He stares at me for a long moment, but I’m not really sure what to say. After a minute, he opens the front door of the shop and climbs into a bright green truck older than me. I stare at the money he left on the counter, trying to sort through everything he said. I quietly ring up the three iris stems so the inventory is accurate, then put the extra change in the small canister labeled TIPS. She only keeps it out on the counter on the busiestweekends, but it’s what she pulls from when she’s had a rough day and wants to buy ice cream without feeling guilty about wrecking her budget.
A wave of determination flows under my sternum and into my fingers, and for the first time in weeks, I don’t flinch away from it. I try and hold onto it, the feeling of Paxton inside of me, of the bond we have. I trace the bonding bite on my collarbone, knowing the divots and lines of it even underneath my sweater. Their words swirl in my mind, coalescing together.
When I kiss you, do you worry I’m thinking about Rhett?
and
I’ve chosen you every single day for over three years.
and
I want to build one with you in it. As my friend, as my partner, as someone part of my… my pack.
I swallow down a wealth of emotion and pull out my phone, sending a text to Carys.
Ok.
The message marks as read, but the dots don’t appear. I send another one.
I want to talk.
This one isn’t read at all. I look at the time and swallow every ounce of pride I might still have. I rush through getting the shop closed properly, all the lights off and coolers at the right temperatures, and the alarm set. Then I get into my car and head for the arena, purchasing the only available nosebleed ticket on the way there.
Chapter Thirty-Eight
RHETT
The arena shakes around me as the crowd screams, my heart beating heavily in my ears. My breaths race out of me as I skate down the length of the ice, following Paxton as Ashton drops a stretch pass right onto the tape of his stick, like it’s a damn drill and not thirty minutes into this game against LA.
The tension is high tonight, Paxton’s old teammates exploiting his weaknesses every chance they can. There’s no bad blood between them, but all’s fair in hockey when we’re trying to close in on a playoff berth. I cut into my edge to stop just inside the blue line, keeping track of the forward sitting a few feet from me, trying to keep the path of the slot closed off as Paxton rims the puck to Thorne on the other side of the net. One of the Reign gets a hold of it and tries to clear it, but Ashton manages to keep it in, snapping off a pass to me. I don’t even look for my brother, passing it blind, trusting he’ll be there.
He is. The puck slaps against his stick as he tries for a one-timer. Metal dings as it hits the crossbar and then goes into the netting, causing a stoppage of play. I ease over a few feet, settingup for the face off. It’s Brett that comes up to me, standing opposite me.
“Hey, man,” he says with a grin. “Long time no see.”
I roll my eyes. “Not long enough, Brett.”
He scoffs, still grinning like a fool. “Come on, you know you’ve missed me.”
Do I like Brett? Yes, actually. But on ice, we’re not going to get along. My retort is cut off as the puck is dropped. Brett pushes past me, gunning for the puck as Kane slots it back after winning the face off. Thorne beats him to it, dumping it toward the net where Paxton’s waiting for a potential tip-in. One of the Reign players roars up on him in his blind spot, cross-checking him. Paxton crumples just as the puck gets to him and the goalie’s stick lunges out, trying to poke check it away.
There’s a horrifying scream, and then all I can feel is Carys’s panic swirling through me. I forget I’m supposed to be holding my position. I forget I need to wait for the referee to blow the play dead. I’m rushing across the ice where Paxton is still crumpled, red slowly pooling on the ice beneath him. The goalie’s eyes are wide with panic, and he’s throwing off his gloves.
“Oh fuck, Pax man. I’m so fucking sorry, dude,” he says. He looks over at the benches, but one of our trainers is already racing for the goal, towels in hand.
The entire arena drops into eerie silence as another trainer is called over and then the paramedics that never see action are rushing onto the ice, too. There’s way more blood than just a normal slice on the face from a stick. Carys’s panic is all-consuming, overwhelming everything I might be feeling. I skate closer, but the trainers keep a hard line.
“What’s happened?” I ask him.
“Skate to the neck,” he says grimly. “They’re getting it patched, and then they’re getting him out of here to evaluate for neck and spine injuries.”
Chapter Thirty-Nine
BILLIE
It takes me way too long to get from the upper level of the arena into the employee hallways. I have to dodge two different people who are supposed to be checking credentials but are too busy trying to figure out what’s happening on the ice. Pain radiates out from the center of my chest, the fear gone entirely.
“Yeah, they got him onto the stretcher now,” someone’s saying behind me. “Looked real nasty. Gonna take a bit for them to resurface the ice. Can’t continue play with that much blood in the crease.”
