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I was about to tell him that I could walk and chew gum at the same time, except I heard a slap shot heading the wrong way, then a scream.
Olivia’s scream.
* * *
Liv
I didn’t seeit coming. One second I was skating beside Cody, correcting the alignment between his foot, ankle and knee, and the next second it felt like I was getting shot in the ass. Like for real shot. I barely had a chance to realize I’d been hit by a puck when I felt something else hit my skate.
It caught me off guard and my left skate shot forward, throwing all my weight off balance.
Instinctively, I tried to apply my non-existent toe pick, but that only made it worse. Now I was falling face first. I twisted, caught myself with my shoulder and slid into the boards.
I’d fallen on the ice since my accident. Hit a wet patch once and was skating too fast. My blades got gluey and I fell on my ass. It had been scary, but I’d been fine.
I’m fine. Fine.
It was my mantra. The thing that helped me to breathe through the panic. It wasn’t about the pain, although my ass and elbow did hurt. I got up on my knees but couldn’t seem to get to my feet. All I felt was my feet slipping out from under me.
“You hurt?”
I looked up. Dillon was like a freaking giant blocking out all of the light from the rafters above.
I turned away from him towards the boards because I didn’t want him to see my panic attack. This wasn’t pretty or cute or even remotely cool. It was terror and panic and tears leaking out of my eyes. I couldn’t catch my breath or get my heart rate to slow down. I settled my hand on my chest, felt my heartbeat fluttering beneath it, and focused on my breathing again.
In and out. In and out.
“Don’t you turn your back on me, I need to know if you’re hurt.”
He sounded mad. Why did he sound mad?
I’m fine. Fine.
Another second and my heart rate was out of my ears and my eyes weren’t leaking. One more deep breath and I looked up to see all the guys who had been on the ice, in a half circle around me.
Great. Just great. Not only was I embarrassed, I was publicly embarrassed.
Dillon crouched down in front of me, moving me so I was facing him, his face a stormy cloud of fury.
“What happened?” he barked at me.
A puck hit me in the ass, then in my skate. That had finally registered. As did the insistent throbbing in my right butt cheek.
“Stop yelling at me,” I mumbled, finally feeling in control of my body again. I reached out a hand to have someone, Dillon presumably, since he was the closest, pull me back on to my skates, but my gesture was ignored.
“Novek!” Dillon yelled.
“Wasn’t me,” Novek said, all innocent. “I think we all know I have better control of my pucks.”
“It was my fault, Captain,” Anderson said, a third line defensive player, standing next to Novek. “I was shooting a few at the net and a couple of pucks got away from me.”
Novek’s smile would suggest otherwise.
“Really? Seems kind of crazy…you know, for professional fucking hockey players. Rookie, help her up,” Dillon said and then he skated away.
Skated the fuck away.
Wow.
