Page 53 of Goalie interference

Oh no.

My body felt ten times heavier, and the sound of the ref’s whistle stopping play felt worse than any broken bone I'd ever had.

The guys were all peeled off me and backed away so a trainer could get to me, saying a lot of sounds that all just hurt my ears, and he kept touching me–I didn’t like any of it.

My throat was burning with a lump in it–my eyes were squinted shut to stop the pain, but also to stop from crying in front of all these guys. I’d never felt like I was going to cry from an injury, even the first time I got a concussion.

But I was kind of a crybaby these days.

The trainer helped me to my feet, but that was really just the beginning. He–with the help of Carp–took me over to the bench and sat me down to run cognitive tests that I already knew I’d fail spectacularly.

“Ashton, can you tell me what today is?” The trainer asked first, the most basic of cognitive questions they could ask.

My mouth stuttered like it wanted to answer, but my brain sure didn’t have one for him. I already knew I failed when I couldn’t answer in under five seconds, but my stomach was turning, and everyone was moving too fast around me.

“I don’t know,” I finally mumbled.

“He’s out,” the trainer huffed, signalling to Reed and Thayer to send someone else out.

Everyone started moving again, back to playing, helping me to the tunnel, but one very warm and big hand landed on the back of my head. It was gentle and just to get my attention, as it was gone the second Thayer was in front of me.

One little flash of his worried face and I buckled.

All those tears I was holding back came out in a coughed cry, only being interrupted by Thayer shushing me quickly and guiding me down the tunnel with his hand on the side of my neck.

They led me to a room that was way too bright, helping me out of all my gear before laying me on an exam bed that was way too cold and hard and too wrong. It felt like my whole body hurt, and every time one of the trainers tried to touch me or examine me, I’d just flinch and cry a little more.

I just wanted Thayer–why wasn’t he here?

Wasn’t he just here?

I just saw him…

Right?

Chapter 26

Thayer

Professionally, I needed to stay out there for Tommy. I needed to be at the player bench and be there for him if he needed something.

But…I needed to be with Ash.

It didn’t matter if I was there for the kid in the net–Ash was hurt, and I needed to be there for him.

I stayed long enough for play to start again before brushing past Reed and down to the tunnel, ignoring his call of my name. I should have been there for Ash when he first got off that ice and started crying, but that would have meant breaking our deal.

Fuck–I still should have done it.

He was probably so scared and sad.

Finding two of the three trainers I left him with outside the door was not a comforting sight. They were supposed to be in there and assessing him–making sure nothing else was hurt, so why the hell were they out here just talking?

“What’s wrong?” I asked harshly, surprising both of them enough to give me their full attention. “Why aren’t you assessing him–that’s your job?”

“He won't let us,” one of them answered, shrugging like that was just a perfectly fine answer. “He’s showing clear concussion symptoms–we’re sending him to the hospital.”

My stomach dropped, twisting the longer they spoke so casually about Ash being in pain.