Chapter Nineteen
Nick jumped over the boards for his next shift. They were tied at two, five minutes down in the third period. The blades on the ice, the sticks smacking against each other, the roar of the crowd all blended into the background, as he hurried into the offensive zone.
His position on the left wing kept him close to the boards.
The puck was dumped into the corner, and he hustled in to dig it out.
The opposing defenseman jumped in, ramming his stick in, trying to gain control.
Nick shifted so his back was to the defenseman, blocking him.
That got him a jab in the kidney for his trouble.
He grunted. But he gained control of the puck and looked up.
There was a jam in front of the net, but Cams was open on the blue line, so he passed to him.
Cams passed it to his partner, and Nick moved over in front of the net.
The defenseman passed it back to Cams who then took a shot.
Nick slammed his stick on the ice. The puck hit the blade and changed trajectory.
The goalie wasn’t expecting it, and the puck slipped past him, through the space between his body and his arm.
The red light came on and the crown went wild. Nick’s teammates crowded around him, slapping him on the back and the helmet in celebration. He couldn’t wipe the stupid grin off his face. Ever since his talk with Ty last night, he’d felt different.
There was no longer a weight around his neck, anchoring him down. His feelings about the game and what it meant to him had somehow shifted. Playing professionally was a privilege. And freaking amazing. It had been a long time since he’d felt like this. It was refreshing. And freeing.
He could focus on the game and not worry about anything else. Especially here, where there were no expectations other than going out and playing your hardest.
“A goal and an assist.” Gary, the assistant coach placed his hand on Nick’s shoulder. “Not a bad come back, Sadler.”
Nick nodded and turned his focus back to the game.
The play was tight, moving from end to end at a quick, almost frantic pace.
He jumped over the boards for his next shift and headed into the defensive zone.
The opposing team was working hard in the corners, controlling the play.
Cams managed to gain control, and Nick smacked his blade on the ice to indicate he was open.
The puck hit the blade of his stick and he glanced up. He made it over the blue line, Shaney, his center man, was already streaking ahead. He passed the puck up to him, tape to tape. Shaney was in the clear on a breakaway. He deked once and then buried one top shelf.
Nick lifted his arms in celebration. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the blur of an opposing sweater barreling toward him. He tried to get out of the way, but it was too late. The guy hit him with a flying elbow. It was like getting hit by a fucking freight train.
The hit lifted Nick off his feet and sent his head banging against the glass. The crack of his helmet was loud. And then the world went black.
Alex watched as the Dallas player hit Nick after the play with a nasty, flying elbow. Nick hit the boards and glass with a crash, and crumpled to the ice.
The almost capacity crown collectively gasped, and then an eerie silence descending on the building. Bile rolled up her throat. She slapped her hand over her mouth to stop from screaming or crying. Or maybe throwing up.
He wasn’t moving. Was just lying there on the ice. Not moving.
She was out her seat and headed down to ice level before she even realized she was going to move. Please be okay, please be okay, please be okay. She elbowed her way to the glass.
The team medics were already on the ice. One of them was down on his knees next to Nick. Nick’s eyes were open—her knees almost buckled with relief—and the medic was talking to him. His lips moved, answering the medic’s questions.
She leaned against the glass to keep herself upright. The cold plexiglass stung her forehead.
Nick rolled over onto his hands and knees.
The medic said something, and Nick nodded and got to his feet.
The crowd cheered and clapped, but she couldn’t move.
Her blood was as cold as the ice they were playing on.
She watched him slowly make his way to the bench.
The medic kept a hold of him and his teammates gathered around him.
She elbowed her way in that direction, pushing when she needed to. Now was not the time for decorum. She made it to the area behind the bench just as Nick got there.
“Nick.” She yelled his name, hoping he’d hear her over the crowd. “Nick. Nick.” She hopped up and down, banging on the glass.
He looked up, pain and confusion in his gaze.
“I’m here, I’m here.” She was so close to hiking over the glass just to get to him.
He turned to the medic and said something. The medic looked at her and nodded. Then Nick was hustled into the hallway leading to the dressing room and out of sight.
She stood there, heart lodged in her throat, not sure what to do next. He’d seen her, hadn’t he? Then again, he just took a major blow to the head, so it was possible he hadn’t seen her at all. Or at least registered she was actually here.
What to do? What to do? What to do?
She could try to get behind the scenes, although that was probably going to be difficult. Even if she was technically his strength and conditioning coach. She had no way to prove it. Would they take her word for it?
A guy wearing the Barons colors came out of the tunnel and glanced at the crowd behind the bench. His gaze landed on her. Her stomach clenched. He climbed the plexiglass in front of her until his head popped over the top.
“Alex Dumont?”
“Yes.”
“Meet me up on the plaza level in five minutes. I’ll bring you down.”
She nodded, her throat too clogged to let words slip past. Nick had seen her, had known who she was. And he was asking for her.
She hurried up to the plaza level, staying in the same section to make it easier. As promised, the Barons staff guy showed up a few minutes later and led down into the team area.
It wasn’t the first time she’d been in a personnel-only area for a team, although this was definitely the biggest one. Her previous experience was mostly college and university level. Not the big leagues.
Everything here was very regimented and orderly.
Her precision loving heart felt right at home.
Or would have, if every beat wasn’t screaming out for Nick to be okay.
Every second sent a new rush of worry through her.
He could very easily have a concussion—at this point, it was pretty much a given—and there was also the possibility of some other kind of head injury, or even a spinal injury.
The Barons guy, who’d introduced himself as Steve, stopped next to a door with a medical room plaque on it and pulled it open for her. She stepped inside, and finally let out the breath she’d been holding since the asshole had elbowed Nick in the head.
Nick sat on an exam bed, wearing sweat pants and a Barons t-shirt. There was a cut on his forehead that had been bandaged already, and a smear of blood near his temple.
She made a squeaking noise and raced forward. He looked up. His gaze still held a touch of glassiness, but he wasn’t out of it completely. She wanted to fling herself into his arms, squeeze him tight, never let him go.
But she stopped just in front of him, afraid of his reaction.
“Hey.” Her voice sounded thick in the quiet room. Way to be suave and witty, Alex. Good job.
“What are you doing here?” He wrapped his hands around the front of the exam bed. It looked like he was holding onto it pretty bloody tight.
“I came to see the game. I mean, the team. And to see you.”
“Why?”
She didn’t like the way he kept his voice level, almost robotic. It made all of her muscles tighten, dread and disappointment sitting like weights in the pit of her stomach. She was too late. Had waited too long to tell him.
“Nicky, the ambulance is ready.” The medic from the ice walked through the door, but stopped when he saw her.
She gave him a small smile. Even that took all her energy.
“I’ll just be a minute.” Nick pushed to his feet and nodded at the guy. The guy nodded back and slipped back out the door.
Nick moved toward her. She swallowed and tilted her head to look up at him. Her fingers tingled, needing to touch him. She curled them into her palms.
“It’s over, Alex.” His voice was low, the words pained.
Her heart tumbled out of her throat and onto the floor. She was surprised there hadn’t been an audible splat when it hit the ground. Two little words, and yet they gutted her.
“What?” There was a tremor in her voice she couldn’t help.
“My career. It’s over.” There was a rawness to his voice, a sadness in his eyes, that made her entire body ache.
A small, secret part of her was relieved he wasn’t talking about them, about their relationship, but she ignored it. He was clearly in pain and his pain was so much more important than her fear.
She knew she shouldn’t touch him, but she couldn’t help herself. She lifted her hand, cupped his cheek. “Don’t say that. You don’t know that.”
He closed his eyes, leaned into the touch. His skin was hot and made her palm tingle.
And then he opened his eyes and stepped back, out of her reach. A sob rolled up her throat, but she swallowed it down.
“I lost consciousness, Alex. As a precaution, they’re going to do a CT scan, but with my concussion history…” He blew out a breath and looked down, rubbing the back of his neck.
She closed her eyes for a second, understanding coiling through her. Depending on how bad it was, he’d be out of the lineup for at least the rest of the season. But she knew it was worse than that.