Page 78 of Game Misconduct

“Yeah.”

Danny caught a brief glimpse of Mike’s mouth, turned down at the corner, before he hastily ended the call.

The game came around soon enough. Danny knew he was making this a bridge too far, but he had to get through it, knew what was coming during it and after it, and he wasn’t going to make it if he wasn’t at least a little insulated from life. He got a little drunk before the game. Not too much. Just enough that when he and Mike inevitably met in the neutral zone and the gloves came off, he could barely feel it. Just enough that he was able to get through the postgame interviews without wanting to rip off the heads of the reporters. Just enough that he was able to get back to the hotel to wait for Mike.

It didn’t take him long. He was wearing his usual winter uniform, which usually drove Danny nuts. It was a hoodie under a leather jacket, which just seemed inefficient, especially considering he never zipped the stupid jacket. But today it was just a Mike thing.

“Hey,” Mike said, frowning up at him. “You seemed off during the game. Are you okay?”

“Yeah. I—yeah, I’m fine. But we—can we talk?”

He could see the emotion flicker over Mike’s face before he was able to hide it. Something like fear. “Yeah, sure.”

Danny made his way back to the bed, and sat down on it, a little gingerly, watched Mike shuck his jacket and jeans and shoes, waited for him to crawl into the bed after him. Danny looked down, at the spot on his thigh where Mike’s hand was splayed next to Danny’s clenched fist. His heart was beating so fucking fast it almost felt like it was going to burst under its own power, a machine pushed past its limits. Sweat drenched his back.

“Danny...”

“It’s—sorry. I’ve never really been able to—talk about this. But I think I gotta talk about it.”

Mike didn’t say anything, but his thumb rubbed a circle on Danny’s thigh, rough and warm.

“I—okay. You’ve read it. You know what happened to me.”

“I haven’t heard it from you.”

A wheezing noise, not quite a laugh. “No one’sheard it from me. Not even Celi. Not even my Ma and Pa.” He took a breath. “I was twenty-one, and it was my second season with Chicago. I was playing really well. I wasn’t, I wasn’t drafted high, but I was, really working on my game. The assistant coach there, Marty, was really... It was...”

Mike shifted around and pushed himself high up enough on the mountain of hotel bed pillows that he could get an arm over Danny’s shoulders, and for some reason that gesture almost broke him. Mike was always that way. An asshole on the ice; clumsily kind at home. Danny didn’t deserve it.

“We were playing the Royal, and we were up by one, and I’d had a fight with Bourque earlier in the game, and there were only ten minutes left in the third and—and I’d already passed the puck. It was gone. But he, uh. He hit me anyway while I was rushing to follow it. And it was at a really high speed, and I wasn’t fucking expecting it at all, because fuck, I didn’t even have the puck. He hit me. Really hard, and, uh—I fell at a bad angle. I could feel it. And then one of my teammates tripped too and uh—”

Mike’s arm was tight around his shoulders and Danny, for a moment, turned his head into Mike’s hoodie. He couldn’t bring himself to actually look at his face.

“It was like, I could see everything as it was happening, clearly, like you wouldn’t even think because everything moves so fast, but I couldn’tdo anythingto stop it. And it hurt so fucking bad. And I was just telling myself, don’t scream, don’t scream, get up. Get up. You’re fine. You’re fine. I tried to get up. I couldn’t get up. It hurt too much and my leg—my leg wasn’t really working right. My whole side felt like it was on fire. I tried for like a solid thirty seconds to stand and to, to not scream, to get up, just—getup—until the trainer forced me back down on the ice and made me wait for—for the stretcher.”

“Jesus, Danny,” Mike said, head resting on top of Danny’s, voice muffled by his hair.

He took a deep breath. “It was. It was pretty awful. I, uh, broke my femur and my hip. Needed surgery for both of them. The worst part was the recovery. It was so fucking long... I was so bored, and so frustrated, and my body just wasn’t doing what I needed it to do. I just wanted to be back on the ice. I was young and I’d been having such a good season and I had my wholecareerwaiting and I thought I could handle it. I pushed myself too hard and fucked up the hip again. Ended up needing an additional—if I could go back in time and fucking—”

“Hey. Hey, none of that. Dude, you didn’tknowwhat would happen.”

“I did know. The doctors, the trainers. All of them told me exactly what I had to do, and I was a tough guy, right? I wanted to get back out on the ice. So I lied about it and went back out too fast and—it’s just been—I’ve never been able to skate the same. Since that. Since then.” He couldn’t pull his face away from Mike’s chest, because he couldn’t deal with fuckingpity.

“You’ve played for likeover a decadesince then, dude. That’s pretty fucking impressive.”

“Never the kind of game I know I could play. Never the kind of gameyoucan play, babe.”

“Hey, fuck that. Whatever I have, it’s ’cause of you, all right? So fuck off with that. Oh, Jesus, Danny, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean—”

He was laughing, muffled by Mike’s hoodie. “No. Don’t apologize. I didn’t—I haven’t been able to fucking talk about this to anyone before. I dream about it sometimes. But I’ve never...”

“Thank you. For telling me. For trusting me? Danny, you’re fucking amazing that you’ve like, been doing everything you do. I don’t thinkIcould have done that.”

“Well, I hope you never have to find out. I just—I loved hockey so much. I love hockey so much. I didn’t know what else Icoulddo. So I’ve just had to go on.”

“Is that why you...?”

“I mean...everything hurts, at this point. It wasn’t just those two injuries. They were the worst, but I’ve lost count of the number of concussions I’ve had and just played through. Those aren’t the only bones I’ve broken. It’s been... I don’t think I’d trade it for the fucking world, if I could go back and do it again, but Mike, I’m held together by spite and fucking Crazy Glue at this point.”