Scout catches me. “Stop. Don’t move.” She presses me back against the bed, voice trembling. “Stay down, please.”
Why is she here again? Touching me, smelling like eucalyptus, tempting me. My head throbs and my shoulder is a bright white point of pain.
“Did, uh…” I scrabble to pull my thoughts together. “Did we win?”
“Yeah we won, asshole,” Hunter grunts. “Can you believe this kid?”
“Be nice,” Juliet chides. “He’s your baby brother.”
“We know,” Jett says with a sigh. “Our very stupid baby brother.”
I ignore them, glancing at Scout. “You didn’t have to come.”
“Are you kidding?” Scout asks softly. “You scared us.”
She fusses with the blanket, smoothing it flat, tucking the corner by my hip. I feel disconnected from my body. Her hands hover above my skin like she wants to fix what she can’t.
Juliet and Hunter look at each other but stay quiet. Jett stares at the floor. I push weakly at Scout’s wrist. “I need sleep.” My voice is low and final.
“Oh.” She nods and takes a step back. “Okay. Whatever you want, Silas.”
“Whatever… I want…” I echo her words. They bounce around inside my skull. “I wish you would say that to me… some… other time.”
Scout’s cheeks turn pink. “What?”
“He’s high,” Hunter mutters. “I’ll get the nurse, Silas.”
Eventually a nurse swans in with an IV bag, checks the line, and adjusts the drip. “This’ll help with the pain,” she says. She leaves and the room goes quiet again.
The pain meds hit hard. The room softens at the edges. The ache dulls to a low hum. Scout says something I can’t make out. I stop trying to listen. The dark comes fast and I let it take me.
Chapter Seven
Scout
Tuesday morning, I move through the corridor with my tote bag, clipboard tucked against my ribs, headset cord brushing my cheek. I've already solved two fires before coffee. I located a missing mouthguard for one of the rookies. I swapped out an allergy-friendly snack box for another because Shane doesn’t like hummus.
After the saga with Silas, reality came back with a vengeance. For one heart-shattering moment, I thought he might not be okay. But he made it through surgery fine. When Juliet left his hospital room, I went with her. It's not like I had any compelling reason to be there. Other than a shared past, one that we definitely don't talk about.
So I went back to work on Mobility Mondays. The world moved on and I have to keep pace with it. By this point, I've drafted so many versions of my proposal I can recite it word for word from memory. It's still imperfect, but it's as good as I'm going to get.
I'm about to enter the coaches' conference room when I spot Silas and Hunter ahead of me in the hallway. Silas's rightarm sits in a sling, and he moves with the careful precision of someone trying not to show pain. His jaw's tight, shoulders rigid beneath his dress shirt.
Hunter mutters something and Silas snaps at him. "I said I've got it."
"Asshole," Hunter says. "You had surgery nine days ago. Let me help you."
Silas spots me and his expression hardens. The look he shoots me could slice a lesser woman in two. But I've known this stubborn jerk for years. He's always hostile. You just have to work around it if you want to deal with Silas.
People call him Ice Man, but I've seen glimpses of something else underneath. The way he watches players when they're struggling, mentally noting their weak spots so he can adjust his game to cover for them. How he arrives at the arena before dawn and leaves after everyone else, like hockey's the only thing keeping him upright. He's not cold. He's scared of being anything else.
"Hey!" I say, rushing toward him. "You're already up and around after surgery?"
His expression's flat and standoffish. "Clearly."
"Hey," Hunter says in greeting. "Don’t mind him. Were you headed to the coach's office?"
"Yeah. We're supposed to have a meeting at ten."
