Finally, Jeremy sits up.
“He’s conscious,” Brinley whispers. It’s like the whole stadium releases a sigh of relief at the same time.
As they lift Jeremy up and off the ice, he doesn’t seem sad or hurt; he looks heated. He looks angry.
The rest of the period goes on like nothing happened except that the team is struggling without him. If we weren’t hurting before, we sure are now. Not that they’re not playing their asses off, but you can tell they aren’t all there.
In the last six minutes of the period, they score three goals, while we only get one. I don’t think I’ve ever been to a game this high scoring in my life, not even professional.
“I’m gonna see if I can get in the back.” Brinley gets up as the team disappears. “I want to see if Jeremy is okay.”
“I’ll come with you,” Tate says, standing up.
“You wanna come?” Brin wonders, turning toward me as she stands on the steps.
“Why not.” I sigh. “Sitting here will be more awkward than going.”
The hallway is dead empty, and I realize this is the first time I’ve been back by the locker rooms. And I was totally wrong. This is way more awkward than sitting on the benches by myself.
“You’re not gonna knock or something?” I wonder as Brinley pushes the door open.
“No.” She starts to walk into the locker room.
“What if they’re naked?”
“It’s the middle of the game,” she replies.
I shrug, and Brinley shakes her head, entering the locker room. I’m 99% sure we’re not supposed to be in here.
“Who does that fucker think he is?” It’s Declan’s voice I hear first.
“I’m just happy you got to him before I did,” Jaxon says.
“I was ready to kill that son of a bitch,” Zeke says. “How’s he gonna sit there and say it was an accident?”
“Knock knock,” Brinley says to make it known that we’re there.
“Hey,” Declan says, the words meant for Brinley, but his eyes stuck on me. “I thought you weren’t coming tonight.”
His eyes finally leave me and locate Brin as she hugs him.
“Tate texted me and told me the game was crazy,” she begins. “You know I love a crazy game.”
“How long have you guys been here?” Cam comes out from the showers, his face damp, and I don’t know if it’s from sweat or water. Maybe a mixture of both.
“Enough time to see what happened to Jeremy,” I respond. “Or at least witness the aftermath.”
My eyes deceive me and look in Declan’s direction, and when I do, I find his eyes already on me.
“How is he?” Tate finally asks.
“He’s pissed,” Fletcher responds. “That ass wipe, O’Connell, went after him on purpose. Jere didn’t even have the puck; it was on the opposite end of the ice.”
“Okay, so he’s angry,” Brinley continues, “but how is he physically?”
“Doctors say he’s gonna have to sit out a couple weeks,” Declan replies. “O’Connell knew about Jere’s back. That motherfucker could’ve paralyzed him.”
I knew Jeremy was going to a physical therapist. I just assumed it was due to his wrist injury from the summer.
