I'm trying to believe her, but all I can see is Ace collapsing on the ice, his body limp, and the image is burned into my brain like a brand.
My stomach rolls, and I press my hand over my mouth. "I think I'm going to puke."
"Do not puke in my car."
"I can't promise that."
"Devon, I swear to God—"
"I won't! Probably. Maybe."
She takes a turn so fast I'm thrown against the door, but I barely notice because we're pulling into the hospital parking lot, and she's barely stopped the car before I'm out, running toward the entrance.
The automatic doors are too slow. I nearly crash into them before they fully open, and then I'm inside, looking around wildly for signs, for directions, foranythingthat will tell me where to go.
Leila catches up, grabbing my arm. "Emergency room. This way."
We run through the halls, and I'm vaguely aware that I'm causing a scene, that people are staring, that there's probably a "no running" policy I'm violating, but I don't care.
We round a corner, and I nearly crash into Jinx.
"Where is he?" I gasp.
He points down the hallway. "Room 3. But Devon—"
I'm already moving, not waiting for whatever he was going to say.
The door to Room 3 is partially open, and I shove it the rest of the way, not bothering to knock.
And there he is.
Ace.
Sitting up in a hospital bed, very much alive, very much awake, surrounded by what appears to be the entire Wolves roster crammed into a space designed for maybe three people maximum.
Relief hits me so hard I nearly collapse. "Oh, thank God." The words come out breathless, shaky. "You're okay. You're—"
"Devon?" Ace blinks at me, surprised. "What are you—"
"I thought you were dead!" I'm aware I'm being dramatic. I don't care. "You collapsed! On the ice! You just—" I make a helpless gesture. "—went down, and you weren't moving, and I thought—"
"I'm fine," he says, and he's smiling now, soft and warm, like I'm not currently having a breakdown in front of his entire team. "Just mild a concussion. I'm okay."
"A concussion isn'tfine! A concussion is a brain injury! Your brain was injured!"
"Technically correct," Wall says from somewhere in the corner.
I spin around, suddenly remembering we have an audience. The entire team is staring at me—Becker with his arms crossed, Groover leaning against the wall, Petrov grinning like he knows something, Washington and Leila near the door.
Too many people. Way too many people.
I need to be alone with Ace. I need to see him up close, inspect him, make sure he's really okay.
"Everyone out," I announce.
Silence.
Becker raises an eyebrow. "Excuse me?"
