The horn went, and players filed back into the tunnel. The Surge was 2-1 up, and it showed in the clamor of voices, the swagger as they moved. I grabbed my kit bag and followed. While everyone filed into the locker room, I sidestepped toward the Delta Center med bay with a nod at McAvoy.
Theo peeled off from the group and followed me in, shutting the door behind him with his elbow.
He tugged off his glove and flexed his fingers like nothing was wrong. “I’m feeling good out there. Surviving the checks. Did you see?”
I gestured to the exam stool. “Sit.”
“I’m beginning to like it when you get bossy,” he said with a smirk, then did what I said.
“That’s not a thing.” I reached for the anti-inflammatories. “Open.”
He did, no argument, swallowing the pill dry. The man could make a pharmacy shudder with how casually he took meds.
I checked the strap under his gear, pressing along the band across his bicep to test the tension. The unit held, but the muscle underneath felt tight in a way that told me the irritation wasn’t calming down. Just holding its line.
“How’s this feel?”
“Like a vacation,” he said through a stiff grunt. “Five stars. I’d tip the staff, but I left my wallet in my other pants.”
I didn’t give him the laugh he was looking for. Instead, I checked the edges of the strips to make sure they held. “You’re gonna need to ease off your reach. You’re extending more than you need.”
“So youwerewatching me.” His tone carried a smug lightness.
“It’s my job. I watch all of you.” My hand brushed past his ribcage when I cinched the strap again, and moved along before either of us could realize. “And seriously. You have a shot to sail through this game without doing damage, so take it. Your shoulder will thank you at our next round of rehab.”
He gave a stiff nod. “I’ll rein it in. Promise.”
“Good,” I said, sliding my hand from under his shirt. “Because the next few weeks are gonna suck for your game if you end uptearing something. Meaning, there won’t be any game to speak of.”
He huffed a laugh. “This is less fun when you’re threatening me.”
“I’m not threatening you. This is just what responsible people sound like.”
“Then it’s a miracle you sound like that at all.” He ran a hand through his hair and, together with the stupid grin on his face, it made him look like he was enjoying this more than someone in his position should.
I shoved his helmet into his hands. “Get out before I medically disqualify you just for being insufferable.”
His grin widened. “You love it.”
I didn’t answer that. Instead, I pushed past him and opened the door to let the locker room noise back in.
Third period started.
Theo took my advice, and played a tighter game. Not slow exactly, just more calculated. Not that it stopped him from taking hits he didn’t need to take. He was built for contact, and it was useless expecting anything less.
Midway through the period, he took a hard knock against the boards. The puck spit back out to the neutral zone. He pushed off to chase the play, but his right arm seemed to lag a fraction behind everything else he was doing.
Fuck.
“Are you okay?” van der Berg asked. I’d been so focused on Theo, I hadn’t felt him sit down next to me. “You look like you’re about to pass out.”
Interesting choice of words. But it wasn’t me passing out I was afraid of.
“Mind your business,” I replied, hoping it would also be enough to curb whatever he was about to say at breakfast.
A slow smile did little to light up his usually austere features. “You should complain to the hotel manager about the pea under your mattress instead of taking it out on me.”
I shot him a look, but left it at that. Was happy to. We were up by one, and the game was almost over. Any further back and forth might tempt the get-what-you-asked-for gods.
