Page 99 of Breakaway

“Henshaw?” a voice said from behind. The entire lobby spun to take in the doctor. His eyes widened as the full force of the lobby rested on them.

“Yes,” Fletcher said, stepping forward first. “We’re her family.”

The doctor looked skeptical but apparently knew how to pick his battles and decided going up against a full lobby wasn’t one he wanted today.

“She’s awake and back from her scans. You can come back and see her now.”

The three of us took a step forward, and I wondered if the lobby had followed us as his eyes grew larger.

“Three at a time,” he croaked, stepping back.

I glanced over my shoulder, spotting Reese as they clung to Scar and Susie. I nodded for them to go in my place, but they shook their head.

“You go first. She’ll need you.”

I nodded, too selfish to offer twice. Dax waited for me at the door, and I clapped his arm as I passed. Fletcher was ahead with the doctor, talking with him about things. Dax and I took big steps to catch up, heading into the room I overheard Fletcher ask about a private room and doing anything else she might need.

“Hey,” Henley said the second we stepped in. “I feel like shit.”

“You don’t look much better.” I instantly grimaced, wishing I could take that back. Thankfully, Henley laughed, then groaned as she clutched her side.

“Don’t make me laugh. I’ve got two broken ribs.”

“Fucking asshole is dead if he gets out of jail,” Dax cursed as he picked up her hand. “Petal,” he sighed, holding her hand to his face. “I’ve never been so worried.”

“I’m fine, Dax. Just a little bruised.” She smiled at him, her brows creasing a second later. “Wait. Jail?”

I sat on the end of the bed, rubbing her leg. “Yeah. We just heard from Saint on the news that he was arrested. He aired the information just like you wanted.”

“Amazing.” She smiled, the action looking beautiful, even with the gash on her chin and chipped tooth.

“You were amazing,” I said, staring at her. “The asshole couldn’t take losing.”

“Wait. Does that mean I won?” she asked, hope blooming in her eyes.

“Yep. The puck sailed into the net just as you crashed into the ice,” Dax replied.

Henley grimaced. “Is it wrong I kinda want to watch it but also don’t?” she asked.

“I got it all on video if you ever do,” Fletcher said as he entered the room.

“Hey, Fletch,” Henley said, smiling at him. She lifted her other arm out for him to take.

“Baby.” He kissed her palm before taking the chair next to the bed. “Looks like you can get out of here once they get the result of one more scan back. I encouraged them to be speedy.”

“Thank you. I can’t wait to get out of this.” She gestured down to her torn and blood-soaked jersey, her under shirt the only thing keeping her from being exposed. I’d had to tear the jersey to remove her shoulder pads and skates at the arena, so at least she didn’t have two-inch blades strapped to her still.

“What did the doctor say?” I asked, knowing Fletcher would know.

“Ten stitches on her chin, two cracked ribs, lots of bruising, a possible hairline fracture in her radius, strained ligaments in the knees, and,” he paused, cupping his chin which I soon realized was to cover a smile. “You wouldn’t be a hockey player without a chipped tooth.”

“Seriously?” Henley groaned, running her tongue over one to see if she could feel it.

“At least you don’t seem to have a concussion. That’s a relief.”

“I’m amazed I don’t, but I guess my chin took the most impact of the crash.”

“Yeah, and you’ve got the scar to prove it.”

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