The door opens, and two paramedics wheel in a stretcher.
“Mr. Ward? We're going to transport you to Mount Sinai. The team doctor has already called ahead. They're expecting you.”
I nod, unable to speak past the tightness in my throat.
They help me onto the stretcher, strapping me down carefully. My knee screams with every small movement, but I grit my teeth and don't make a sound.
The Wall doesn't show pain. The Wall doesn't show anything.
They wheel me out of the medical room, down the corridor that leads toward the arena exit. The celebration is louder out here, echoing through the hallways.
We turn a corner, and suddenly there are people. Team officials, family members, girlfriends, and wives who've been allowed into the back areas for the celebration.
“Ethan.” Cole appears, Harper beside him. They both look concerned, their celebration faces replaced with worry when they see me on the stretcher.
“Congrats, Cap,” I manage. “Hell of a game.”
He rests a hand on my good shoulder. “Forget the game. How bad is it?”
My stomach twists. “Don’t know yet. Headed to the hospital for imaging.”
Harper squeezes Cole's hand, then steps forward. “We'll come visit tomorrow. As soon as they let us.”
I nod, not trusting my voice.
There's a woman standing behind Harper. Even in my pain, I notice that she’s stunning, with dark hair pulled back in an elegant twist, wearing a skirt suit that looks wildly out of place among the jerseys and casual clothes everyone else is wearing.
The skirt hits just above her knee. Sexy in a way that makes my brain short-circuit despite the pain.
Who wears a skirt suit to a hockey game?
She catches me staring.
“This is my cousin, Natalie,” Harper says, following my gaze. “Natalie, this is Ethan Ward.”
“Nice to meet you,” Natalie says. “Congratulations on the Cup. Sorry about the injury.”
I grunt something that might be an acknowledgment, still trying to figure out why someone would dress like they're going to a board meeting for the Stanley Cup Finals.
The paramedics are getting restless, ready to move. But then Liam appears, Avery tucked under his arm. She's wearing his jersey, and they look disgustingly happy together.
“Ethan, man.” Liam's usual cocky grin is replaced with concern. “That hit was brutal. You okay?”
“Been better.”
Looking at them and the way they're all paired off and happy and whole makes something twist in my chest that has nothing to do with my injuries.
Everyone has someone.
Cole has Harper, and even Nova has Avery. The woman who somehow tamed the untamable Nova. Even Jake probably has someone waiting for him in the celebration, some woman I haven't met yet.
And me?
I'm on a stretcher, being wheeled away from the biggest moment of my career because my body betrayed me at the worst possible time.
“We need to go,” one of the paramedics says gently. “The ambulance is waiting.”
They start moving again, and I watch my teammates and their people fade into the distance. The sounds of celebration grow fainter with each turn of the wheels.
