Page 62 of Crossing Lines

“I’ll text you on Sunday when I get in, but it should be in the early afternoon,” he said. “So, have something fun planned.”

“Don’t worry, I will.” I set my glass down on the side table. Hopefully, if we ended up at the gay bar, Owen wouldn’t be there. “See you soon.”

“Yeah, see you. Have a good night, Ryan.”

“You too. Bye.” I hung up the call and peered at my phone. That had to have been the strangest conversation I’d ever had with Laurent. Oh well, Sunday would be here soon enough.

Friday night,I stood behind the bench at the rink. We were playing our first of two games against Omaha, and we were ahead, two to zero, at the start of the third period. I watched the players vying for the puck, rushing up and down the ice. Ace had done a fine job tonight, blocking so many shots I’d stopped counting.

My gaze caught Boehm snatching the puck from a D-man in the corner by Omaha’s net. As Boehm made to turn, the D-man was on him and they scuffled, then their forward skated in and whacked them both against the boards.

Bouncing off the boards, Boehm flew backward, his skate catching the skate of the Omaha winger’s, and he smacked the ice, his body whiplashing his helmet down with a crack.

“Oh fuck.” With heat swarming my chest, I straightened myshoulders and paced to Finley. “Did you see that? Where’s the ref?” I stabbed a finger out toward the ice.

Jonah rolled back and forth, holding his head.

My legs itched to move. Fuck, I wanted to go out there.

Teammates skated to him, and some knelt.

“Go check on him.” Finley patted the shoulder of our trainer, and she bounded through the gate onto the ice with her pack. “No penalty, Gibson. Boehm had the puck and just tripped.” With a scoff, he rubbed his mouth. “Better not have a concussion. We need him right now.”

“Concussion?” I snapped my gaze from Finley to Jonah, now sitting up on the ice while our trainer checked for said concussion.

“Don’t you have a change out to manage?” His hard gaze met mine. “I’ve got Boehm. You focus on your own guys. It’s probably time to get Carlson off the ice, don’t you think?” He cocked a brow, then glanced behind me.

I followed his glance, which led to Patterson, who was studying us. Finley was right. I needed to stay in my lane. Hanging my head, I placed my hands on my hips and stepped to my area behind the bench, then signaled for Carlson, who’d been at Jonah’s side, to leave the ice.

As Carlson hopped over the board and took a seat on the bench in front of me, I leaned down. “How is he?”

“He knows what day it is.” Carlson threw a peek at me. “But he’s pretty out of it.”

“Shit.” With my heart skipping a beat, I patted Carlson’s shoulder. With a scout watching Jonah, it wasn’t a great time for him to be out with an injury. I focused on Jonah, now standing with the help of his teammates and skating slowly for the bench.

The crowd cheered and he waved at them, then approached us.

Fucking concussion. I knew it by the slack look on his face. I clenched my jaw as a knot formed in my gut.

Glancing at Finley, who met my gaze for a beat and pursedhis lips, I drew a deep breath. I had to pretend like Jonah wasn’t my boyfriend, like he was just another player. But fucking hell, that would be hard. Every speck of me wanted to go to him. I worried my lower lip. He was in good hands. We had a great team of medical people here to look after him, and I had to remember that.

Jonah skated through the gate and his teammates slapped him as he walked through. His gaze found mine and he winced, then touched the tip of his nose, giving me our sign.

He knew I’d be worried about him. “You okay?” I snuck a peek at Finley. I didn’t care what he thought right now. Jonah was right here in front of me. I could ask a player if they were okay, even if they weren’t on my line.

“Concussion. Mild, but I’m out.” He glanced at Patterson.

“Go take care of yourself. You did well out there. Be proud of the game you played tonight.” Patterson patted his back.

“Thanks, Coach.” As he walked through the back with our team doc, he paused for a short chat with Finley, then threw me a quick glance and walked off into the tunnel.

Fuck, I had to focus on the game and my own guys. I’d see him afterward. I could take care of him then. I glanced at my new D-men on the ice, readying for the puck drop.

The game was over,and we’d managed to squeak by with a win in overtime. All the post-game meetings and fanfare were over, and I sat inside my car in the rink’s parking lot with my cell phone in my hand. I hadn’t had a chance to call Jonah yet to see how he was doing. He’d still be home alone, and I wanted to hear his voice. I dialed his number and set the phone on speaker.

“Hey, Ryan. I figured you’d be calling about now.” He chuckled.

“How are you feeling?” I set my wrist on my steering wheel,my throat tightening. I hadn’t had a chance to tell him about Laurent yet. I’d wanted to do it in person tonight.

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