Page 35 of Ice Cold, Red Hot
The work was dull but engrossing, and several hours passed before I gained an awareness of someone just over my shoulder. I tensed when a hand landed on my back.
“Hey there. Hard at work already, that’s great.”
Ethan.
“Yeah, Daria gave me the lay of the land,” I said, turning to face him and forcing his hand to fall from my back. He stood close and bent down to look at my screen, putting him directly in front of me. I scooted my chair back.
Ethan’s nose was swollen and bruised, and I tried not to think about why.
“You picking up on any through lines as you go through these files?” He asked. There was a tone in his question I didn’t like, almost a sneer.
“Such as?”
“The high rate of concussion in hockey players, for example? Most of them won’t qualify.” His eyes held mine as he said this, the dark brown irises burning with some kind of challenge.
“Yes,” I said. “I’ve been marking anyone with a grade two or above as ineligible.”
Ethan nodded, glancing at the screen and then looking back to me as he straightened, one hand going self-consciously to his face. “One of the many sports that likely leads to uncontrolled impulses and cognitive decline.” He nodded at his own statement. “So many of these college athletes just end up as damaged goods.”
He might as well have just come out and mentioned Shepherd by name. “And the purpose of the research?” Iasked. “Are we looking toward recommending better safety standards for high-impact sports that have confirmed effects on behavior and impulse control? Or simply identifying the dangers?”
"Identifying the dangers," he said, smiling like it was obvious. "Nobody wants to hear about new safety standards. Especially not programs bringing in millions in revenue. My goal is to produce objective, quantifiable data on cognitive decline and behavioral risks—nothing more."
I felt sick, thinking about Shepherd and his teammates as money-makers for the university if there was no one really looking out for them.
"Besides,” Ethan went on. “Even when researchers prove a link between concussions and cognitive impairment, leagues like the NFL and NCAA barely blink. Liability scares them—but change? That scares them more. I’m not an activist, Celeste, and neither are you. We’re here for the science.”
Except, psychology—and the reason I got into it—was about the very thing that makes humans unique, our minds and emotions. Our capacity to make changes for the better based on research. I swallowed down any argument I might’ve made. “Got it.”
That night I tried to talk myself back into a positive state of mind as I walked to the apartment. I’d made my choices—all of them. And the outcomes were up to me. I had no one to blame, and it was time to turn things around and get focused.
Only, Shepherd’s eyes as I turned away from him were burned into my mind. Full of hurt and pain, like I was one more person who just didn’t care.
I dropped my bag inside the door and threw myself onto the couch, kicking off my shoes. As I scrubbed my face, trying to clear my head, Nat’s door opened and she stepped out in a huge T-shirt and tall socks, her hair in a comical pineapple bun flopped atop her head.
“Hey you,” she said. “Oh no.”
“Oh no?”
“Oh no is right. You look rough. What’s up?”
“Thanks,” I said as Nat took the seat beside me, pulling one leg up beneath her.
“This looks Shepherd-related. You talked to him? About the fight?” I had told Nat I wasn’t going to get involved. Right before I went to the rink.
“Kind of. I mean… I just wanted to see if he was okay.”
“He’s the one who threw the punches, from what I heard.” Nat’s eyebrow climbed, but then her expression softened.
“Yeah.” Why couldn’t I shake this guy? Why did I care when caring was the one thing holding me back from taking advantage of the opportunities in front of me? I let out a weary sigh.
“Listen, girl. I get it, I do. He’s hot, he’s broken in that dreamy yet unreachable way, and he looks at you like you’re fucking oxygen.” She let that sink in. “But you don’t have to be the girl who keeps trying to fix a boy who’s never been taught how to hurt without taking everyone around him down too.”
I swallowed down the lump in my throat, wishing Icould stop seeing Shepherd’s tortured gaze every time I closed my eyes. “I’m not trying to fix him.”
“Yes you are.”
“No, I just… I wish he wanted to be better. For himself. For someone…” I dropped my head into my hands, realizing how weak I sounded. “Is that stupid?”
