Page 82 of Icing the Play

Myles freed a ragged exhale. “Yeah.” His voice cracked. “Was…”

Jesus fuck, I couldn’t watch him be this upset and not do anything. I was his fucking boyfriend. It was my job to take care of him. With my heart splitting apart, I reached for him, then wrenched my hand back.

His father’s gaze flicked to my hand. “This was supposed to be a surprise.” He gritted his teeth. “I came here on business and heard about the scout, so I wanted to surprise you with tickets for the game tonight. I mean, five of your friends will play and it’s sold out…” He huffed a breath. “This is terrible.” He turned and stepped from the bed, scanning the personnel walking by. “Where is the damn doctor?” He rubbed his neck. “I’m going to see if I can find him, eh.” He stomped into the hallway.

“Myles.” I leaned toward him and whispered, “What do you want me to do?” ‘Cause right now it was awkward and heartbreaking as fuck.

“I don’t know.” He rubbed his eyes. “If the situation with the scout had worked out, I was going to tell my family about us. But now my life is fucking ruined.” His breath hitched, and he covered his mouth with his hands. A tear dropped onto the blanket.

“Fucking hell, Myles.” I couldn’t watch this and notdo anything. Throwing an arm around him, I held him to my chest and kissed his hair, brushing it off his face. “I’m sure you’ll bounce back from this. I’ll help you. I’ve been through this shit before. Freshman year, I hurt my damn knee. I was out for six weeks, but now I’m better than ever.”

“Do all football players hurt their knees? JJ said he hurt his too.” Myles clung to me, sniffling.

I snorted softly. “Pretty much. I guess it’s like hockey players losing teeth. It’s a rite of passage.”

A man cleared his throat. “I have the doctor here.”

Oh, no…I crept my gaze toward the sound. Of course, it was Mr. Cummings. I freed Myles and stepped back, my body tensing. If he hadn’t noticed the hand-holding and shit earlier, now it was clear that me and Myles were more than friends.

An older man in green scrubs with a stethoscope around his neck stood next to Myles’s dad.

“Looks like there’s no tear, so your knee appears to be sprained. There’s some swelling, but that’s expected. I want you to stay in the brace and follow the RICE protocol.” He lifted his brows. “Being a hockey player, I assume you’re familiar with it?”

“Of course, rest, ice, compression and elevation.” Myles breathed in deeply. “How long until I can play?”

“Four to six weeks. Your trainer will have some physical therapy lined up for you when you can manage. In the meantime, the knee will probably feel unstable.” He wagged a finger at Myles. “Wear the brace as much as possible.”

With a glance at his father, Myles said, “I will.”

“Good, then I’ll sign your release orders.” The doctor tapped the bed rail. “I’ve already sent your records to the team doctor.”

“Thank you, doc.” Myles peeked at his dad as the doctor left us. “I suppose you want to know what else is going on?”

Planting his hands on his hips, his father said, “I’m pretty sure I have an idea, but let’s not have that conversation here.” He gave Myles a stern look.

With glossy eyes, Myles winced and peeked at his father. “Dad, I was going to?—”

“Not now.” Mr. Cummings held his palm to Myles. “Let’s get you home and then we’ll hash this out.” He flashed his eyes at me. “I’m going to leave you both alone. I’ll be in the waiting room. I have some phone calls to make.” Lifting his chin, he stomped away.

“He doesn’t even want to be in the same room with me.” Sagging his shoulder, Myles stared at his injured leg. “What the hell am I supposed to do?” His glistening gaze found mine. “Your parents were so cool about us being together.”

“I know.” I rubbed my hand across his back, thinking about my parents’ reaction. “They were shocked at first, though.” What parent wouldn’t be? Especially if they’d only seen their kid in hetero relationships. “Maybe your dad needs time to think through it.” A sharp laugh sprang from my throat. “Hell, he’s probably out there calling your mom right now.”

“No…” He stared at me, hanging his mouth open. As he hooked a brow, he said, “You think?”

“Maybe. Isn’t that what parents do when one of their kids is in trouble?” I snickered. “Not that being gay means you’re in trouble. You know what I mean.” Shit, was I making any sense?

“I hope Mom is taking it well.” He sighed.

A man walked to us with a computer on a rolling cart. “Time to get you out of here.” He typed on the keyboard. “A nurse will bring you crutches and explain everything.”

Fuck, crutches. Those were the worst. I planted my hands on my hips. “Can he put any weight on his bad leg?”

The man squinted into the screen. “The instructions advise against doing it during the first week, if possible.”

Myles dipped his head. “Great.”

After checkingout of the hospital and another silent and awkward ride home, I helped Myles out of the passenger side of my truck. His father had taken an Uber and was waiting for us in the driveway.

---