Page 25 of Replay

Fuck.

It had been a normal two-on-two drill. But Crash had slid into me at a weird angle and I’d gone down badly on my knee. I’d been lucky so far, never had any kind of major injury, and I was freaking out.

I wasn’t supposed to be done with hockey yet. I was only twenty-four, and I’d planned on at least ten more years. Lots of time to stash some cash and figure out what I would do next, since hockey was the only thing I’d ever been good at.

Carlos finally stepped away and came back with an ice pack. He wrapped it around my knee and I hissed in a breath. It was cold.

“So?” I asked. I needed to know what I was dealing with.

“Class one MCL tear.”

“Shit. That sounds bad. Can I play? How long am I out for?”

He rolled his eyes. “You’re not playing tonight. You need to rest this for at least a week.”

“A week?” I squeaked. That meant missing our opening game as well as tonight.

“Yes. If you do everything I tell you, I might let you back on skates in a week. But if you don’t, it’ll be two weeks or longer.”

“Fuck.”

He shrugged. “I know. But this isn’t the postseason. If you’re going to damage yourself, better now than during the playoffs.”

If it had been the playoffs, I’d have told him to wrap it and let me go.

He glared at me like he could read my thoughts. “Remember, your game is based on speed. You need your knee working properly. Ice it regularly, wrap it, and I’ll show you what exercises to do. Do not do more thinking it will get you back on the ice sooner. Use the crutches. If you do all that, you should be back quickly.”

I collapsed back on the table. Missing tonight and our first game of the season was going to suck, but I’d do everything he told me to do. I couldn’t gamble with anything connected to playing.

Carlos emailed me videos on the exercises I was supposed to do and wrapped my knee, sending me back to the locker room on the crutches. Most of the guys had gone, but Crash was waiting, dressed and looking like his dog had died.

Wait, he didn’t have a dog, did he?

“Oh, fuck, Ducky. I didn’t mean to. How bad is it?”

I was pissed, but it wasn’t Crash’s fault. I mean, the guy was already beating himself up over that pass from the last game of the finals.

“Gets me out of going to Ottawa.” I gave him the best smile I could.

“Shit. And after that?”

“If I do everything they tell me, I’ll be back in a week.” He’d said on the ice, so that meant playing, right?

“Fuck.”

“Not your fault. Just one of those things. You go win tonight’s game for me, okay?”

It took a little more reassurance before he wandered away to get ready for tonight. And me? I struggled into a pair of sweats, grabbed my wallet and keys and phone before it hit me.

My car was a stick. And my knee wouldn’t let me work the clutch. Assuming I could get into it on my own with these crutches. I’d never had to use them before, and they were stupidly awkward.

I could get an Uber or a cab home. But I didn’t want to leave my baby in the lot here. It should be safe, but…I’d ask someone to drive me home. Problem solved.

Except the rest of the team had gone. The trainers and equipment guys were busy prepping for tonight’s game. Who was left that I could trust?

An idea flashed. I could ask Katie. We were supposed to be friends now. She might be in class or something, but if she wasn’t, I could book her a cab to get here, and she could drive me and the car back to my place. I could pay her, maybe. If she was a student, she’d need money, right? I knew she could drive a stick shift.

Brilliant! It would get me out of a jam, and I’d like to show her my car. She wasn’t as expensive as Cooper’s Ferrari, or Royster’s Lamborghini, but she was the car I’d always wanted, and I was proud of her.

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