“What?” She shrugs. “Hockey players are hot,” she says with a wink.
I shake my head but turn back to the ice as the refs move in to break up the fight.
The Thunderhawk who shoved our guy skates off toward the penalty box.
Ryan skates over to Cole, patting him on the back, talking to him. But he doesn’t see the Thunderhawk player coming up behind him. My eyes widen as the player closes in, his body shifting with brutal speed. Before I can even shout, the guy’s shoulder drives into Ryan’s with bone-crushing force, sending him hurtling into the boards.
The sickening crack echoes through the arena, and I feel my stomach drop as Ryan’s body jerks violently, crumpling to the ice.
The noise of the crowd vanishes, when he doesn’t move. My stomach knots so tight it hurts.
The trainer rushes onto the ice, dropping to his knees beside Ryan, checking him over.
Ryan is still on the ice.
Still not moving.
And I can’t look away.
“Is he okay?” Aurora’s voice barely reaches me, almost drowned out by the pounding in my ears.
I grip the seat in front of me, my fingers shaking uncontrollably. I don’t have an answer.I don’t know. “He has to be okay. He has to be,” I whisper.
Aurora’s hand suddenly clasps mine, her fingers firm, grounding me. I don’t even realize how badly I’m trembling until I feel her warmth, steadying me.
And then, just as my chest feels like it might explode, I see it. Ryan shifts, a small movement at first, and then he’s on one knee. Slowly. Wobbling. But he’s moving.
My shoulders drop in relief as he stands up, shaky. The knot in my stomach loosens a little as the crowd clap.
Aurora releases a long, shaky breath beside me. “He’s okay… he’s okay,” she whispers, squeezing my hand.
I nod, though I can hardly breathe, my eyes glued to Ryan as he makes his way off the ice. His steps are slow, every one of them showing how badly he’s been hit. He lifts a hand, a weak thumbs-up for the crowd, but it does nothing to reassure me.
The buzzer blares, signaling the end of the game and the opposing team erupts in cheers.
The other team won.
14
RYAN
The final buzzer rings, and my stomach sinks.
Loss.
Again.
I rip my helmet off a little too fast, wincing as a sharp pain shoots through my shoulder. My ribs feel like they’re on fire, each breath a reminder of the hits I’ve taken. My knee’s throbbing, and there’s this pounding pressure behind my eye, like I can still feel the boards slamming into my head. But none of that compares to the frustration eating at me.
We should’ve won this.
We had it. The plays, the setups… We were on the verge, and I blew it.
The locker room is dead silent. Not the quiet that comes after a hard-fought win, where everyone’s too wiped to talk, but the kind that makes your shoulders sag, and your fists clench, and your mind race with all the shit you wish you could’ve done differently.
Skates scrape across the floor, too loud and too sharp. Sticks hit the walls, thrown down with way more force than they should be. Water bottles get crushed between clenched fists, thecrinkling sound cutting through the silence. No one’s saying a word. No one’s even looking at each other. We’re all too pissed, too embarrassed to make eye contact.
Nathan breaks the silence first, his voice attempting to sound reassuring. “Alright, I think we can all agree it was a tough game, but it was just one game,” he says, yanking his jersey over his head. “We shake it off, come back stronger.”
