And the team probably wouldn’t take it well, either. Rationally speaking, people graduate every year. People get injured. But this isn’t anyone else, it’s me, and it feels so far from rational that we aren’t even in the same time zone.
Victoria made a good point in bed the other day when I convinced her to just lie with me for a while. She said if it was any other player on the team who was in my shoes, I’d tell them—without a beat of hesitation—to listen to the doctors and do what they needed to do to stay safe.
But with me, I just keep pushing through because it’s what I should do.
She said “should” is a dangerous word, and she’s right. I’m just not sure how to get out from under its crippling pressure.
As I step into the showers post-game, I resolve to look into alternative options to finish out my degree without my scholarship. The guys might play in a rec league or something so I can still get my ice fix every now and then.
I don’t need to make a decision right now. But the fear in Victoria’s eyes as she watches me skate onto the ice would probably be the exact fear in Mom’s eyes if she knew the extent of the potential damage playing could do.
Victoria yelled at me for not telling my parents just how bad things are, too. She thinks that if they knew the risks they might not be so set on me making it to the National Hockey League. I mean, she makes a solid point, but I’m sure they’d be disappointed.
It’s hard to know for sure until I actually talk to them.
“You getting dressed or are you gonna sit and stare at the wall?” Water sluices down Tate’s bare chest, dripping onto the floor. “You okay?”
“Hm?Oh. Yeah. I’m good. Just tired.”
“Two points, good game.” He offers his fist for a bump. “Saw Tori out there. She coming around?”
“Nah, man. She’s firmly in team ‘it’s too fucking dangerous.’”
He nods before plonking next to me on the bench. “What do the doctors say?”
Dunno. They’d probably agree with Victoria if I’d been to see them every time I’ve had an “episode” but I didn’t want to get benched soooo…
“Oh, Raf. Please tell me you’ve been telling the doctors about your symptoms.”
My body’s on fire with shame even though I’m in nothing but a towel.
“Fuck. Man. Stop being a dumbass, and go talk to someone.” He pats my shoulder. “I’m not a snitch, but you really should trust the team doctors to know what’s best for you. If that’s not playing…” He shrugs. “Gotta do what you gotta do.”
That’s easy for him to say. He’s not the one who might have to hang up his skates from playing. Or worse, drop out of college.
“I know.” He nudges me. “It’s not a nice prospect. A life without hockey. Phew.” He whistles. “I can’t imagine it. But know what’s worse than a life without hockey?”
I look him dead in the eye. “What’s that?”
“A world without you.” He bumps my shoulder.
“That’s what Victoria says.”
“Your girl’s a smart one. Think about it. And go talk to a fucking doctor.” With that, he flashes his ass at me and gets his shit dry.
Victoria is waiting for me when I leave the rink. “Good game.”
It’s so sweet of her to be supportive when she probablywanted to puke for the entire game.
“Are they all going to be out for a while? Or are they going back to the hockey house?” She twists a curl around her finger, her face turning a shade of pink I fucking love on her. My girl’s horny. We haven’t done anything since before my migraine last weekend, and at the mere suggestion of getting some, my dick’s paying full attention.
“Why d’you ask, Firecracker? You want some quality time?”
She tilts her head, her eyes skimming the lines of my game night suit. “I want some quality orgasms.”
Fucking love that she doesn’t hesitate to state her mind. She knows what she needs, and if she doesn’t get it, she’ll go somewhere else. Which is hot as hell. A girl with a healthy sex drive is the most delicious thing in the whole world. I’ll meet her where she is, every damn day.
“You need a release, eh?”
