Page 241 of Beautiful Collide

Once the wound is cleaned and wrapped, I lean back in the chair.

I feel like shit. Everything hurts.

“All right,” I say, sounding more confident than I feel. “What’s next?”

“Next?” Molly repeats, crossing her arms. “Next is figuring out how you’re going to hide this from the team.”

“I have two weeks before practice starts,” I say. “I’ll keep it covered, take it easy, and hope for the best.”

“Hope for the best?” she practically growls. “That’s your plan?”

“It’s worked so far,” I say with a faint smirk.

She glares at me, her frustration bubbling over. “Hudson, this isn’t a game. If the team finds out—”

“They won’t.” My voice is firm. “I’ll make sure of it.”

She looks like she wants to argue, but she doesn’t.

I wish she understood.

This isn’t just about pride. It’s about survival—for me and for my family.

“Fine,” she says finally, her voice tight. “But if anything gets worse, you’re going to a doctor. Contract or no contract.”

“Deal,” I say, though we both know I don’t mean it.

For now, that’s enough.

After a minute, she breaks the silence. “Why did you do it?”

I open my eyes, meeting her glare. “Would you rather I let my dad do it?”

Her expression softens. “You’re impossible,” she mutters, sitting down beside me.

“As you’ve told me many times.” I grin despite the pain.

She rolls her eyes. “Don’t scare me like that again.”

“I’ll try not to.” I rest my head against the back of the couch.

As the exhaustion pulls me under, I feel her hand brush lightly against mine. When she touches me like this the pain doesn’t seem so bad.

85

Hudson

Bad idea.

Fuck, that was a bad idea.

All I did was tug at the straps of my gear . . . No big deal, right?

Except it is a big deal because now, my wrist I’ve been trying to rest screams in protest.

It’s been a week, but I guess I’m still not healed.

If that weren’t bad enough, the cold air in this damn rink is brutal. It feels like I’m being stabbed.

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