Page 81 of Slap Shot
“Can you tell me your name? Where you are?”
“Hudson Hayes. In the middle of a shitty hockey game where we’re getting beat by people from fuckingFlorida.”
Lexi smiles and carefully takes off my helmet. “Grant’s going to be mad you said that.”
“What the hell happened?”
“A cheap shot by that dickbag Davidson.” She moves her hand to my chest and stays there while I take a couple of deep breaths. Bending over me, she pokes my back, and I hiss when she drums her fingers against my shoulder. “No bones are protruding. I don’t think it’s broken, but you’re looking at a bad bruise and probably riding the bench for a game or two. I want to get your gear off so I can take a better look and run you through some stretches. You’re done for the night.”
“What? I’m fine. I can?—”
“Say that without looking like you’re going to cry, and I’ll let you stay in,” she challenges, but I can’t. It hurts too damn bad, and I know she’s right. “Do you want me to get you a stretcher?”
“Absolutely fucking not.” I let my eyes close briefly. “Help me sit up, and I’ll be good to skate off on my own.” I use my left hand to push myself up. The crowd cheers, and I give them a small wave. I turn my neck, noticing gloves strewn across the ice. Sticks are everywhere, and an unattended helmet that isn’t mine sits right over the logo. None of my teammates are around me like they normally would be after an injury, and I can’t help but laugh. “Hell. Who started it?”
“Who do you think?” Lexi asks. “Maverick didn’t like the hit you took. No one did. Even Liam got involved. Pretty sure we’re going to finish the game with our fourth line because of penalties.”
“Was the hit that bad?”
“It was intentional. You had the puck, sure, but the douche made no effort to go for the puck. On a scale of one to ten, I’d say it was probably an eight.”
“Not sure there are guys out there who are more loyal than ours.” Taking a deep breath, I push myself onto my knees and slowly stand. “You’re going to put me through hell in the trainers’ room, aren’t you?”
“You bet your ass I am, Hayes. Icing. PEMF therapy. You’ll be fine in a few days after I’m finished with you.”
“We’re lucky to have you in DC, Lex. You’re the best of the best.”
She blushes and moves to my other side so she can loop her arm through my uninjured one. I make sure to skate slow so she doesn’t fall, and I wave at the crowd again.
“Hey.” Maverick pulls up to my side. “You okay, man?”
“Hurts like hell, but I’ll be all right.” I look at his split lip and the bruise already forming on his cheek. The front of his jersey is bright red from blood, and I laugh. “Christ, Mavvy. Areyouokay?”
“You should see the other guy.” His grin shows off dried blood on his teeth. “Fucked him up real good.”
“You didn’t have to do that.”
“’Course I fucking did.”
“Shitty play by the Hurricanes’ player.” Riley skates backward next to us. Even he lost his gloves, and I can’t remember the last time he was in a fight. “I hope the league suspends his ass.”
“Y’all close out this game,” I tell them. “Tomorrow will be better, and I’m going to be fine.”
“Such a selfless guy.” Maverick kisses my cheek, and I do my best to shove him away. “Take care of yourself, Huddy. I don’t like skating without you.”
The rest of the team gives me a pat on my unhurt shoulder as I move toward the tunnel. Our assistant head coach checks in with me, and when I make it off the ice, Lexi and I trudge to the athletic trainers’ room.
I strip out of my gear until I’m left in compression shorts and hop on the table. She takes me through a series of stretching exercises, tests my range of motion, and numbs the pain withan ice wrap. An hour after the rest of the boys leave, I’m glad to learn nothing is sprained or broken.
I’m just thoroughly beat up.
With a couple of over-the-counter pain killers in my system and my arm in a sling that makes driving home nearly impossible, I finally unlock the door to my condo. I groan when I bend down to take off my shoes. I rest my forehead against the wall and squeeze my hand into a fist, tired and in pain.
When I got banged up in high school games, my mom was there to help clean me up. She never coddled me, but she did wipe away the blood. She plugged in the heating pad and made me laugh. Seeing her made me feel better.
I regret all the times I tried to shrug her off when I was younger. When I tried to pull away and tell her I was fine. When I acted like I was big and tough and cool, because I really fucking wish she was here right now to take care of me.
I sigh and pull away from the wall. It takes me longer than usual to reach the kitchen, and when I do, I find Madeline there.
