Page 33 of Defensive Zone

“Why did I scare them?”

He runs his fingers through my hair a few more times, his mouth twisting like he’s trying to figure out what to say. “You took a bad hit on the ice,” he says after a beat. “You were knocked unconscious, and it worried them. Especially Elliot.”

I frown. “I scared Elliot?”

“Yeah, but don’t worry, he’ll be okay.”

“Mhm,” I murmur, closing my eyes again as exhaustion takes over.

“I’m gonna let them in now, so keep your eyes closed while I open the door.”

I give a small nod, missing the feel of his fingers in my hair as they leave my scalp. I hear his footsteps head toward the door, followed by the soft murmur of chatter filtering into the room. I wince when light fills the space. Even with my eyes closed, it still feels like a stab in my brain.

“Hey there, big guy.”

I open my eyes to see Ethan standing at the top of my bed. Next to him are Blaine and Peyton, and on the other side of the bed are Kendrick, Jackson, and Elliot. All of them have their brows pinched in concern.

“How are you feeling, dude?” Peyton smiles, squeezing my ankle under the horrible, itchy blanket.

I look to where Carter stands at the foot of the bed, chewing on his bottom lip. He looks so tired, like he hasn’t slept in days.

“How long have I been here?” I ask out loud.

“A few hours,” Ethan answers. “You’ll probably be here for a little longer, just until your head’s okay and they fix your wrist.”

“Yeah, my head hurts a lot.” I look down at my splinted wrist again. “I broke it. Or I think the doctor said I broke it, but my head is…” I wave my left hand in the air, trying to find the rightwords to describe how confused I feel right now. “I don’t really know. Everything’s a bit confusing.”

“Fuck,” Blaine mutters. “That fucker Mueller is going to pay for this.”

They begin to talk quietly, then there’s a female voice interrupting them. This time, she sounds annoyed.

“I know everyone is worried about Mr. Reid, but he needs rest right now, and having multiple visitors will be overstimulating. Say your goodbyes, and you can come back tomorrow.”

My eyes are so heavy, I can’t keep them open any longer. I’m so fucking tired and my head hurts. Maybe if I sleep for a while it will help.

“We’ll come back to see you in the morning,” I hear someone say. I know their voice, but it’s distant, so I don’t know who it is.

“’Kay,” I croak.

The room goes quiet. The beeping of the machines is kinda soothing, lulling me to sleep.

When I wake up sometime later, the room is completely dark aside from the glow of the monitors I’m hooked up to. Blinking wearily, I glance around the room to see Carter sitting in the chair next to my bed. He’s resting his head against his fist, watching me silently. He gives me a small smile but doesn’t say a word.

Then I spot a second figure slumped on a chair in the corner. The hair sticking out from beneath a baseball cap tells me it’s Elliot. He’s resting his head against the back of the seat, fast asleep.

“He didn’t want to leave you,” Carter whispers, his hand reaching out to comb through my hair again.

Keep doing that,I want to tell him, but I can’t find the energy to speak, so I hum.

“He is a little upset about the game and asked if he could stay.”

“Why? What happened at the game?”

“You played Washington tonight, and Mueller took you out with a dirty hit. You were knocked unconscious and broke your wrist. Elliot was the first one to get to you, but you were unresponsive, and it upset him.”

Fuck, I don’t want Elliot to be upset. He’s too good of a person to be upset. I don’t remember anything, though. I don’t remember the game. I don’t remember when I got here.

One thing I do know is my head is fucking killing me.

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