“FUCK. FUUCCCKKK!” I smashed my stick against the floor, smashing and smashing until it snapped, then smashed what was left in my hand.
“FUCK.”
I slumped against the lockers, my chest heaving from the rage hurtling through my body, tightening with every breath I took.
My veins were flowing molten lava.
Felix’s face flashed before me. His leg was broken, of that much I was certain.
This was bad.
Like real fucking bad.
Career ending bad.
At the very least he would be out for months, probably the rest of the season, and we’d only just started.
My nose stuffed up and I realized I was crying, so I wiped my tears away with the heel of my palm before succumbing to full blown, wracking sobs.
I picked up a discarded shirt and blew my nose.
Dave, one of our longstanding locker room attendants walked in and surveyed the destruction I’d left in my wake, collecting the broken remnants of my stick.
He was used to tantrums, but still it was fucking embarrassing being caught in the middle of one.
“I’m sorry, Dave,” I mumbled.
He took one look at me, at my face.
“Don’t worry, I got this. You get in the shower.”
I didn’t want to have a shower but I didn’t argue, stripping off what was left of my clothes and grabbing a towel.
Five minutes later I pulled on my sweatpants and a hoodie, grabbing the rest of my stuff - including my phone.
Emerson: Hi, baby, I’ll call you when I get out of the class. Have a great game. I love you xxx
My throat constricted again. In desperation to see her, to hold her, to feel her warmth and comfort, I dialed her number, but it rang through to voicemail.
Fuck.
“Hi, baby,” my voice broke. “Felix had an accident and I need to go find him. I’ll call you when I do, but go home. Don’t come to the Garden. I love you, I’ll see you later.”
The game would be ending soon and I wanted to get out of here before it did. I needed to find out which hospital they’d taken Felix to. I pushed open the locker room doors and walked down the empty corridor, looking for information.
The entrance to the visitor’s room swung out as I passed.
“Off to find your boyfriend? Probably ought to try the nearest hospital,” drawled a voice.
I stopped in my tracks, my blood boiling, and slowly turned around. “What the fuck did you say?”
Devon leaned against the wall, way too cocky for someone whose face was already bruised and swollen. “You heard.”
Oh, you are fucking dead, sunshine.
“No, what I heard was you asking for me to finish what I started.”
His lip turned up in a sneer. “Go fuck yourself, Crawley.”
