ice, but Aife was suddenly near me. “Look at me.” Her voice was soft, gentle. It was the opposite of how I felt right now. Her hands were cold, pressing against my overheated neck and back.
My eyes met hers. “Fuck.” Pain radiated throughout my wrist.
I didn’t have the words to explain the pain, but it felt like my wrist was shattered.
A black pit hit my chest, stomach, and throat.
Air felt impossible as my throat seemed to close.
My eyes raced over her face, pain and shame warring in me.
“Breathe with me.” She gently took my right hand and laid it on her chest so I could feel her breaths. “In. Hold for five. Out. Good. Again.”
I followed her lead. My breathing was still ragged.
The pain was still there, but my vision was clearer. The black spots had receded. “Fuck.” The word was long and drawn out.
“Talon, give me your feet.” She helped me sit back.
Once my feet were in front of her, she tugged my skates off, her fingers faster than my eyes could track. Tears still flowed down my cheeks. “You need to go to the hospital.”
“No.” The last time I went to a hospital, my dad died. I refused to go near one. I hated them. My shoulders tensed, bunching up near my ears.
“Yes,” she said with a sharp glare. “Have you even looked at your wrist?” She stood up, motioning for my team to come help get me upright again. “I’ll go with you.”
“Promise?” My voice was weak, too soft to my own ears.
“I promise.” Aife picked up my skates. “I’ll hold your hand the entire time.”
Hospitals were always the same: clean, sterile, and bright.
I hated them. There were no good memories in places like these.
To me, hospitals meant death. The constant beeping was grating, making my jaw clench.
They had pulled me back about thirty minutes ago and hooked me up to some IVs.
They didn’t even take x-rays, just immediately grabbed a doctor to re-break my wrist and then put me in a cast.
Now we were waiting for discharge 141 medication and instructions.
Really all I cared about was how long I’d be out.
How long would I be away from hockey, the ice, the rink, the adrenaline?
The things that kept me sane? My feet bounced, my anxiety hitting my chest.
Aife looked at me carefully. She was reading my face, trying to figure out my emotions.
I’d been quiet since we got here. She kept her promise and stayed.
Maybe Davis was right, and Aife had wormed her way into my cold heart.
I hated when he was right. The worst part of all of this was not knowing who broke my wrist.
Did he ruin my career? My feet bounced faster.
“Talon, where’s your head?” Aife traced a thumb over the hand she was holding, squeezing it gently. “You haven’t said a word since we got to the hospital.”
I looked at her. She had been so calm throughout this. She asked all the questions for me, wrote down things, and advocated for me in ways I didn’t think I needed. I couldn’t tell if it came from her social work background or her own experience.
“How do you know what to ask?” My voice was strained, frayed from crying.
“I do this for a living.” The words didn’t quite match her expertise or the expression she wore. If I wasn’t still in so much pain, I would have called her out.
“Aife…” My voice was almost pleading. “What if my wrist is permanently fucked up?” I finally asked the question that was really on my mind. My feet stopped bouncing for half a second.