“Medical is racing to assist the captain. Everyone, please quiet down so they can hear orders and coordinate treatment.”
And just like that, the screaming died into an unsettling hush.
A few children were crying, along with some adults, but there was no talking. Not even whispers.
“Snow, move!” A voice shouted from the ice, and bile crept up Quinn’s throat when he realized August had been the one shielding Eren from the melee.
Niko took hold of August’s jersey the second he was standing, pulling him away from the people now blocking Eren from view. Quinn caught one glimpse of Eren seizing before he disappeared behind the bodies of the medical staff, and Bea gasped beside him.
“Oh god,” she said, her body trembling hard enough to shake the glass. “Oh my god. Oh—”
Quinn held her tight, stopping her rambling before she became inconsolable. He couldn’t understand why August was wearing so much red when he was sure that the Bigfoots’ colours were blue, green and white.
Even his hair, which was normally chalk white, was red in random patches. More of the colour was dripping onto the ice under August’s skates, but no one noticed other than him because everyone was looking at Eren.
The shouting from the medical staff sounded muted as they loaded Eren’s body onto a stretcher and carried him out, and then two members of the team rounded on August, running toward him.
“He’s hurt,” said Quinn.
He didn’t wait for Bea to respond. Quinn shoved through the row of horrified spectators and went to the gate, flashing his badge at the staff member to let him inside. The hush grew into a crescendo as Quinn wentthrough the door, but he could still hear one of the players from the other team hollering,“I killed him!”over the panic.
August was guided off the ice by the medical staff with a steadying hand on either side of him as they led him toward the entrance, where Quinn stood frozen in place. The man to August’s left kept a thick wad of gauze pressed firmly to his forearm, and it was already soaked through with blood. It explained the source of the blood smeared across the ice behind them, but Quinn had a sickening feeling that not all of it was August’s.
And then August lifted his head as he drew closer, and his gaze met Quinn’s.
Quinn had been braced for fear, shock, pain, or even anger, but his stomach dropped when August’s unfocused and glassy eyes stared through him rather than at him. His face was eerily calm, too, as if his mind had slipped somewhere far away to escape what his body couldn’t. There was no recognition there, just the hollow vacancy of someone who was no longer fully present.
“I said I’m fine,” August growled, jerking his arm away from the man holding it. “Get your fucking hands off me.”
Quinn knew he was overstepping, but he jumped in and grabbed onto August’s arm to stop him from fighting and was relieved when August surrendered instantly. He was a big man, especially on skates, and Quinn didn’t want August to hurt anyone if his dissociation turned into fight or flight mode.
“He has to go to the hospital,” the man told Quinn. “You’re his boyfriend and Callahan’s medical executor, right?”
Quinn nodded. His jaw was clenched so hard that it felt welded shut, so it was impossible to answer with words.
“Callahan is already on route, so you’ll ride with us. Snow’s arm got sliced by a blade during the scrum, and it’s too deep to patch here. He needs to get it looked at by a surgeon.”
Quinn nodded again.
“I told Niko to go to Eren’s house after the game,” August said quietly, his voice sounding distant. “Don’t worry ‘bout Alara and Emira. He’ll make sure they’re okay.”
“It’s a good thing he jumped in, or Callahan would have taken that skate blade to the face,” said the man on August’s other side. They were moving quickly through the halls, Quinn walking backward as they directed him to the ambulance bay, still holding onto the giant man sandwiched between them.
“He’s lost blood,” said the other. “He seems disoriented, so we’ll do a brief neuro exam after we get him hooked up and check his vitals. If he was hit on the head at any point, they’ll see it on the cameras and report back to us for concussion protocol.”
August tried to lift his arm, but Quinn hushed him until he settled.
“Thanks,” said the man with the gauze. “This guy is usually a handful with injuries. I know it’s not conventional to let you be here, but this is an emergent situation.”
Yes, because it washistwo players who were injured.
“Eren—” Quinn choked on his words before he could get his question out.
“We don’t know his condition,” said the man. “The hospital staff will give you an update once we get there.”
August made a sound like a beaten dog, and Quinn tightened his hold on him.
“Eren will be fine,” August said softly. “He can’t die when the last words he heard were a jab at Esme. The world isn’t that cruel.”
