Page 8 of Puck'N Enemy
Why couldn’t I get through the damn pain? Why did I have to be so weak and let them carry me off the ice on a fucking stretcher?!
I punch the mattress, which causes my leg to shift.
Immediately, a jolt of pain goes through my knee and calf, making me let out a groan.
The doctors said it wasn’t broken. They determined it was a severe sprain along with a torn ligament in my calf.
“It could’ve been worse,” Dr. Cooper, the resident doctor, had told me. “You’ll be perfectly fine after a few weeks' rest. Sullivan won’t be forced to bench his favorite goalie, and the Knights will have a fighting chance to win the state championship.”
Could’ve been worse, Dr. Cooper’s words remind me of a dark memory I’d long buried.
I’d been seventeen and severely injured. My ribs were broken, my face and mouth bloody, and my legs swollen and bruised from multiple kicks.
Dylan had watched it all happen to me with that same stricken, haunted expression as the one he wore tonight when they carried me off the rink.
I squeeze my eyes shut, willing the ghost of Dylan Larson to leave me alone.
Someone suddenly pushes the door open. A chilly breeze blows in, carrying the scent of citrusy lemon.
I don’t even have to open my eyes to know who it is.
I can stillfeelDylan, like an old scar that still refuses to fade away.
Opening my eyes, I stare at the ghost from my past.
Now that the urgency of the game is gone, I take a closer look at him.
Dylan stands at the threshold, looking taller than I remember. He’s broader and rougher around the edges now. His hoodie is too big for him, the sleeves shoved up around tense forearms. Strands of his reddish auburn hair are still damp and messy, looking like he’s just taken off his helmet and come here.
For a second, my heart squeezes so tight, it obliterates the pain radiating along my left leg.
Fuck. Even though years have passed by since I last saw him, I miss him.
And that realization makes my anger snap back twice as hard.
“You’ve got some nerve showing up here,” I say, my voice raspy.
Dylan flinches as he meets my sharp gaze. He hesitates and continues to hover at the threshold, like he’s too afraid to walk into the room and face me.
Good. I want him to feel the anger and betrayal he left in his wake.
I shift, wanting to sit up straighter. The movement makes me hiss and gasp but I don’t care. I need to show him I’m not the same weak boy he left behind.
“Did you come here to finish the job?” I say, my voice thick with venom. “Or are you just here to watch me fall apart again?”
Dylan’s mouth opens, but nothing comes out.
His lips tremble while his lashes blink rapidly, like he’s trying not to cry.
What the hell does he have to cry about?
He’s the one who promised to be with me forever and then betrayed me in the worst way possible. He left me broken and vanished without a word.
The idiot that I was, I still believed in him and waited for him.
Years have gone by and it looks like I’m still waiting for him to give me an explanation for his betrayal.
“Say something!” I snap when Dylan stays frozen at the door. “Or is this part of your whole act?”
