Page 43 of Rivals

With Leah and Quinn’s warnings in my head I spend the rest of the game skating hard and watching over my shoulder. I can’t wait to get back and give Reign shit for all of the girls’ hearts he’s broken. We manage to finish the game without any casualties and only one penalty when one of our players could not take the trash talk from the other team anymore. Their team played cheap and they acted like petty brats. I was disappointed in them and the bad rap they could give women’s sports.

Once we were on the bus and headed home, I finally decided to turn on my phone. I’m sure Reign was having a stroke by now, and honestly, I wanted to hear from him. I felt just a sliver of regret about the way I left him today. Reign’s words make sense, even when they piss me off. I’m still getting used to my new normal. And even though he thinks it’s for the best, he still needs to be able to understand and care about my feelings. I made up my mind that when I see him again, we need to finish the conversation. I don’t know how he can make it better. Maybe it’s something he can’t fix, but he at least needs to listen to what I am telling him about how I feel.

Right as my phone turns on, everyone’s phones start vibrating and making alert noises.

“Oh shit!” one of the girls in front of me says, before turning to look over at me. “You should check your messages. Reign was hurt in the game.”

My heart stops and everything around me fades into the background. My fingers tremble as I swipe through the notifications. After turning off my phone, Reign had left me twenty more texts. I hastily scroll to the very end.

THORN: It’s not as bad as it seems. Don’t worry about me.

“Not as bad as it seems,” I huff under my breath and go to the school notification posts for the boys’ hockey team. There is recorded footage of the night’s game as well as a thumbnail dedicated to #81.

Clicking the link, it pulls up a clip of the game. I notice there’s ten minutes left in the third period when Reign skates with the puck, passing it to his right wingman. As he does, another player from the other team barrels toward him, taking him out at the knee. I watch in horror as Reign flips over the guy and lands on his right side. The crowd stands and the play stops. While the other player gets a penalty for roughing, Reign is slow to get off the ice. He gets help from a trainer and one of the guys on his team as they skate him off. The last part of the clip follows Reign as he exits under the bleachers while the crowd claps for his recovery.

I feel physically sick. My stomach churns thinking about him being hurt. Reign has so much riding on this season. It’s not lost on me that the other player purposefully went for the knee Reign broke when we were kids. The injury he received because of me.

The rest of the drive back feels like hours rather than the forty-five minutes it actually is. Once we get back to campus, I bounce on my toes waiting for my turn to get off the bus. Grabbing my bag, I quickly haul it to my room, before heading back downstairs. I’m going to end up locked out of the dorms tonight, but it will be worth it. I need to get to Reign. I need to see him for myself to know he’s all right. I glance at my phone again and quickly text him back.

ME: It looked brutal. I’m on my way over.

I watch the dots jump in response before they go still. I stop breathing while I wait. If he’s up and texting that means he isn’t sleeping yet. He’s probably in pain or worse, they could be watching him for a concussion.

ME: Do you need anything? I can stop by that convenience store on my way.

THORN: I don’t need anything, babe. I can’t wait to see you.

I practically run to his apartment, only stopping to breathe once I reach the elevator. My skin feels clammy after running with the chilled wind on my face. I don’t register the way my own legs and feet are screaming in protest. I just need to see Reign. To feel him.

At his door I knock and wait, listening for him. “It’s open.”

Twisting the handle, I let myself if, locking it behind me. “In my room, Riles.”

Toeing off my shoes, I kick them to the side before unzipping my jacket and laying it over the back of his couch. Quickly, I wander to his room. Our gazes connect when I walk in. Relief flashes in his eyes while he drags them down over my body. Only then do I realize I came right from my game. I’m sweaty and still dressed in my warm-ups.

“Sorry, I smell,” I joke and try to crack a smile.

Reign cocks his head to the side, his eyes penetrating right down to my soul. “You didn’t have to come.”

I eat him up with my eyes, making sure he’s okay and not in serious condition. His leg is propped on a pillow and bagged ice lays under his thigh. His gray school sweatpants ride low on his hips while he sits. The muscles of his cut abdomen and chest flex under my stare. I take in the gold chain, with our numbers on it, as it lies in the middle of his chest. Eventually I bring my gaze back to his and see how tired he looks. His black hair is sticking up in certain places and looks like he’s been running his fingers through it. Tears automatically flow to my eyes.

“Reign,” I say his name on a broken sob and he softens. His arms open like he wants to get up, to come to me. “No, don’t move.”

I walk over to the bed and sit on the edge. I’m immediately pulled into his warm chest, and I go willingly. The upper half of my body is draped over his, my arms winding around his neck. His head ducks into the space between my shoulder and my neck and I can feel him breathing me in. Almost as if reassuring himself that I’m really there, while I take in lungfuls of his fresh scent and the lingering hint of his cologne in the room.

I can’t stop crying while I cling to him. Reign somehow manages to get my hoodie off and maneuvers my body next to his in the bed. His hand moves under my knee, bringing my leg up, to hook over his.

“Wait! I don’t want to hurt you.”

He scoffs and bends his head to place a kiss on my forehead. “It’s just a bruise on my thigh. I’ll be fine in a day or two. I told you it looks worse than it was.”

Now it’s my turn to scowl. “It was a cheap-motherfucking-hit. You had to leave the ice.”

He nods with a smile on his lips. “It was. Don’t worry. I warned him that my girl would come after him and he should watch his back.”

“You’re ridiculous,” I groan, laying my head on his chest and burrowing into him. “I was really worried about you. I needed to come see you.”

“I’m glad you did. Although, I’m sorry you were so worried.” His hands run down my back and I feel my eyes getting heavy. I twist my fingers in his chain and around the golden numbers, letting my palm rest against the steady rhythm of his heart.

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