Page 79 of Pucking My Grumpy Roommate
"What did Dennis say?"
"That you were exactly what Stone needed—someone who speaks his language but in an entirely different dialect."
I wasn't sure what to make of that, but didn't have time to analyze it because Austin had the puck, cutting through the neutral zone with surprising speed for a defenseman. He fed a perfect pass to the center, who one-timed it into the net.
The goal horn blared, and I screamed so loudly my throat hurt. Austin's teammates mobbed him, thumping his back and helmet as the crowd roared.
"Primary assist! That's his first point back!" Sarah explained unnecessarily, as if I hadn't been tracking every statistic of Austin's career for weeks.
Pride bloomed in my chest. This was his world—ordered chaos, physicality tempered by strategy, team dynamics balanced with individual skill. So different from my sterile lab, yet somehow familiar in its complexity.
Then it happened.
Second period, Austin pinned against the boards, digging for the puck. An opposing player—number 76, Seattle—charging full-speed. The collision was sickening, Austin's head snapping back, his body crumpling to the ice.
Time stopped. Everything around me faded to white noise.
"Get up," I whispered, clutching Sarah's arm so tightly she winced. "Please get up."
Austin lay motionless for what felt like hours but was probably only seconds. The medical staff approached. My scientific brain cataloged all the worst possibilities: concussion, re-torn ACL, broken collarbone.
"Come on, Austin," I murmured, my voice breaking. "You didn't do all that fucking rehab to go out like this."
Then, like something from a movie, he moved. Pushed himself up. Shook off the trainer's help.
The crowd erupted again, but I couldn't cheer, couldn't even breathe properly. My body felt hollow with relief, then flooded with something so intense it brought tears to my eyes.
This was more than caring. More than falling in love.
This was the terrifying realization that Austin Callahan had become essential to me—as vital as oxygen, as necessary as my next heartbeat.
"He's okay," Sarah said, squeezing my hand. "Stone's tough as hell. He wouldn't stay down unless something was really wrong."
I nodded, not trusting my voice. Austin skated back to the bench, moving well but with a tightness in his shoulders I recognized from his worst rehab days.
"Ladies," a voice interrupted. I looked up to see an older woman smiling down at us. "Mind if I join you? I'm Elaine Martinez, Coach's wife."
"Of course," Sarah moved over, making room. "This is Kate, Stone's girlfriend."
"The scientist," Elaine said, smiling warmly as she settled beside me. "My husband mentioned you. Said you were explaining bacterial resistance to Dennis using hockey terminology."
I felt my cheeks heat. "It seemed like the most effective communication approach."
"Smart woman. These hockey boys only understand things if you relate it to the game." She patted my knee. "So, how are you finding your first game?"
"Terrifying," I admitted. "I've dissected cadavers with steadier hands than I have right now."
"That's love, honey." She chuckled. "Twenty-six years with James, and I still get heart palpitations every time someone takes a run at one of his players."
The third period was pure tension—Austin playing through what was clearly pain, though only I seemed to notice the subtle difference in his skating. When the final buzzer sounded with Minnesota up 3-2, the arena erupted, and I found myself hugging Sarah and Elaine like we were old friends.
"First win is the sweetest," Elaine said, giving me a knowing smile. "Now comes the waiting part. The boys will be a while with media and cool-down."
"I don't mind waiting," I replied, which was true. I'd wait all night if necessary to see Austin, to confirm with my own hands and eyes that he was truly okay.
We made our way to the family waiting area outside the locker room. It was like a bizarre socialite gathering—beautiful women in team gear that somehow looked fashion-forward, children running around in miniature jerseys, all ofthem completely at ease in this world that still felt foreign to me.
"Dr. Ellis? Kate Ellis?"
