Page 110 of That's Too Pucking Bad

“You think you can have both? The game and the girl? Grow up, Zane.”

With that, he turns and leaves, the door clicking shut behind him.

I sit there for a long time, staring at the wall. The doctor’s words echo in my head, mixing with my dad’s.Rest, ice, therapy. Pain is part of the game. Man up.

When I finally leave the hospital, I head straight home. The ice pack in my bag feels heavier than it should.

The next morning, I pop two painkillers before I leave the house. The bottle says one, but fuck that. I need to be able to move, to skate, to play like nothing’s wrong.

Practice is brutal. The drills are relentless, and every time I push off the ice, the pain shoots through my leg like fire.

“Zane!” Caleb skates up beside me, his eyes narrowing. “You good, man? You look like shit.”

“I’m fine,” I snap, skating past him.

He follows me, not letting it go. “Seriously, dude. You’re moving weird. You can’t be good after what happened–”

“I said I’m fine,” I repeat, my voice sharp. “Shut it, Caleb.”

He backs off, but I can feel his eyes on me the rest of practice.

By the time it’s over, I’m drenched in sweat, and my leg feels like it’s been ripped apart. But no one says anything. No one notices.

That’s how it has to be. As long as I can keep playing, no one will know.

I head to the locker room, ignoring the ache in my leg. Pain is part of the game. I repeat the words in my head like a mantra, hoping they’ll drown out the doubt.

But as I sit down and untie my skates, Remy’s face flashes in my mind again. Her smile, her laugh, the way she looked at me like I mattered.

I shake my head, shoving the thought away. I can’t think about her right now. I can’t let her distract me.

Because if I do, everything falls apart.

Coach’s voice cuts through the noise in the locker room.

“Listen up!” he barks, and the chatter dies instantly. He stands in the center of the room, clipboard in hand, eyes sweeping over us like he’s daring someone to slack. “The next few games are critical. We’ve got back-to-backs. No time to rest, no time to screw around. You either show up, or you sit. Your call.”

My leg throbs like hell, but I keep my face blank. It’s been screaming at me all morning. Every shift, every stop on the ice, it’s like a knife twisting in my thigh.

Coach goes on about strategy, line changes, and how the scouts are going to be watching. I try to focus, but all I can think about is the ache. It’s pulsing, radiating up into my hip.

I glance down at my leg, fighting the urge to rub the spot. But I know better. The second I give in, someone will notice, and I can’t have that. So, I sit here, gripping my water bottle like it’s the only thing holding me together.

Finally, Coach Jacobs wraps up. “That’s it for today. Get your heads right and your bodies ready. We need this.”

The team starts to file out, but I stay seated, waiting until the room clears out. I dig through my bag, grabbing the bottle of painkillers. Popping two into my mouth, I swallow them dry. The bitter taste lingers on my tongue, but I don’t care.

By the time I step outside, the late afternoon sun is blinding. I squint, adjusting my bag over my shoulder, when I spot Remy. She’s leaning against the fence, scrolling through her phone, wearing this little pink dress and sneakers. Her hair’s loose, catching in the breeze, and she looks like a fucking dream.

For a second, I forget the pain, the stress, everything. I just see her.

I walk over, and she looks up, surprised.

“Zane,” she says, her voice soft.

I don’t even think. I drop my bag, closing the space between us, and pull her into a hug.

She stiffens at first, but then she relaxes, her arms sliding around me.

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