SAWYER
Life has this funny way of creeping up when you least expect it, blowing your cozy, safe bubble apart in a matter of seconds.
One second, I was swooning over Jack’s incredible slap shot and congratulating Archer on yet another shutout, and the next, I’ve got Coach Morgan standing in front of me. All the blood has drained from his face as he hands me his phone.
His mouth is moving, and I can tell he’s forming words, but I hear nothing. Only the murmur of background noise as my conscience screams that whatever has happened cannot be good.
I take the phone from him, staring down atFelicitywritten across the screen. That’s his wife. What’s she doing, calling me directly after a game?
Jack wraps his arm around my shoulders, saying something to his stepdad, which, again, I can’t process.
“Hello?” I say, my greeting an auto response.
“Sawyer, it’s Felicity, Jon’s wife. I’m at the hospital with Collins.”
At the sound of her panicked voice, I come to, adrenaline switching from fight to flight.
Shit,it’s happening again, isn’t it?
I’ve fallen in love with a woman, and she’s being ripped from me in the cruelest way possible.
Sophie’s face as she lay in the morgue flashes in front of me, and instantly, I’m leaning into my center, relying on his steady arm to keep me from collapsing.
“Is she …” I trail off, my numb brain unable, or perhaps unwilling, to finish what I’m saying. I don’t know how to complete my sentence since I don’t really want an answer.
“It’s not Collins,” Felicity clarifies, voice still frantic. She blows out a long breath, trying to center herself, likely for her own benefit as much as mine. “It’s Ezra. He got brought into the ER a few minutes ago. We’re only a five-minute drive from the arena.” She pauses for a second, taking another steadying breath. “He got into a motorcycle accident with a friend. Everyone looks to be okay, but he does have some cuts and bruises.”
All I hear is “motorcycle accident” as I look up at my coach, a wave of nausea that hasn’t hit me in many years tearing through my stomach. I swallow down the urge to empty the contents all over his shoes.
“Pads and skates off now, and let’s get to the hospital, stat,” Archer booms from beside me, already sitting me on the bench as Jack works on my laces.
Jon takes the phone from my hand since I’ve lost all ability to speak. “He’s going to be fine,” he says, trying to soothe me as best he can.
“Sawyer.” Jack’s voice is commanding.
He snaps his fingers in my face, breaking my panic-induced trance, and I blink a couple of times. He snaps them again, and I’m back in the room.
“Sawyer, can you hear me? You’ll be in Brooklyn Central ER in the next few minutes.”
I jump to my feet, practically knocking Jack out in the process as he crouches beside me. “Fuck the next few minutes. I need to be there now,” I roar, ripping at my jersey and pads. “Get me there—now.”
* * *
Thanks to postgame traffic,it took ten minutes too long to reach the ER room.
I barrel down the hallway toward where Ezra’s being treated.
“Collins is with him right now. He’s fine, Sawyer. The nurse just said he’s fine.” Archer pulls me to a stop, his hand wrapped around my upper arm in a firm grip.
Other than in the hotel room, I can’t recall a time when he’s looked so serious, like he’s demanding my attention, and calm. He has the former from me, but not the latter.
“Look, you cannot barge into his room like this, all guns blazing. The kid has just been in an accident, and he’s likely already scared shitless.” His eyes soften, and he brings a palm to my other shoulder, squeezing it gently. “I get it, man. Of all people, I get why you would have such a visceral reaction—you know what it’s like to lose the person you love and in the worst and most dramatic of ways.”
He tips his head in the direction of Ezra’s room. “Behind that door, you’re going to find a son likely petrified of what’s happening around him, still in shock and probably shitting himself that his dad is going to ream him out for riding a bike when he knows he shouldn’t have. You’re also going to find your girlfriend in a mess. My best guess would be that she’s blaming and convincing herself that he wouldn’t be here right now if it wasn’t for her and their shared love of riding. She’s wrong, obviously, but neither of them needs anything other than the controlled Sawyer I know is in there.”
He moves his hand from my upper arm to the center of my chest, and I draw in a deep breath and exhale, relaxing my shoulders.
Archer smiles in response. “That’s good, man. That’s what they need right now.” He looks to the room they’re both in. “Are you ready to go and be the cool, calm, and collected captain I’ve witnessed on the ice for years?”