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Shit. Concentrate on the stupid game.
I watch the guys moving up and down the ice as fast as lightning. From what I can tell, which is not much, the Denver Thunder looks as though they're much stronger than the other team.
They’re only ten minutes in and have had possession of the puck for the majority of the game, have already scored a goal and have come very close to scoring another while maybe a few too many of the opposition have been body slammed into the boards… so, I don’t envy their therapist right now.
My phone starts ringing in my pocket and I quickly pull it out to check who's calling. Shit. It's the rehab facility. They only ever call in an emergency. I quickly duck out of the box and into the hallway. It's still way too freaking loud but it will have to do.
“Hello?” I practically yell into the phone while using my other hand to try and block out some of the noise.
"Elle, it's Dr. Ellis here," he says. "Look, I uh… don't know where to start but ah, do you happen to be with your brother?"
“Um… what?” I ask in complete confusion.
“He isn’t in his room, so we were wondering if you took him out for the day?” he questions.
“No,” I grunt. “You’ve lost my brother?”
I hear the cringe in his voice. “Well… yes, it appears that way,” he tells me regretfully.
My anxiety instantly spikes and I promptly begin freaking out. "He isn't in the bathroom? You know sometimes he takes a while in there."
Shit. This is not a good time for that little dim wit to go missing.
"No, we've checked the whole facility. We thought we'd check with you before we started looking into the surveillance and get the authorities involved."
“Crap. Ok. Let me give him a call and see if I can find him.”
“Sure, let us know how you go,” he says before hanging up.
I instantly bring up my brother’s number and impatiently wait as the phone rings out. “Answer your phone, you little turd,” I say to his voicemail before calling again.
He picks up the call and a very small part of me relaxes. “Hey, sis. What’s going on?” he asks in a way too cheery tone.
“Where the hell are you?” I ask, skipping straight past the pleasantries.
“I’m closer than you think,” he says, making me want to strangle him.
“Brendan. I’m not in the mood for playing games. Where the hell are you?” I demand.
“Jesus, woman. Calm down. I’m at the game,” he laughs. “Your boyfriend is pretty good by the way.”
“What?” I yell before running out of the hallway and back into the stadium. My eyes instantly lift to the V.I.P section to find my brother grinning down at me with a goofy-as-fuck expression on his face. “You little turd. How the hell did you get here?”
“Logan broke me out. Take it up with him,” he says before grinning at me again and making a dramatic show of hanging up the call.
God, that little twat.
I duck back into the hallway and press redial on Dr. Ellis’ number.
“Elle, tell me you’ve got some good news for me,” he says.
“Yes, I’ve found him,” I sigh. “I’ll have him back in a few hours.”
“Good. We’ll see you soon.”
“Thanks,” I say before hanging up the call.
I pocket my phone and walk back out to my position in the player's box with the biggest scowl on my face. I want nothing more than to get on that ice and drag Logan right off by his ear but that probably isn't the best idea right now, so his scolding is going to have to wait until the end of the game.
I cross my arms over my chest and somehow manage to keep my eyes on the game. I watch as Logan darts up and down the ice and absolutely dominates it. Watching him turns the flames within me into tiny little puddles of joy which only manages to piss me off more. God, why does this man have to have such an effect on me? It's driving me insane.
I look up at Brendan and see nothing but excitement on his dorky little face as his eyes struggle to keep up with the fast-paced game and I realise he is completely in his element. This is where he wants to be and I know deep down it’s killing him that he can’t be on that ice right now. Probably doesn’t help that I’m flaunting Logan around, it’s most likely a constant reminder of what he can’t have.
But I know, one day he’s going to be back up on his feet and he will get back on the ice and be able to skate. It will be over my dead body that I will ever let him play a risky game like hockey ever again but at least he’ll be able to feel the ice under his blades again.
