Just then, Will gains possession of the puck and I jump out of my seat. He’s skating down the ice with a breakaway and I can already tell it's going to go in before he takes his shot on goal. The entire place erupts. I’m exceedingly happy when he doesn’t point his stick at me and instead locks eyes with me and winks.
He is so sexy right now. I don’t think I’ve ever truly appreciated how hot he looks in his full gear, skating on the ice. Because, damn. I’m suddenly imagining all sorts of fantasies that involve him wearing his full gear and me on my knees in front of him.
Will’s rotated out and Liam takes the ice. He too is playing his heart out, earning a minor penalty I honestly disagree with. North Dakota has a few players who’re playing especially dirty. They have an aggressive defense and seem to be overly riled up about the goal Will made.
One of their guys gets right in Liam’s face, screaming and I honestly think they’re about to fight before the ref has to physically intervene, sending them both to the penalty box again.
I’m grateful for a small break and reset at the end of the second period. North Dakota starts the third period with a dominating and aggressive play style, crowding the goal andtaking as many shots as possible. Taking the lead with two goals in under ten minutes.
Carter and Will are on the ice now, and that anxiety starts churning in my stomach again. I don't want Carter to antagonize Will. But he doesn’t. They’re playing like they can read each other's minds, it's kind of wild.
Carter passes the puck to Will who then immediately lines up a shot on goal. I’m out of my seat again, jumping up and down, cheering as loud as I can for him.
And then he’s in the air. His entire body spinning like a saucer, leg in the air at an unnatural angle before he hits the ice face first and slides into the wall. He doesn’t immediately get up. He’s just laying there unmoving, left leg twisted in a way that looks wrong. Carter punches the player that illegally body checked Will from behind and before I can even process what’s happening, there is a literal brawl between every single player currently on the ice.
I’m almost certain the player who hit him kneed him from behind. He came at him from the left too–he’s still face down on the ice not moving. The game pauses while medics rush the ice to assess Will while refs physically pull players off each other. I might throw up. They’re bringing out a stretcher.
Miranda grabs my hand and squeezes it as we both stand here, paralyzed, unable to do anything other than watch him be loaded onto a yellow stretcher and pushed out.
I don’t realize I’m crying until I keep having to blink away fat tears so I can see where the hell I’m going as I run toward the locker rooms. I know he’s back there being evaluated.
No one will fucking talk to me! I nearly elbow whoever just put their hand on my shoulder before I realize it's Miranda. “Okay, so my dad said they’re taking him to the ER via ambulance. The team doctor says it looks like it might be a true knee dislocation but can’t confirm without some imaging. Myparents are going to meet us there, but they’re home, obviously, so it’ll be two hours before they’re here. We should go now, so we can be there.”
I nod, wiping at both my cheeks and my nose, “Okay, yeah,” I take in a full breath, “okay, let’s go. I’ll drive.”
Chapter Twenty-Six
Will
My entire body hurts radiating from my left knee like I’ve never felt before, and the noise happening right now is pissing me off. I know I was injured during the game, but I’d really like it if everyone would just stop asking me questions. I can’t fucking think right now.
“Hi, William, I’m Dr. Martinez, I’m the orthopedic surgeon here. Can you rate your pain on a scale from one to ten for me?”
“Twelve!”
“Alright, William, we’re going to give you some Fentanyl. Have you ever had Fentanyl before?”
“No.”
“This should help some with the pain. It might not take it all away, but should be more manageable, ‘kay, buddy?”
Three seconds later it feels like someone threw a brick at my head and I’m more fucked up than I know how to deal with.
“Where’s my phone? I need to call my girlfriend. And probably my dad.”
“We’re gonna get these pads off you and take a look at your leg, then you can call your girlfriend. Dad’s already on the way.”
What the hell is he talking about? Taking my gear off? I open my eyes and sure enough, I’m still wearing all my hockey gear, skates and helmet included. I try to sit up so I can help take everything off and they just push me back down while flashing me irritated looks.
My jersey and shoulder pads come off with little issue. They don’t let me leave my undershirt on. No one makes any comments about the five hickies I have dotted over my torso, but I know Kennedy’s going to be so embarrassed. “Where’s my chain?” I demand with a hand at my throat feeling nothing but skin.
A woman holds up two giant plastic bags, “All your personal belongings are in here.”
I’ll sue this hospital if they lose it. I have to tell her that I didn’t have a choice, that they made me take it off. “No, my girlfriend. You’re not listening to me, I need to call my girlfriend! She was at my game and saw–”
“I’ll call her for you as soon as I take a look at this leg.”
There’s some movement at the foot of my bed and then I think I actually black out for a second before I bolt straight up.
