Page 28 of Omega’s Forward

9. Brody

We win. The horn goes while I’m in the medical room getting my eyebrow glued shut for the fourth time this year.

“Hold still,” the team doctor says.

I just grunt. I am. Or at least, I am trying to. This is going to go badly. Not the glueing. The doc has patched me up enough times that I am confident he knows his stuff.

I shouldn’t have hit Dorn so hard. Or so often. I took it so far. The asshole deserved it, but that doesn’t mean it was a great idea.

I couldn’t help it. I just saw red.

Rourke is right about one thing. It can be a brutal game and if I am honest with myself, that particular moment, when I had Dorn under my body and I was just thumping right into his stupid face—

That wasn’t about protection or anything other than me having enough of the guy and wanting to put him down.

Above us, the building is thumping as people start to head home happy.

I know they’ll be talking about Linus and about me, but I can’t help but wonder how many of them are worrying about how Linus is doing right now.

The doctor presses a strip along my eyebrow and holds it. His thumb smells like latex, and under that the whole room smells of old sweat. It’s a stink I’ve been breathing since I was eight years old.

“Put ice on the hand,” he says.

“Sure, doc.”

He grunts.

I jump off the bed, feeling my body complain as I hit the floor. I’m thirty-three, not old in ordinary years but I’m practically a great-grandfather when it comes to hockey. I don’t like to think about how much longer I have to play.

It’s going to be forever. Anything else? Well, what else do I have in my life? Absolutely nothing.

Unbidden, my thoughts turn to Rourke. Sweet-smelling, infuriating Rourke and my tired body immediately perks up and betrays me.

He doesn’t want me. He’s made that clear.

And he’s right. We have chemistry, I’m not denying that. The Bureau’s blood work got the fundamentals right, but that doesn’t mean we’re compatible in any other way.

Great chemistry and nothing else is just grounds for a future divorce. Best not start something that is only going to end badly.

I creak my way toward the room and the rest of the team, going the back way so I don’t have to run into anyone who wants a high five or an autograph.

I am not in the mood.

When I enter, I find the room quiet, for a win. Nobody has put music on. No one is whooping or even chatting. JP spots me immediately. He crosses the room and claps me on the back.

Marchetti shakes my hand.

“News?” I say, to anyone.

“He woke up in the ambulance,” Lewis says from over on the bench. He has his phone in his hand, and relief floods my chest.

“He’s talking,” Lewis continues. “He asked if we scored on the power play.”

Something in my chest lets go even further. He’s okay. Linus is okay. “Did we?”

“No.”

“Hope you didn’t tell him that.”