Page 164 of Waiting Game

The crowd suddenly goes wild.

My gaze narrows in on the action on the ice where I can see that Cole is being besieged by players in blue and white, all of them either clapping him on the back or punching him in the shoulder.

I have no idea what happened until there’s a replay on the Jumbotron and I pump the air in celebration and grin wildly as I watch him being lauded by his teammates.

Unfortunately, that’s when a Bobcats player skates past—someone shouts something and, from the epicenter of joy, a fistfight breaks out.

Linesmen try to drag the mob apart, but to little avail. That’s when one of the Stars falls to his knees.

And that’s when the ‘fun’ starts to derail.

Shocked, I gasp then squint as I try to make out who it is, but they’re not getting up. And Cole’s there, holding the others back as they almost trip over the fallen player in their haste to get a punch in.

Finally, the ref gets things under control and a paramedic runs onto the ice to tend to whatever the hell went down while I blinked.

Seriously, that’s how fast it was.

Shortly after, the audience learns it’s Gagné who was knocked down. Gagné who’s unconscious. Gagné who hasn’t woken up yet.

The glee from before has been replaced with outright fear as it’s clear Cole’s teammate isn’t responding to what the EMTs are doing. A few minutes later, he’s being carried off on a stretcher with an oxygen mask covering his mouth.

All around me, the crowd starts clapping and, on the ice, the players tap their sticks.

It’s one of the most moving things I’ve ever seen in my life and my eyes prickle with tears at the sight.

I know, whatever’s going on, I won’t understand until the game is over, but Cole, more than anyone, is distracted. Somehow, he scores again, but the celebrations aren’t as effusive as before.

Everyone, it seems, is thinking about Gagné.

Me included.

CHAPTER 32

MIA

By the timewe’re back in our suite, my heart still hasn’t stopped racing.

The whole game was a nightmare.

Gagné was taken to a hospital, Greco somehow broke his nose despite wearing his cage-helmet-thing, Lewis sprained a finger, and there werefour, count ‘em,FOURfistfights on top of multiple busted noses. Never mind McIsaac, who got hit with a puck in the mouth and still came back to continue the game.

It’d be exhilarating if Cole weren’t on the outskirts of every single one of those fistfights.

After Gagné, my glee shifted into fear as the realization struck—this sport is dangerous.

I mean, I knew that. Logically, I did. But seeing it with my own two eyes? Having skin in the game because Cole’s out there dropping his gloves?

It’s a miracle I didn’t have another panic attack in the nosebleed section.

They won, but what consolation is that to my heart?

Their victory won’t stop me from going into cardiac arrest.

Not that he knows.

He’s been talking about points and where they’re positioned in the standings and how Greco has a great GAA—whatever that is—since he got off the team bus.

I know why though—every two minutes, he’s checking his phone for updates on Gagné but there’s no news yet.

---