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Relief.

He'd been waiting for me to look at him.

I managed the smallest nod before turning my attention back to Cinder, and apparently that was enough because when I glanced toward Max again, some of the panic had gone from his face.

Not all of it.

Not even close.

Cinder checked my neck and asked enough questions to make sure I knew where I was, who we were playing, and what the score was. Only when he was satisfied did he help me sit up slowly.

The arena tilted unpleasantly for half a second before settling again.

Max moved closer the moment Cinder gave him room, though he still stopped short of touching me.

“You scared about ten fucking years off my life.”

His voice was rough enough that the joke didn't quite work.

“I can hear you, so presumably I'm not dead.”

That earned me the smallest flash of irritation, which was almost reassuring.

Cinder was less impressed. “Excellent. He's sarcastic. That means absolutely nothing medically, but it does mean he's still Ash.”

I would've laughed if breathing hadn't hurt.

The replay was already running on the broadcast.

“That’s a frightening moment for Colorado,” Dave said. “You can see Thorne's attention leave the play for just a second, and at this level, that's all it takes.”

“The hit itself is legal,” Jack agreed. “It's the fact that Thorne was completely unprepared for it that makes the collision so dangerous. We talked earlier about him looking distracted, and unfortunately, this is exactly what can happen when you're half a second behind.”

Cinder helped me to my feet once he was satisfied I could stand, then immediately made it clear that getting upright didn't mean I was returning to the game.

Max stayed close until we reached the tunnel.

That was where Cinder finally turned on him.

“I know you're worried, but I need to assess him properly and your team still needs its captain. Go finish the game. I'll send someone if there's anything you need to know.”

Max looked as though Cinder had suggested leaving me on the side of a highway.

I saved him from arguing. “Go. We're already down two, and if we lose because you're standing outside the medical room glaring at the door, I'm going to be pissed.”

His attention stayed on me for several seconds before he finally gave in. “I'm coming back the second the game ends.”

It wasn't a question.

Cinder waited until he'd disappeared down the tunnel before steering me toward the medical room. “Congratulations. You've apparently acquired a guard dog.”

Despite the pain, I smiled.

The initial assessment confirmed there were no immediate signs of concussion, although Cinder made it very clear that a head impact meant symptoms could still develop. My shoulder appeared strained rather than seriously damaged, while my ribs were most likely badly bruised.

Nothing broken.

Nothing that immediately ruled me out of Game Five, assuming I remained symptom-free and passed everything I needed to pass before then.