Page 7 of Zero Pucks

“As in, like, they can’t find their missing limbs, or they just don’t have one?”

“Limbs gone missing,” I confirmed, and he laughed again as he pushed me into an empty elevator car. “I’m on six,” I told him when his hand hovered by the buttons.

He hit my floor and then leaned back.

“Well, I’ve met three people like that, atleast. But they were all missing arms. The kinds with the hooks.” He made scissor fingers. “So I didn’t need to push them around.”

“Bummer for them. Did they find them?”

“No clue. I was off work by the time they checked out.” The elevator opened up, and he gave me a firm push out. My room was a short stroll down the hall, and I held out my hand when I saw the familiar rose painting that meant my room was two spots away.

And then I noticed something large and dark leaning against my door.

“Oh damn.That’snew for me,” he said.

We got close enough that I could see them clearly. My legs. They were resting against the door with a bright orange Post-it stuck to the left socket. I snatched it when I could reach and held it close to my eye to read the neat block letters.

THOUGHT YOU MIGHT NEED THESE. HAD TO MAKE MY FLIGHT, SO I COULDN’T BRING THEM UP. SORRY.

It wasn’t signed.

“And the mystery continues,” I said. I stuck the note to my jacket and hugged my legs to my chest. A medium-sized fortune was not down the drain today, and I wouldn’t need to call and beg and humiliate myself to the NHL organization in order to get replacements.

There was justice in the world.

Kind of.

My memory was still a fuzzy mess of nothing, and I still had no idea who this mystery person was. Or what happened. Or what we did. I had some ideas because, well, I woke up pretty much naked and in someone else’s bed, which also meant…shit. I needed to go get tested because I had no idea where I’d been or if anything had been inside me. God, I was not looking forward to the stinging dick swab.

But it would be worth it. And what mattered now was I was safe. I was back in my room with all my stuff, I had my legs, my wheelchair for the airport, and I could get the fuck out of this godforsaken city that seemed to hate me for every second I was there.

I was so ready to be home.

“Thanks for your help,” I said to the guy. I should have gotten his name. I dug into my wallet and pulled out a wad of cash that wasn’t as small as I’d expected it to be after being at the casino all night.

Assuming I was at the casino all night. A weird, foggy memory hit me. A man’s laughter? Lights on the Strip flashing by me?

Was I in a car at some point?

My head swam as I tried to dig into that bit of memory. Or was it a dream? Shaking my head, I let it all go. There was no point in pushing myself now. I needed some coffee and a car to the airport, where I planned to wheedle my way into changing my ticket so I could go the fuck home.

He tucked the cash into his pocket and waited for me to open my door before pushing me inside the room.

“Bet you’ll never forget me,” I said as I hopped off the cart and pulled up onto my messy bed.

He shrugged and smiled as he turned the cart back toward the door. “At least until the next mascot convention.”

I shot him a quick salute, and then the door shut, and he was gone.

And I was alone, with no idea what had happened in the last twelve hours and no idea how to find out.

CHAPTERTWO

TUCKER

It wasthe moment I realized there was still no better feeling than when my skates hit the ice that I knew I was going to be okay. Trapped in the hospital, missing huge pieces of my body, I felt like I’d lost everything that had once made me the person I was.

It took seventeen months after my final surgery before I was able to do it and another three years before I stopped falling on my ass every time I let go of the wall. But it happened.

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