Page 40 of The Boyfriend Zone

Chapter 14: Sean

The roar of the crowd was deafening, our home arena packed to capacity for the matchup against our biggest rivals. I stood at the blue line during the national anthem, trying to focus on the flag instead of the pain radiating through my shoulder or the scouts I knew were watching from the stands.

This game mattered. Not just for the team's ranking, but for my future. Representatives from at least three NHL organizations were here, evaluating talent, making notes that could determine the trajectory of my career.

And I was playing injured. Seriously injured, if the increasing intensity of the pain was any indication.

I scanned the crowd briefly, my eyes finding Lucas almost automatically. He was at the edge of the rink with Nate and Ava, the three of them huddled together with notebooks and cameras. Even from this distance, I could see the concern in his expression as he watched me.

The anthem finished, and the crowd erupted into pre-game cheers. My stomach churned with a toxic mixture of determination and dread as I skated into position for the opening faceoff.

"You good?" Tristan asked quietly as he passed me, his captain's instinct for team wellness clearly picking up on something.

"Fine," I replied automatically. "Let's do this."

The first period went better than I'd dared hope. I used my size and experience to compensate for the limited mobility in my right arm, positioning myself carefully to block shots and clear rebounds without overextending. Coach seemed satisfied, even giving me a rare nod of approval during a line change.

But by the second period, the pain medication I'd taken before the game was wearing off. Each check, each sudden movement sent jolts of agony through my arm. Worse, the opposing team had noticed my weakness, deliberately targeting my right side.

"They're coming after your shoulder," Zach muttered during a break in play. "Want me to run interference?"

I shook my head. "I can handle it."

But as the period wore on, it became increasingly clear that I couldn't. My reactions were slowing, my passes less precise. Coach was starting to give me looks from the bench, his earlier approval turning to confusion and then frustration.

With three minutes left in the second, disaster struck. A rival forward caught me against the boards, driving his shoulder directly into my injured side. The impact was like an explosion of white-hot pain, so intense I couldn't even cry out. I went down to one knee, the arena seeming to spin around me as I struggled to breathe through the agony.

Tristan was suddenly at my side, his voice urgent in my ear. "Sean? You okay, man?"

I couldn't speak, could barely nod as I forced myself back to my feet. The trainer had appeared at the boards, clearly ready to come onto the ice, but I waved him off. The whistle hadn't blown—leaving now would cost the team a penalty we couldn't afford in such a tight game.

Somehow, I made it through those last excruciating minutes until the buzzer signaled the end of the period. The moment I was off the ice, my legs nearly gave out. Zach was there instantly, one arm around my waist as he guided me toward the locker room.

"You're done," he said firmly, no room for argument in his tone. "This is insane, Sean."

I wanted to protest, to insist I could finish the game, but the pain was overwhelming now. In the locker room, I collapsed onto a bench in the far corner while Coach addressed the team, outlining strategy for the final period.

"Sean," he barked, noticing my absence from the huddle. "Get over here."

"He's hurt, Coach," Zach said before I could move. "His shoulder."

Coach's eyes narrowed as he approached, taking in my labored breathing and the way I cradled my arm. "How bad?"

"I can play," I said through gritted teeth, even as my body screamed otherwise.

"Like hell you can," Coach muttered, gesturing to Dr. Shaw, who had followed us into the locker room. "Shaw, check him out."

The team fell silent as the trainer approached. He was gentle but thorough, his practiced fingers probing my shoulder in a way that made me bite my lip to keep from crying out.

"Not good," he pronounced after a moment. "Severe sprain, possibly a partial tear. He's done for the night at minimum."

"No," I protested, pushing myself upright despite the wave of dizziness that washed over me. "Coach, I can—"

"You're benched, Sean," Coach cut me off, his tone leaving no room for argument. "Jensen, you're up."

I watched helplessly as the team huddled without me, discussing strategy for the final period. Zach threw me a sympathetic glance before joining them, leaving me alone on the bench with Dr. Shaw.

"You should have come to me weeks ago," the trainer said quietly as he began fashioning a makeshift sling. "This didn't happen tonight. It's been building."

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