“The kind where I don’t have to watch every move,” Ryder snaps back.
“The kind where you can destroy your shoulder without witnesses?” Carter’s voice is sharp. “How bad is it?”
“It’s fine.”
“Stop saying that.” Carter crouches down in front of Ryder. “Let me see.”
Ryder reluctantly shrugs off his jacket, and I watch Carter’s face go pale as he sees Ryder’s shoulder. I can’t see it from my angle, but Carter’s reaction tells me everything.
“Jesus Christ, Ryder. This isn’t ‘fine.’ This is—” He stops, visibly controlling his anger. “We’re taking you to the ER.”
“No.”
“That wasn’t a suggestion.”
“Carter, if I go to the ER, it gets documented. If it gets documented?—”
“Then it gets documented. Better than permanent damage.”
“You don’t understand the pressure?—”
“I understand that you’re about to fuck up your entire career because you’re too stubborn to admit you need help.” Carter stands. “Maya, help me get him to my car.”
Together, we manage to get Ryder standing again, then walking, then somehow folded into Carter’s passenger seat. He’sarguing the entire time, but his words are getting more slurred, and I’m increasingly worried about the concussion.
“I’m coming with you,” I say.
Carter looks surprised. “You don’t have to?—”
“I’m coming.”
I climb into the back seat before he can argue, and we drive to the nearest emergency room in tense silence.
The ER is quiet at midnight on a Tuesday. Carter checks Ryder in—“hockey injury, possible concussion, shoulder damage”—and we’re ushered to a curtained area to wait.
Ryder sits on the examination table, looking miserable and defeated. Carter paces. I sit in the corner, trying not to think about the last time I was in an emergency room.
“You should call someone,” Carter says to Ryder. “Your family. Coach.”
“Absolutely not.”
“Ryder—”
“My father will make this worse. My brother will say I told you so. And Coach…” He trails off. “Coach will bench me for the season.”
“Maybe you need to be benched,” I say quietly.
Both of them look at me.
“Maybe,” I continue, “constantly destroying yourself trying to live up to impossible expectations isn’t actually strength. Maybe it’s just… giving up in a different way.”
Ryder stares at me like I’ve slapped him.
“Maya—” Carter starts.
“No. He knows I’m right. He’s just too scared to admit it.” I stand, suddenly exhausted. “I’ll be in the waiting room.”
I leave before either of them can respond, before I have to see the truth of my words reflected in Ryder’s face.
