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“Ok, ok, come on, you,” I cut her off with a laugh. I grab my bag and turn off the light. “Let’s go grab Bobby and head down to the game.” I lace my arm through hers and as we walk down the hallway, I lean in and say in a low voice, “But, uh, explain exactly what you mean bygiant...”
The game is going great. We’re up by one and Connor has been a rockstar in the net. All the guys have been absolutely ruthless and I think I’ve seen more fights break out in this one game than I have in all the others combined. I’m in my customary spot right by the glass, my voice nearly hoarse from all my screaming and cheering. I smother a smile as Rizzo skates by, catching Nat’s gaze. She holds it, even bites her lip, and I elbow her in the ribs.
“Shit, I was doing it again, wasn’t I?”
“Yup,” I say with a laugh. A nasty hit causes yet another fight and I wince as I turn to Bobby. “Ok, so am I just imagining it, or is tonight's game a bit more, uh, volatile than usual?"
"Definitely not your imagination,” Bobby confirms. “So, Rizzo and Connor both used to play for the Kodiaks, and they left at the same time to come here. I guess some of the guys still hold a grudge about it—which is so stupid, but whatever—and every time they play, it’s a freaking gongshow.” I’d learned thatgongshowusually meant a game that just gets plain old rowdy: fights, penalties, shit-talking. Usually lots of goals, too, and so far that’s all tracking for tonight. Connor is doing fantastic, but the Kodiaks are relentless and really freaking good. We’re still up by four, but it’s a crazy game so far.
“Two years ago,” Bobby continues, “there was a huge brawl, like a clear the benches, everyone on the ice throwing punches kind of brawl. It was crazy."
Nat finally yanks her gaze away from Rizzo and I smile into my beer. “Ooh yeah, I remember watching that one with my ex! It was brutal.”
"Dang, that’s nuts.”
"Yeah, this particular game is alwaysverybloody."
He ain't lyin’. I don’t think I’ve ever seen so many players having to leave the ice to get bandaged up. I catch Connor’s eye during a timeout and he winks, despite the intensity of the game. Since the snow storm, things with us have been…different. Well, actually, things withushave been completely normal—we’ve joked around and gotten coffee and bingedCriminal Mindslike always. It’s the way I’m thinking about him in my head that’s been different, the way I can barely keep my hands to myself, the way I can’t go two seconds without thinking about him in a way that is very not-friendly. Or extremelyoverly-friendly, depending on how you look at it, I guess. I think about that near-kiss way too often and ninety-nine percent of the time, I regret stopping myself. I mean, I know it was the right call, but to actually know what it feels like to kiss Connor? To know what his lips feel like, what he tastes like? I almost groan just thinking about it.
And it isn’t just the physical. I…damn it, I have feelings for Connor. I don’t know the depth of them yet, and I’m not sure that it’s enough to risk our friendship, but I can’t deny that they’re there. I have no idea what to do about them, or if there evenisanything to do about them, so I’ve decided to do the mature thing, and just ignore them.
Nat and I are quite the damn pair when it comes to pretending we don’t want the men we want.Lord help us.
The game resumes and I try to stop thinking about anything not hockey-related. We almost score again, another fight breaks out, and a few guys land themselves in the penalty box. Lather. Rinse. Repeat. I roll my eyes after what seems like the twentieth fight of the period.
“And they say that women are dramatic?” Bobby laughs into his beer and Nat goes on a nacho run. “Oh, and cotton candy!” I call after her as she jogs up the steps.
The crowd boos over a bullshit call, and two of the Kodiaks make a break towards our goal, Jules and Roman hot on their heels. I hold my breath as they near the goal, watching as Connor prepares for the shot, waiting with that quiet, intense stillness he has.
But then someone goes down. I can’t even really tell what starts it, can’t tell if it’s a red jersey or a black one that hits the ice first, but somehow there’s suddenly a pile of bodies careening towards Connor. I tense as they collide, nothing on earth able to stop them or even slow their attack. The sound of the collision echoes through the space, seems to vibrate down into my bones. The entire goal shoots backwards, slamming into the wall behind it with a loud crack. Bodies tumble, limbs sprawl, and a helmet flies across the ice.
My heart seems to stop in my chest as my entire body goes cold.
The helmet is Connor’s and he’s not moving.
Chapter Twelve
Hattie
Connor is lying there on the ice, not moving, and I can’t breathe. Why isn’t he moving?No, no, no. He’s ok, just a little stunned. He’s ok. He has to be ok.
I’m on my feet, hands pressed against the glass as if I can reach through it and get to him. The entire arena falls into a stoic, almost eerie silence as twenty-thousand people seem to hold their collective breath, but my heartbeat and blood pound so loudly in my ears, I almost wince.
Medics make their way out onto the ice, and everything suddenly feels like a dream. This can’t be happening. This can’t be real. I stare wide-eyed, completely immobile as they check him over.
He still isn’t moving.
Why the fuck isn’t he moving yet??
"Hattie?" Bobby lays a hand on my arm.
I try to swallow but can’t. My stomach twists painfully, my body feeling weirdly numb, too hot, and too cold all at once. How is that possible? Someone brings out one of those boards, like at a football game, and everything seems to freeze, suspended in a horrible, terrifying moment in time: they use those boards when someone might have a spinal injury.
And then I’m pulling away from Bobby’s touch and sprinting up the stairs, barely able to even see. He calls out behind me, but I don't stop. I run and run, my thighs burning as I make my way to the top. I trip once, going down hard, cranking my knee against the edge of a step and biting my lip. I taste blood, but I don’t care. I pull myself up, ignoring the concerned fans who offer me helping hands, and burst into the main concourse of the arena, nearly stumbling and barely righting myself at the last second before I bite the dust. I mumble apologies to people along the way that I bump into, but I don’t slow down. I sprint around to the other side but there are too many damn people. I think I scream at them to get out of my way, but I can’t be sure. Nothing seems real. I don’t feel like I’m in control of my body, like I’m outside of it somehow. Why are there so many people? I need them to move, I need a clear path. I need to get to Connor.Connor, Connor, Connor.His name thunders through my mind over and over, like the beat of my heart.He has to be ok.
I finally see the door that leads down to the lower levels. A security guard is always posted out here during games, and when Luis sees me, he immediately opens the door with his access card. I fly down the stairs and around the corner towards the training room, cursing December up and down as I go. This can’t be happening. December has always been bad, but this is just too much. It can’t do this to him because of me.I’mthe one who’s supposed to suffer for whatever reason, not anyone else.Not him.
God, please let him be ok. Please, please, please.
