“Jesus, Teddy…” Jensen breathes. “I’m so damn sorry.”
I drag a shaky hand down my face. “Don’t tell anyone else, okay? Not the guys. Not until the team makes another statement. I don’t want them picturing me as some broken thing before I even know what’s permanent.”
“Of course,” my captain answers firmly. “It stays between us. But listen—you’re still our guy. You’re still the heart of that locker room, even if you’re not on the ice right now. That doesn’t change.”
The words crack something in me, but I swallow it down. “Thanks.”
“No,thank you. You’ve carried this team more times than I can count. Now it’s our turn to carry you.”
The lump in my throat thickens. I turn my head toward the ceiling. “You know, I keep having these flashes of the hit. Not nightmares exactly, but I hear the sounds and feel the air knocked out of me over and over.”
“Your brain’s scrambling,” Jensen reminds me gently. “That’s trauma, man. It doesn’t follow logic.”
“I recall every second leading up to it and then...fuck, I don’t even know.”
“Do you want to hear how I remember it?”
The offer stuns me into silence. Until now, it hadn’t registered to me that Jensen was on the ice when Farrington hit me. He’d know exactly what happened. My gut twists, torn between needing the missing pieces and not wanting them yet. “Thanks for offering, but I want to remember it myself,” I croak out.
“That’s fair enough.”
“Let’s back up a bit…you said the GMs filed complaints?”
“It’s the biggest collective push I’ve ever seen,” Jensen explains. “Not just players speaking out, but also coaches and upper management including the GMs. The League’s been under fire for letting Farrington go unchecked. They’re finally being forced to act.”
I lean back, his words sinking into me like heavy stones. “Well, isn’t that lovely. A bit late, don’t you think?”
The bitterness in my voice is impossible to miss. Rage curdles in my chest. I can’t stop thinking about how different things could’ve been. How many warnings there were. How many games turned ugly because of Farrington and still, the League looked away. They let him run wild, game after game, until finally I was sprawled out on the ice, my sight ripped away. And now they decide to act when it no longer helps me. I want to laugh in disbelief, but it would come out closer to a snarl.
“You shouldn’t have been the sacrifice, but it’s about time.”
His words are meant to soothe, but they have the opposite effect. I don’t want to be anyone’s turning point or cautionary tale they whisper about. Instead, I want to be the guy kids point to in the stands when they beg their parents for skates at Christmas. But I’m starting to realize it’s too late for that.
“He’ll just go play dirty overseas and wreck some other league,” I mumble, hating the words coming out of my mouth.
“Doesn’t matter,” Jensen counters. “Everyone remembers what he did. That reputation will follow him forever.”
“It still doesn’t feel like justice.”
“It never does. Not fully.”
I nod slowly to myself. “You ever wonder how fast everything can fall apart?”
“Every damn day,” he admits. “That’s why you hold on to what matters. There are people in your corner, Teddy. When it does get better, even a little, you’ll look back and be glad you let us help carry the burden.”
A familiar sting burns behind my eyes. “Thanks, Jensen. I mean it.”
“You’re not alone,” he repeats.
“Thank fuck.”
He laughs quietly. “Look, I gotta run soon, but I wasn’t about to miss talking to you.”
“Appreciate it. Seriously.”
“Don’t forget who you are, alright?”
“What do you mean?” I ask, confused.
