“No, you stay. I think I'm okay.”
As soon as I stepped into the elevator to go down to the ground floor of the stadium, my phone started buzzing. A call from an unknown Illinois number flashed on my home screen, making my heart plummet. Mer said I’d get a call from the medical staffifit was serious.
“Hello?” I answered.
“Is this Ali Antonova? You’re JP McQuaid’s emergency—” The phone call cut out.
“Hello?” I asked desperately. “Can you hear me?” I hit the elevator button again, trying to get out so I could hear the rest of the call, but it was no use. I had no service. Staring up at the metal box ceiling, I wanted to cry. I just needed to get to him. I needed to seehim. My hand flew to my chest, trying to calm my breathing as I counted down the lit up numbers on the elevator.
As soon as the metal doors dinged open, I power-walked down the cement hallway as quickly as I could. I didn’t stop for anyone. I used the family badge I was given after my first game here, and each time I flashed it, security nodded me through. I didn’t even hesitate crashing into their locker room—something that would’ve mortified younger me.
“You okay?” I blurted out as soon as I pushed open the heavy door.
JP sat there looking sweaty and disheveled. His helmet and gloves were strewn on the ground, but he was still dressed in the rest of his gear. His eyes dropped to my abdomen. “Areyouokay?”
“Me?” Looking down, I realized my hand was protecting my stomach. “Oh, yeah, I'm good.” Relief flooded his eyes as I strode across the room to him. “I’m worried aboutyou.”I came to a stop in front of him, unsure if I was allowed to reach out and touch him.
He gently tugged me forward to sit on his thigh. As soon as I was seated, his sweaty head came down to lay on my shoulder. His right arm hung limp at his side. He closed his eyes, and the only sound in the locker room was his deep breathing.
“What can I do to help?” I whispered.
“You’re doing it,” he mumbled, curling his left arm tighter around me.
I patted his cheek and closed my eyes, grateful that he seemed to be mostly in one piece. “How’s it feeling?” I touched his chest, and his whole body tensed. “I won’t touch it,” I promised.
His forehead creased. “It’s fine. Just needs to be popped back in,” he said in a low voice.
I swallowed hard. He had to be in a lot of pain if his shoulder was stuck in the wrong position. Maybe that’s why he hadn’t taken his skates off yet? I slid off his lap. “I’ll help untie your skates.”
“No, no.” He shifted his feet away from me.
My eyes narrowed on his, trying to read him. “Wait, you’re not going back out, are you?”
“Of course,” he said without missing a beat. “I’m fine. This has happened before.” His jaw tightened as he tried to sit more upright. “Just needs to be popped back in.”
“Stop moving.” My hands flew to my temples. “Don't you need an x-ray or something? You can’t just pop it back in and go out.”
His forehead creased. “Yeah, I can. I’ve done it before.”
I blanched.
He cracked a small grin. “Oh, c’mon, you’re one to talk.”
I rubbed my forehead. He was right. It felt like we suddenly switched spots. I was usually the injured one wanting to get back on the ice. “I donotlike being on this side of things.”
He let out a rough chuckle before wincing again. “I prefer it this way. I hated seeing you in pain.”
I looked down at my swollen stomach. “Well, you’re about to see me in alotof pain in a few months,” I tried to joke.
The empathy on his face almost made me laugh. He opened his mouth to say something, but a guy from the team’s medical staff walked in wearing slacks and a team quarter-zip.
“Ben,” JP said in greeting.
“McQuaid,” the young guy said back.
I moved to the side so Ben could examine JP’s right arm. As soon as Ben lifted scissors to cut JP’s jersey, JP backed up.
“No, stop. I can take it off,” JP said.
