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“I just got off shift,” I grumble.

“A half a shift,” he argues. “Follow my finger.”

I do the best I can, but each time I blink, his finger has moved and it’s hard to find.

“How many fingers am I holding up?”

“It’s not fair to wave them around. Stay still and I’ll tell you.”

“Hmmm,” he answers, and takes my temperature. “Stay,” Grayson warns, and shuffles down the line to talk to our assistant coach.

The buzzer signals the end of the second period, and when I stand, everything gets wavy.

Grayson takes my arm. “You won a trip to the treatment room.”

“I’m not sick,” I say, but it sounds funny, like I’m talking underwater.

Grayson silently leads me to the visitors’ training room and instructs me to lie down.

“Fine, I’ll rest.” I keep my skates on in protest.

“He’s dead weight. Put him in the wheelchair.” Brant groans and I’m being carried.

“Guys, he might be contagious. Let the medical staff handle this. Coach will kick your asses if you get sick at the same time,” Grayson barks.

It’s a monumental effort to open my eyes as I’m plunked into a chair.

“Good morning,” Grayson says, as he puts my socked feet on the wheelchair footplates.

“Did I get hit?” I rub my face and can’t remember much of the game.

“We can go with that story.” He chuckles and pushes my chair. “We got you a special van to the hotel. I’ll help you pack so we can fly out.”

“We’re going home?” I don’t remember what day it is.

“Yup. Hold on.” Grayson rolls me onto a lift that sits me in the van.

The ride to the hotel is a nauseating whiteout. I keep my eyes shut because the snow flying at us in the dark makes me motion sick. My number one goal of sleeping is elusive because things keep waking me up. First, it’s arriving at the hotel, then the guys yelling because our flight is delayed, and after that, Grayson forces medicine down my throat.

The medicine helps me rally to walk myself onto the bus to the airport. Small victories count when my head’s full of bees. Grayson offers me earplugs and nasal spray.

“Use these now.” He supervises me and stuffs extras into my pocket. “Oh, and don’t forget to chew gum.” Gum goes in my pocket too, and I tune him out. Get me to my bed.

On the bus, Brant’s my travel partner and asks to borrow my cell. He said he’s going to get a nurse to pick me up and take care of me. When I argue that I don’t need a nurse, he asks, “Do you want to infect your teammates?” Since I don’t, I’m silent as he uses my phone to text. There aren’t any nurses in my contacts. He pats my head. “You’re all set. Thank me later. I got someone to take extra special care of you.”

Brant’s such a great guy. I love my teammates.

There’s a loud thunk, and the bus chugs to a stop.

“It’s too cold to stop,” I complain.

“Here”—Brant covers me with his jacket—“this will keep you warm.”

“K.” I close my eyes again, not caring that a zipper is pressed into my cheek. These meds are top notch. I’ll have to find out what Grayson gave me.

A second later, Brant’s pulling me up. “C’mon. We gotta get on the other bus.”

“What?” I stumble into the aisle and ping-pong along.