Page 120 of Break The Ice

“Did you fight with Wren?”

I shake my head. “No, I didn’t.” The lie feels heavy on me. We’re a team, and honesty is such a huge part of our relationship. Lying is the biggest disrespect I could bestow on them, and I hate myself for it.

“He’s really angry.”

I look towards Wren and feel that chill of anxiety blast through me. He’s cold and shut off, the way he was when he first got here.

“I’ll talk to him.”

I push off and chase Wren down, but just as I get close to where he’s warming up, Foiyer and Laurels come at me, chasing a puck they are fighting over. I duck and skid to a stop again, but before I can come to a halt, my blade bites deep into the ice.

I don’t get an opportunity to save myself or even wonder. It’s sudden. I think ‘oh, shit’, and then it’s over.

I wake up onthe ice, surrounded by the team.

The first thing I notice is Wren’s concerned expression, and then there’s the pain. It’s a white line of agony that spikes up my leg from my foot. What the fuck happened?

I must say it out loud because Foiyer holds me down on the ice.

“Don’t move, Raines, your blade snapped, and half of it’s embedded in the ice.” He pauses and then adds in a softer, kinder voice, “you hurt your ankle.”

“Move.”

Our physician kneels beside me and gently looks at my leg. “Right, hold him still. We’re cutting this off, and then you guys are going to carefully get him off the ice. We don’t need a stretcher.”

“It hurts, Kurt.”

Kurt looks at me with regret. “I know, Raines, but it will be over shortly. We’re going to get you out of this skate and into my room so I can get some ice on you and see how bad it is.”

I moan and shift as they cut the skate off me, but they don’t let me move. The team surrounds me, concerned and anxious. Wren backs off, standing in the circle around us watching, but not close.

I beg him silently, but he resolutely stays away. The cold of the rink has never felt so cold. I feel it to my bones.

“What the actual fuck?” Yarek hisses, his eyes snapping as he looks at my skate, still partially embedded in the ice. “Who the fuck didn’t check his blades? Look at how worn they are!”

I don’t even care.

I’m not playing. It’s over, there are several more games of the season, but I know this is a bad injury. I can feel it.

“Raider,” Wren whispers. His face is pale, and his eyes are wide as the guys hoist me up.

Wren inhales, and a look of confusion crosses his face, but then it clears, and he nods.

“Win tonight. For us,” I murmur. “Then, let’s talk.”

I bite back my groans as they get me up. They carry me effortlessly to the edge of the rink where Wesley helps me into a seat. Carried off the ice by my team, the crowd screaming my name, it all suddenly hammers home. I know this is it for me.

They take off my other skate as I watch the team start moving again. The crowd chants my name until it ebbs, and there is nothing left but a dull roar. I am forgotten already.

Someone puts a slide on my foot, and then I’m being hoisted up, and Wesley is supporting my weight and helping me down to the treatment room.

Bitterness wells up, threatening to choke me. I might lose Wren and the game I love tonight.

And I still haven’t saved Ryann.

As I carefully hobble to the treatment room being supported by Wesley, I find for the first time in a long time I want to call my dad.

“You’ll be okay, Raider. You’ll be back on the ice in no time,” Wesley says sympathetically. “We’ll get you fixed up and back for next season.”

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