Page 57 of Shutout
“Thanks, Doc,” Brooke says far too loud. “I really appreciate you.”
He and I wince as the old man chuckles the whole way out the door.
Brooke, in his full uniform sans bucket, gloves, or jersey, leans back against the closed locker. His hair is damp and matted against his head. He looks a bit tired, probably from an adrenaline crash. It’s a look I’m very familiar with myself. The doctor taped up a strip of gauze that takes up Brooke’s right cheek from just under his cheekbone to his jaw.
My chin starts trembling and Brooke lifts his hand like he wants me to hold it. I cross the locker room and when I grab his hand, he pulls me to sit on his left side, where I can’t see the gauze.
His head rolls over so he can look at me. “It’s really not that bad. Just five little stitches. Doc just didn’t have a smaller gauze.”
I sag a little. “But it looked so bad.”
“I’m a bleeder. Remember when I scraped my knee in the fifth grade?”
I frown, observing how his massive hand seems to swallow mine up. Lacing our fingers together hurts a bit because his are so much wider, but I wouldn’t let him go for the world.
“That was your fault,” I murmur absentmindedly. He’d been chasing me with a frog, which I absolutely hate. He got what was otherwise coming to him via my fist.
His thumb runs across the back of my hand. “And it didn’t even leave a scar. So I’m sure this will be the same.”
My strength gives out and I lean on him, my head resting on his stinky shoulder pad. “I’m sorry. I should be the one comforting you, not the other way around.”
“You are.” His voice is feather soft. “You braved Coach Green to make sure I was okay. That’s… wow.”
I bite my lip. “That—That’s what friends do, right?”
For a long moment, the only sound comes from the whirring of the ventilation system. And then he sighs.
“Anyway, I’m out for the rest of the night and I was gonna watch the game from the bench, but I’m actually not feeling so hot now.”
Gasping, I pull away to observe him more clearly. He doesn’t look particularly pale. His eyes are bright. But you never know.
“Are you on concussion protocol? Should I find the Doc? Or?—”
“Shhh. Take a deep breath for me, Olivia.” I do, and he mimics me for three more breaths until he nods and continues. “No, I’m just in a lot of freaking pain right now and I want to ice my face. Can you drive me home?”
“Yes. Of course.” I jump to my feet and freeze when a car doesn’t magically appear before me. And now he’s fighting hard against a smile. “Don’t laugh, you could rip out the stitches.”
“Right.” Brooke braces his hands against his knees and stands up. He’s normally a head and a half taller than me, but he’s truly a giant while on his skates. He doesn’t notice how weak in the knees I am because he turns to yank his locker open. After rummaging, he comes back with a car key. “Can you warm it up while I shower? Unless…” He lifts his eyebrows. “You wanna see me get naked?”
I whirl around. “I’ll wait for you in the parking lot. And don’t get your face wet.”
“Sure.”
I duck my head even though he can’t see my blush from the back. On my way out I mutter, “Pervert.”
And only when I’m sitting in his ginormous pickup that smells like his expensive cologne does my mood change. Once I deliver him to his place, I’m going to kill him for scaring me like this.
CHAPTER 21
BROOKLYN
Olivia gives me one last withering glare over her shoulder, and slams my bedroom door with so much force that it rattles the wall.
I think… she’s mad at me.
A tense silence took over the entire drive from the St. Cloud home arena to the Bolt House. I could tell by the way her expression gradually hardened, how her knuckles grew whiter as she gripped the steering wheel, and by how she refused to meet my eyes, that she moved well past the worry stage and into anger.
I kept my mouth firmly shut, first, because it hurt less than opening it, and second, because anything that could spill out of it would only make her angrier. I can’t help but feeling like I won the lottery seeing her react so strongly. The pain’s worth it to know she cares this much.
