Page 41 of Pucking the Team

With each step, the pressure in my lungs intensifies, like a vise slowly squeezing the air from them. I’m drowning on dry land, the sensation terrifyingly familiar from all the asthma attacks I had as a kid. Black spots swarm across my vision, and I have to brace myself against the cold concrete wall to keep from collapsing.

I fumble for my phone with trembling fingers, trying to focus long enough to call for help. But the screen blurs and shifts before my eyes, a dizzying kaleidoscope of light and color. My blood pounds in my ears as I struggle to make out the numbers.

9…1…1… The digits swim together, my brain too starved of oxygen to make sense of them. Fear rises like bile in my throat.

Is this how I die? Alone in a fucking stadium hallway because I was too scatterbrained and horny to remember my inhaler? God, I’m an idiot.

The edges of my vision fade to black as the phone slips from my grasp, clattering to the floor. I’m falling, spiraling into a suffocating abyss.

CHAPTER 18

EMMA

My eyes snap open, the fluorescent lights above me coming into focus as a rhythmic beeping fills my ears. The sterile scent of disinfectant tells me exactly where I am before my vision fully clears.

I’m in a hospital room, the walls a muted cream color adorned with generic floral prints that are probably meant to be soothing.

A heart monitor beeps steadily beside the bed, and I feel the tug of an IV line in the back of my hand. As my surroundings sharpen, I make out Lukas and Alex seated in uncomfortable-looking plastic chairs pulled up close to my bedside. Their faces are etched with matching worried expressions, eyes bloodshot and hair mussed like they’ve been running their fingers through it anxiously.

“Hey, you’re awake,” Lukas says gently, leaning in closer and taking my hand in his large warm one. The tender gesture makes my heart pound. I open my mouth to speak, but my throat feels as dry and rough as sandpaper. Alex quickly reaches for a plastic cup of water on the rolling tray table and brings the straw to my chapped lips.

“Here, take a small sip,” he urges, hazel eyes soft with concern. The cool water is a sweet relief sliding down my parched throat. I want to ask what happened, how I ended up here, but I’m almost afraid of the answer.

But as I drink the water, my mind clears, and the terrifying memories of the asthma attack at the game come flooding back. The panic, the desperate struggle for air, the feeling of my lungs constricting as the world tilted and went dark.

I shudder involuntarily at the recollection.

“What…what happened?” I rasp out, my voice still hoarse and weak. Alex’s hand comes to rest gently on my arm, his touch warm and comforting through the thin hospital gown.

“You had a severe asthma attack,” he explains, his tone laced with concern. “It was really scary. You collapsed at the game, and we were so worried about you.”

I frown, trying to piece together the fragmented memories. “But why am I in the hospital?” The last thing I recall is being at the arena, not being loaded into an ambulance.

Lukas shifts in his seat, his hand tightening around mine. “You hit your head pretty hard when you passed out, babe.”

“How long was I out?” I ask, a thread of anxiety winding through my chest. The idea of losing time, of being unconscious and vulnerable, makes me feel off-kilter.

“A few hours,” Alex replies, glancing at his watch. “The game ended a while ago. We came straight here to be with you after it ended.”

I’m simultaneously touched by their dedication and aghast at the idea of them missing post-game analysis or media, shirking their responsibilities, because of me. “You didn’t have to do that,” I protest weakly, even as a selfish part of me is glad they’re here.

Lukas shakes his head adamantly. “Of course we did. There’s nowhere else we’d rather be than right here with you, Emma.”

Before I can respond, the door to my hospital room abruptly swings open. My stomach bottoms out as Ryan steps inside, still in his suit from the game. He freezes when he spots Lukas and Alex at my bedside, confusion and a hint of anger flickering across his chiseled features.

“What are you doing here?” Lukas demands, rising to his feet. The two men glare at each other.

Oh god, this is my worst nightmare come to life. All three of the men I’m secretly dating, in the same room, with me stuck in a hospital bed and no way to escape or defuse the situation. I want to sink through the mattress and disappear.

Ryan’s jaw clenches as his gaze darts between Lukas and Alex suspiciously. “I heard about what happened to Emma. I had to make sure she was okay.” His eyes finally land on me, softening with concern. “Are you alright, sweetheart?”

I manage a weak nod, my tongue feeling thick and clumsy in my dry mouth. This is so not how I wanted them to find out about each other. Lukas steps forward, placing himself almost protectively between me and Ryan.

“Why do you care?” he asks Ryan bluntly, crossing his arms over his broad chest. “Last I checked, you barely know Emma.”

Ryan bristles at that, drawing himself up to his full impressive height. “I care about her,” he retorts, a muscle in his jaw ticking. “Not that it’s any of your business, Dvorak.”

Alex rises slowly from his chair, placing a restraining hand on Lukas’s shoulder. “We all care about Emma,” he says firmly. “There’s no need for this macho posturing.”

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