Page 74 of Shiver
But it doesn’t look like they’ve won a game in the last month. My heart sinks as I stare at the numbers: 3-6. I don’t understand it. Can Adak leaving the Coyotes really have fucked with them that badly?
“It’s depressing, isn’t it?” a feminine voice asks as she comes to stand next to me. I look at her, finding that she’s frowning at the stats board. “We were kicking ass. There was no way we were going to lose the Frozen Four this year.”
“What happened?” I ask.
She shrugs. “Depends who you ask. Coach Adak left. He was phenomenal. I hear his absence really put a damper on the team.”
“That’s not what happened,” another girl says, coming to stand next to her. A man stopped behind her, glowering at the board. “Egon Wolf lost his talent.”
“You don’t lose talent,” the first girl says, rolling her eyes.
I nearly don’t hear the rest of their exchange because my gut drops and I can’t catch a breath. I’m going to pass out.
“He’s notjustlost his talent,” the second girl insists, “but he’s also losing his scholarship since he’s failing everything else, too.” She sniffs and turns away, heading for the doors.
“I don’t know why we’re even here,” the guy says in irritation.
The first girl stares after them hotly. She looks at me and frowns. “Are you okay?”
I nod numbly and turn away. My feet carry me back to my apartment and I drop on the couch. That’s not true. None of that is true. Egon’s fine. He has to be. It’s been weeks since he texted me or knocked on my door. Weeks. He’s fine!
My body feels like it’s going to erupt. I’m not sure what it’s going to erupt with, but when it does, I think I’m going to fall apart into a hundred pieces that will never be put back together.
What have I done? This can’t be because of me. It’s been a month. It can’t be! He’s so much better than that. He’s got such a big heart. Egon is a good person.
Shaking my head, I stand and pull out a hoodie. His hoodie. The only thing of his that is still here. It’s a Coyotes hoodie with his number on the front. I pull a beanie and a scarf from the closet, then rush out of my apartment.
It’s not true. It’s not. I’m just going to see for myself that it’s not true! Egon Wolf is fine. He’s fucking perfect and fine!
Anger has me shoving the doors open and then roughly pulling the beanie over my head. I give my name, grateful that it’s still on the family and friends list from my uncle. I’d pay for the ticket, but it’s the spot I need to be in to see for myself that matters right now.
When I’m gestured to the stairs to move through, I wrap my scarf around my neck a little too tightly and let the freezing air claw at my skin for a second. I breathe it in, letting it sting my lungs.
Another loud ‘boo’ rises in the stands and the spectators are jeering. “Get him off the ice.” “Lame, Wolf.” “Why is he still on the team?”
I tense, ready to tear someone’s head off. Not sure how I restrain myself, I head for the box and slip into the empty family and friends section to stare onto the ice.
He’s there. Moving slowly. Absently. Seeing nothing.
The puck drops, and someone’s on the ground. One of his teammates. It’s enough that Egon pauses and stares for a minute, as if it takes his brain a second to catch up. When his teammate doesn’t move, silence falls over the arena.
A medic is called for and the team is pushed away so they can get to the player. I can’t see the number. Not that it would matter. It’s only Egon I’m staring at.
His team is gathered around, looking at the player. Egon is, too, but he’s standing at such an angle that I can make out his face.
He blinks slowly. His body is lax. His stick barely held in his grip.
I stand and slam my hand into the plexiglass of the board, trying to get his attention. He doesn’t hear me. No one does. So I do it again. Again and again and again.
“Fucking look at me, Egon,” I hiss under my breath.
The paramedics get the guy up, and there’s cheering. Egon smiles dully before turning away. I continue to hit the boards until he looks up. I freeze and his eyes gloss right over me. Swearing again, I hit the glass some more.
He turns away and then pauses. His shoulders tense and I wait. Egon turns slowly, his expression guarded. And our eyes meet. He does nothing but stand there and look at me.
Swallowing, he looks away for a second and closes his eyes. I watch as he shakes his head minutely, his mouth moving as if he’s saying something. Then he looks up and our eyes lock again.
I realize then that I’ve fucked up so badly that I’m not sure what to do at this point. His pain is loud, especially when he sees that I’m really here. The confusion and hurt and exhaustion are so bright in his eyes that I nearly choke on them.
