“I’m never mushy.” The words barely come out around the lump in my throat. For years all I wanted was for Wyatt to have a father, for someone to love me in spite of the fact I was a single mom.
Now that I have what I yearned for, it’s hard to believe it’s going to last.
Fear is a fucker.
We’re playing the Cincinnati Vipers. If I didn’t already know that, all I’d have to do is look at Penelope’s boobs. She’s wearing the away team’s shirt once again. I can’t help but laugh.
From the opening puck drop, the Vipers are, I don’t know what the technical term is, but they’re assholes. It’s a much more physical game than I’m used to. So, naturally, my heart’s lodged firmly in my throat.
Raffi’s concentration is clear. He’s fully focused on the game. As he chases the puck, a Viper collides with him.
My stomach lurches as his head cracks against the boards and he crumples onto the ice.
Time stops.
An audible gasp ripples around the crowd.
Someone shouts a really loud “fuck.”
No one breathes, or moves, or speaks as he lies motionless on the ice.
Eloise’s hand slides into mine, squeezing in quiet comfort.There’s a blur of movement on the ice as Ares leaves his crease and zips across the rink to where emergency services are already surrounding Raffi’s motionless body.
People in the seats around us whisper in concern. In my periphery, spectators stare at their phones and chatter grows louder by the second but I can’t pull my eyes off the father of my child.
To my left, Penelope has turned Wyatt to face her, she’s bouncing him on her lap and blowing raspberries on his neck so he doesn’t see the commotion on the ice.
It’s only when Eloise stands up to put her arm around me I realize I’ve made my way to my feet.
When they bring the stretcher out, my knees buckle, blood chilling in my veins. Eloise holds me, not letting me fall. Or bolt onto the ice. I’m not sure.
When they load him onto the stretcher, my heart shreds into tiny pieces. I can’t lose him again.
I can’t lose him again. My whole body shakes uncontrollably as both teams on the ice stand watching with the rest of us.
When they push him toward the tunnel, tears stream down my face.
What’s the protocol for player injuries? Do they call his parents? Will he need to be taken to the hospital? Should I try to find my way “backstage”? Is that allowed? Should I call mom to come take Wyatt?
She’s working. Her phone will be off. There’s no way she can come for him.
Apollo skates across the ice toward me. His mouth moves, but no sound meets my ears. I try to nod. His sympathetic eyes do little to thaw the abject panic spreading throughout my body.
Eloise is patting my pants. When she pulls out my phone, she holds it up to my face and it unlocks. “Your mom?”
“She’s at work. I don’t know who can take him.”
Penelope offers, but she has no car seat, or toys, or anything vaguely child friendly in her house.
“Tori? Tori? Your phone is ringing. It’s an unknown number, should I answer it?”
My gaze shoots back to the place on the ice where Raffi was lying. The ice has been cleared, and the officials are all gathered in a huddle.
Eloise is talking to someone on my phone. “Tori?” Her voice is sharp, forcing me to look at her. “It’s Raffi’s mom. Can she maybe take Wyatt while I take you wherever you need to be? Would she be okay with you going to the hospital and not her?”
They have toys, they’ve even got a bed for him in the room that was formerly a home gym. It’s now an homage to everything Wyatt loves. Blippi, Number Blocks, and Paw Patrol.
They’re a safe space.
