Please be okay, I inwardly beg.
“Do you know where to go?” Alex asks, concern written across his face.
I shake my head, unable to speak.
“Let me take you.”
Chapter Sixteen
Elliot
Stenberg crashes into me with such speed, I’m unable to react quickly enough. I fall into the net, and the back of my head bounces off the ice. But it’s not my head that hurts. It’s the pain blooming from my knee where it’s caught underneath Stenberg at a strange angle that has me gritting my teeth. Next thing I know, he’s being pulled off me, and gloves are being thrown onto the ice as fists start flying.
But I stay where I am, lying on my back, staring up at the roof of the arena, trying to find the strength to move my leg.
Fuck, please don’t be a tear or a break. It could put me out for the rest of the season.
Zach crouches down next to me, shielding me from the fights breaking out around us.
I have a weird sense of déjà vu from when the roles were reversed a year ago. He was the one lying on the ice after he took a big hit against the boards and was knocked unconscious notfar from where we are. And I was the one crouching over him, begging for him to be okay.
Sometimes I can still picture how lifeless he looked. It scared me a lot.
Slowly, I manage to straighten my leg, but not without letting out another strained groan.
“Holy shit, that hurts.”
“Hey, bud, are you okay?” Zach asks. His icy blue eyes are full of worry. I always tell him they don’t look real because they’re like crystals. “Jackson’s bringing Greg over.”
“My knee,” I murmur. “I think I’ve pulled something. Or maybe twisted it. I dunno.”
Greg appears a moment later on my other side. He flashes his pen light into my eyes in a sequence I know is for concussion protocol. I guess he saw my head bounce too.
“I’m fine,” I grumble, wincing at the bright light. Once he’s done, I blink rapidly, trying to clear the black dots spotting my vision.
“Where does it hurt?” he asks.
“It’s my knee. I think I twisted it or something.” I motion to my left leg with my glove.
“Did you feel a snap?”
“Yeah. Well, kinda. It was more like a pop.”
He’s silent for a moment, eyes assessing my leg, even though it’s hidden by my pads.
“Will you help me get him up? We need to keep as much weight off that leg as possible,” he says to Zach.
The crowd begins to applaud when I sit upright, and I suck in a deep breath before rolling onto my side. With Zach and Greg taking some of my weight, I manage to use my other leg to push myself up onto my skate, grimacing from the sharp pain. It feels like my knee is pulsating.
Keeping my injured knee bent slightly, they guide me over to the bench, where Erik, another one of the training staff, is waiting to help take over from Zach. My teammates tap their sticks against the boards in support before I hobble down the tunnel, wincing and cursing as the pain becomes more intense.
They lead me into the training room and help me onto one of the treatment tables. Greg begins to remove my pads and skates while I hand over my helmet, blocker, and glove to Erik, then pull off my jersey and all my upper-body protection. Once I unclip my pants from my belt, we remove them too, leaving me in only my base layers.
I lie back against the table as Greg elevates my leg, and I cover my face with my arms. I can’t believe I got fucking hurt. Two weeks before the All-Star break too. How am I supposed to have all the sex with Hunter with a fucked-up knee?
“Have you got any of the good stuff?” I ask Greg, referring to the good pain relief he keeps in his medical bag.
He chuckles. “You know I do, but we need to go through the concussion protocol once more before you take anything. Then we need to take your pants off so we can take a look at that knee.”
