Page 31 of Off Limits PUCK

Jones looks at the TV. It’s tuned to a sports channel and they keep replaying my big hit on the ice. I had no idea how dazed and confused I looked after that hit. It’s terrible to watch, but I can’t pull my eyes away. In my desire to keep the pain off my face, I ended up looking like a zombie.

The commentators are going on and on about how my shoulder seems healed, since my face doesn’t look like I’m in pain, but that I have rotten luck since I now have a concussion.

I shake my head at the talking heads on the TV, then stop when it triggers some discomfort.

“They have no idea what is what, do they?” I mumble.

“Coach is going to get up there in front of the media any minute. I’m not frowning at you,” Jones says after glowering at the TV. “I just want answers so he can know what we’re dealing with before he faces the media.”

I slam a fist against the bed. I feel impatient, too. It’s my body and my brain we’re talking about, after all. I hate not knowing what is going on.

Jones barely registers a glance in my direction as I slam my fist again. “This is all just bullshit.” I close my eyes, my outburst making my head pound all over again.

“It’s part of it,” Jones says, his voice carrying a tinge of sympathy. “You’ll be fine, though. Remember what your PT said. You didn’t tear anything new.” He gives me one of those manly “stiff upper lip” looks and then rings the bell—again—for a nurse. “We need an update. And we need it now.”

I chuckle, eyes half open. “She’s not going to know anything until the tests come back.”

We hear a female voice in the hallway, shrill and loud. I groan. I know that whine anywhere. It’s Kenzie. I jolt a little in bed. If she told our parents about this… then I remember, even though I’ve been playing for a decade, Mom and her friends still watch. Our parents will find out sooner than later, even if I try to spare them the worry they’ll feel about me. I just hope they don’t get on a plane and come here.

I look at Jones. “That’s my sister. Can you go get her?”

He seems to pull himself from a daze, deep in thought. He looks at his phone and then says, “Oh, that’s who has been calling and texting me. I didn’t register the name as your sister.”

“Hey, man, you okay?” I ask.

He looks at me. “Our assistant captain is too old to take your place. And guys like Gator are still a bit too young and inexperienced. I was just thinking…”

My jaw drops and my will to overcome this setback skyrockets. “You were just thinking what? That I’m done for? You were doing what—future planning?” I huff out a scoff. “I’m not out of this yet, doc. Don’t you dare write me off like that.”

“You being out changes the entire team dynamics. I was just thinking it through,” he says, not unkindly.

It reminds me that this is a business for them. I’m one small part of a larger wheel. They’ll rush to replace me as fast as they can so that the Eagles franchise doesn’t lose money. I’ll just have to domy damn best to recover fast so that I prove them all wrong—I’m not a has been.

Jones steps out to get Kenzie. My phone is back at the arena in my locker, so I’m completely stranded without it. We left in such a rush, the last thing on my mind was remembering to get it. Once Jones and I were in an ambulance, my only concern was trying to feel okay. Now I wish I’d grabbed it. I want to text Allie.

Kenzie walks in, her oversized cut off jersey with my name on it swallowing her frame. Her eyes are blazing, but they also hold fear. She shakes off Jones’s grip on her arm and studies me.

“You are in one piece, so that’s good,” she announces, letting out a big sigh. “When you went down on the ice…” Her voice trails off and then a security guard steps in. She glares at him. “I told you I’m his sister and that makes me family. I’m not some rabid fan of his. Geez!” She looks back at me. “This guy literally did not believe me even when I pulled out my driver’s license. He thought I faked my ID to pretend to be your sister!”

I can’t stop the laugh that eases from my lips. Kenzie is a basket case sometimes, but she has a spunkiness to her that life never seems to be able to put out.

“That would be a little excessive,” Jones agrees with her, focused on his phone, but glancing up at her long enough to earn himself a little look of admiration from Kenzie. I don’t often agree with her so she’ll take it where she can get it, apparently.

She looks back at me. “What do the docs say?”

“Nothing yet. Concussion is a definite. I don’t know anything else.” I try out my shoulder, but whatever pain meds they put in my IV make it impossible to tell how it really feels.

“Allie didn’t say anything to me. Just told me where you were and that I should come see you. That you probably needed someone with you,” she glances at Jones, “I mean, family with you.”

He looks at me. “Coach is asking for updates.”

I throw my good hand up. “I don’t know any more than you do, buddy.”

Then, a nurse comes in followed by a doctor in a white coat. It’s the same doctor who greeted us when we arrived in the ambulance. I know hockey players for the Eagles get white glove treatment here. That’s why we send all our players here, no matter what part of Charlotte they live in.

“I have great news for you, Jake,” he says in a happy tone.

I don’t trust it, though. It was the same tone he greeted me with even before he ran any tests. What about my condition could possibly make him happy is a mystery.

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