Page 137 of Hockey Boy

“Fucking pansy,” Sebastian jeers. “Told you he’s not fit for the game anymore.”

“And you’re not fit to be a coach,” War hollers, cocking his arm back and slamming a fist into Sebastian’s face.

In seconds, a full-on brawl breaks out on the ice. Fortunately, the medics get Aiden up, and in his concern for me, he guides me off the ice while the refs work to break up the fight.

“You okay, Princess?” he asks as his focus shifts from me to the action on the ice and back again.

He wants to be out there helping his teammates and his brothers, but there’s no way I’m allowing him to go.

My heart beats rapidly in my chest as I throw my arms around him. “Just stay with me,” I beg.

Aiden loops his arms around my waist and squeezes me tight. “Always, Lex. I’m not going anywhere.”

“Who else needs ice?”the team trainer, Rory, asks as she holds up another pack.

Beside me, Beckett raises his hand. His black suit is rumpled, and his tie is missing, as are some of the buttons on his shirt.

With atsk, she presses the packet against his face. “Liv is going to be pissed.”

Gavin laughs, but it’s cut short when he winces and clutches his ribs. “Fuck, that hurts. But yeah, Liv is going to kill you.”

Brooks leans against the lockers across from us, shaking his head. “A bunch of grown men throwing fists. Idiots.”

I snort in response, taking in the sorry sight around me.

Beckett hits me with a glare. “We did it for you.”

My heart sinks, and my face heats. “I’m sorry.”

Beside Brooks, War is sporting a swollen lip, but he grins. “Don’t apologize. That was the most fun I’ve had all season.”

“Cap misses the fights,” Brooks muses, his tone light. In the next heartbeat, though, he’s staring me down, his mouth a flat line. “You going to tell us what the fuck happened out there?”

Once again, my heart rate spikes. I flex my hand, searching for some semblance of control. “I had a panic attack.”

“Yeah, we got that part. But why?” Gavin asks, his brow furrowed in concern.

Every eye in the room is trained on me as I take a heavy breath. “I have anxiety and depression. I’ve been working on coping skills, but today, they just weren’t enough.”

“You’re the happiest person I know,” Daniel says from the corner, his tone far more subdued than usual.

“Means nothing,” Fitz says, running a hand down his face.“I’ve been on antidepressants for years.”

War nods. “Same.”

My heart stumbles as I look from Fitz to War. “What?”

He shrugs. “Sometimes we can’t do it on our own.”

“But,” I stammer, grappling with the reality I’ve been thrown into, “doesn’t it affect how you play?”

“Some meds can affect some people that way,” Fitz says. “But honestly, it’s more likely to have a positive effect than a negative one. So long as you take the medication regularly andcheck in with your coach”—he hits me with a look laced with a heavy dose of reality—“and you’re regularly monitored by the team doctors, as well as your own.”

Shame washes over me. Slumping, I hang my head. “I really fucked this up. I get why you were considering benching me.”

Gavin scoffs. “We werewhat?”

“Somebody sent me a screenshot of your texts,” I say, keeping my focus locked on my lap.

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