Page 120 of The Stud

Unlike when you’re an active member on the roster.

Aka…me.

“You sure you got this, Pecks?” Hesitation to leave the waiting room remains. “You sure this doesn’t fuck up your night?”

“Uslosing‘cause your ass wasn’t there would fuck up my night, aye,” he describes on a ruffling of his shaggy black hair. “Get to the barn. Help get us a dub. I’ve got shit covered here.” His 3P sweats covered frame flops into the nearest seat. “Trust me. I know how to handle hospitals. I’ve had plenty of hours in ‘em.”

I do my best to politely grin. “Appreesh.”

“Yeah.”

“Text me.”

“The second we know something.”

Neena suddenly strolls up from behind me to extend him a to-go cup. “One Ginger Gross hot chocolate forpapi.” She sassily slinks into the seat beside him. “One delicious pumpkin spice for me.”

“Pumpkin gross,” Peck promptly argues. “Gingerbread great.”

“Ginger gross,” her head feistily cocks to the side, “just like the cookies.”

“I like the cookies!”

“Sí, sí, I know.” The cup soars towards her full, plump lips. “I’m basically theonlygood taste you have.”

Peck chortling at the chirp is the last thing I hear on my way out of the hospital.

Thankfully, the building isn’t too far from the stadium, and double thankfully, my gear bag’s already in the dry stall.

Set out.

Waiting for me to fucking throw it on.

Less thankfully, Coach, Cap, and the boys are so unbelievably pissed that no one bothers to speak to me.

Not during the entry.

Not post the anthem.

Not even on the first whistle.

While I’m not technically scratched for the night, I’m not exactly welcomed on the shifts.

My line – which includes Cap and Wahl – is rearranged to accommodate my absence – as though I don’t exist – and every time they hit the ice, the lump in my throat grows a little bigger.

Chokes me a little harder.

I continuously tighten my grip on my stick to keep my unmoved position beside Lyam Wheaton, our other goalie, knowing it’s a test.

Can I do what I’m told?

Can I do what’sbestfor the boys?

Can I surrender my need to show everyone in the stadium, everyone on the team, every team I’ve ever left why I’m fuckingworthsomething?

Why Ideserveto still be in this league versus lying in a hospital bed.

Breathing but unconscious.

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