The arena is packedfor our home game against Edmonton. I’m trying to block out the noise and go through every pre-game ritual I’ve done a thousand times before. Tape my stick. Stretch. Try to find that headspace where nothing exists except the ice and the puck and my teammates.
It doesn’t work.
Barrett pulls me aside before we head out and studies my face like he’s trying to read a book in a language he doesn’t speak.
“You with me tonight, Rodriguez?”
“Yes, Coach.”
He doesn’t believe me. I can see it in his eyes. But he nods anyway. “Whatever’s in your head, leave it in this locker room. I need you focused.”
“I will be.”
I’m lying and we both know it.
The puck drops and immediately I’m drowning. Everything’s too fast, too loud, my body’s moving but my brain is still back in that hallway with Juliette, watching her walk away from me.
Five minutes in, I lose the puck at our blue line. Don’t even see the Edmonton forward steal it until he’s already streaking toward our net. Luca makes the save but it doesn’t matter. The damage is done.
Barrett benches me for the rest of the period.
I sit and watch the game continue without me, watch my teammates do the job I’m supposed to be doing, and keep seeing the hurt in Juliette’s eyes. About how I put it there. About how I’d give anything, my contract, my career, everything, just to take it back.
Second period, Barrett puts me back out. One more chance. One more opportunity to prove I’m not a complete disaster.
I’m skating up ice with the puck and my head finally starting to clear. See Dex breaking toward the net. Start to thread the pass.
The hit comes from my blind side.
One second I’m upright. The next I’m weightless. Then my head cracks against the ice and the world goes black.
Sound comes back firstbut it’s wrong. Muffled and distant like I’m underwater. Someone’s trying to help me sit up and I push at their hands because everything hurts and I don’t understand what’s happening.
“Rodriguez, it’s Marnie. I need you to stay still for me.”
Marnie. Right. I’m at a game. I got hit.
But something’s wrong. Something’s missing.
“Where—” The word comes out slurred and thick. “Where’s Juliette?”
“She’s not here. Let me check you first?—”
The panic hits me like a second collision. She’s not here. She’s not here and I need her and everything hurts and I can’t think straight.
“No. Need, I need Juliette. Please.” My voice sounds wrong, broken, but I can’t stop it. “Call her. Please call her.”
“Romeo, you hit your head really hard. I need to examine you?—”
“Juliette.” I’m clawing at my helmet trying to get it off but someone’s holding my hands down and I can’t pull away. “Please. She’s, I need her. Please.”
The crowd noise is too loud. The lights too bright. Everything’s spinning and the only solid thing in my head is her name. Juliette. Juliette. Need Juliette.
Strong hands help me off the ice. Voices around me that I can’t quite process. The tunnel. The locker room. Training table.
Marnie’s trying to ask me questions but I can’t focus, can’t think about anything except the crushing weight in my chest that Juliette’s not here.
“Call Juliette.” I grab Marnie’s wrist. Not hard, just desperate, anchoring myself to something real. “Please. I know she’s mad. I know she doesn’t want to see me. But please. I’m begging you. Call her.”
