“I know but …”
“Everything is going to be perfect,” I reassure him, especially because we have Camyrn Starr, Harper’s bestie and event coordinator extraordinaire, organizing it all so nothing is going to go wrong, unless he injures himself in the game, which is the only thing that could derail this proposal. “That woman is crazy about you.”
He stops pacing and looks at me. "You think so? After everything.”
“Yes, because of everything.”
He exhales slowly, and some of the tension leaves his shoulders. "Okay. Okay, we’re good."
"Now go play. Win this game. Then go propose to your girl."
He grins, pulling me into a hug. "Thanks, Jo."
"Anytime.”
He heads into the locker room, and I make my way to the family section. Collette is already there, bundled in her Mavericks scarf. Issy is next to her, looking beautiful and completely unaware of what's about to happen tonight. I’m sitting with the family tonight because it’s a special night, otherwise, I would be down in the medical section.
The game starts, and the crowd is electric. It’s New Year's Eve and the Snow Classic, the energy in the arena is insane. I watch Emmett on the ice, he's playing hard tonight, aggressive, taking hits and dishing them out.
First period passes.
Second period starts.
Then it happens.
Emmett goes into the boards, hard. I gasp as I stand up. No. No. No. The hit is clean, but the angle is wrong, his shoulder takes the brunt of it.
He goes down.
Doesn't get up.
My stomach drops.
The ref blows the whistle.
He doesn’t get up.
Mike is on the ice, rushing toward him.
Play stops.
I'm on my feet. “I’ve got to go,” I tell Collette as I rush out of the suite. I’m not thinking about anything other than him.Please do not let this be a season-ending injury, please.I rush down the stairs, through the labyrinth that is the back of the area, and make it to the tunnel, past security who know me, and into the medical room.
Emmett is sitting on the exam table, his jersey is off, and Mike is gently probing his shoulder. Emmett grits his teeth, trying not to show how much it hurts.
"How bad?" I ask from the doorway.
“Jo?” Emmett calls my name before wincing in pain.
Mike looks up. "Grade 3 AC joint separation. Maybe worse. We won't know until we get imaging."
My chest tightens. "How long?"
"Four to six weeks minimum. Could be longer."
This is going to kill him. If he had a tantrum over missing one game, he is not going to deal well with missing weeks of them.
Emmett's jaw clenches. "Fuck."
