Page 131 of Hitting the Goal Line
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I hatedElijah Swanson last week and I fucking hate him even more today.
You would think after landing himself in the hospital with a broken jaw and facing charges for domestic violence, the fucker would go into hiding and not stir up any more shit.
But of course, that’s not what he is doing.
Instead, the asshole is trying to use whatever star power that I have, to his advantage. It doesn’t matter if I’m at the bottom of the fucking totem pole of famous athletes, he is doing anything he can to not only call Sophia’s story bogus but playing the victim. According to the article that my publicist sent me this morning, I have anger issues and don’t know how to control it.
Like fuck I do.
If I had anger issues, he would have gone to the hospital with a lot more than a broken jaw.
Not only is he trying to damage Sophia’s image, he’s also been giving me a daily reminder of how much I hate him.
In San Francisco, I knew that if the Knights didn’t cut me, then I sure wasn’t going to be seeing the ice anytime soonbecause of how my shoulder felt. I’ve had enough injuries in my life to know when something is wrong.
And something was definitely wrong with my shoulder.
The day after getting back from California, I reported to the Knights faculty and had the team doctors check me out. According to the team athletic trainer, when I punched the bastard, I hyperextended my shoulder.
I was hoping that they were going to tell me that it was just a small strain and I would be on the ice for the game against New York, but of course that wasn’t the case.
The injury was more in the moderate category, which meant I was going on the injured reserved list for a least two weeks. Which meant no home games against Arizona and New York, no away games in Arizona and Anaheim, no hockey whatsoever until I was cleared.
Every day, for those two weeks, I was reminded of that bastard’s face and how if he wasn’t such an asshole, I wouldn’t be watching my team play without me.
The one thing that makes all of this better, though, is Sophia.
Since we’ve been back from San Francisco, we’ve been trying to figure out what normalcy is now that we are together. Which hasn’t been hard since we already did so much together and shared an apartment. I think the hardest thing to figure out has been our sleeping situation.
The first night back in our apartment, we stood there for a good five minutes, trying to figure out what to do.
Eventually, I made the decision for us by picking her up and walking us to her room, where I explored every single inch of her body as if it were my first time.
Sophia and I may be living in bliss but we still have the cloud of Elijah, the charges and my shoulder injury hanging over our heads.
And hopefully today, one of those things will be an afterthought. What sucks, though, is the fact that it won’t be Elijah or the charges he’s facing. At the very least I’ll find out if I can hit the ice in two days or not.
I’m keeping my fingers crossed on hitting the ice. I don’t know how much more of this damn injury I can take.
And given the look on the team’s medical doctor, I’m going to guess it’s not what I might be hoping for.
“What do you think? Am I cleared?” I ask from where I sit on the table in the training room, eager to get out of here and put on my skates. I already missed enough games, I don’t want to miss any more.
“You been resting and doing those exercises that I told you do to?” Dr. Watson asks, coming over and moving my shoulder.
I nod give him a nod. “Yeah. My girlfriend is studying to be a nurse and she’s been keeping me in check.” I answer him.
It takes me a second to realize that this is the first time that I’ve called Sophia my girlfriend and it feels fucking good saying it. For years, I thought about what it would be like for her to have that title, of what it would feel like for her to officially be mine and now that she is, it’s like I won the cup all over again.
She was meant to be mine and I’m never letting her go.
“Good,” he states giving me a curt nod.
That doesn’t give me the answer I want.
“Please don’t tell me that you’re going to keep me out for another week,” I let out, almost sounding annoyed. I’m all for resting and getting better, but my shoulder feels fine and not even being able to skate is making me crazy. You would think that since this is a shoulder injury, I would be able to at least put on my skates and hit the ice, but no. My drill sergeant girlfriend and Watson told me to stay off skates until I’m cleared, because apparently I can fall and hurt myself even more. As if I didn’t professionally skate for a living.
