Page 20 of Down to Puck

“You can’t take another hit to the head, Emerson.” She squares her shoulders. “You got away easy this time. Seizures, memory loss, cerebral contusions— the dangers of a traumatic head injury like this go on and on.”

There’s tight pain in Yasmín’s voice. She isn’t just handing out a diagnosis. The tears in her dark eyes give away the truth. Yas is telling me my career is over.

“One bad shot and it’s all over. If you get back on the ice, you’ll be a ticking time bomb, Emerson.” I wonder if Yasmín knows that there are tears streaming down her face. “I don’t know what I’d do if something happened to you.”

Yasmín launches herself at me, wrapping me in a tight hug that says everything. When she settles next to me again, I blow out a long breath.

“What can I do?” Dread tightens my voice. “Tell me there’s a plan.”

Yasmín shoves a handful of hair off her face.

“Well, the biggest thing you need is time.” Her voice is steady again, even if her lip trembles. “Given enough of it, you could completely recover. But even a small injury in the meantime could end your career— or worse.”

I let her words sink in.

“I’m sorry, Emerson.” Yas puts a hand on my chest.

I take a deep breath, trying to still my pounding heart.

“I am too. I’m not done, you know?” I look at her. “There’s so much I still want to do. I want to win the Cup with this team. Seal a few more records. And now you’re telling me that might all be over?”

Yas shakes her head again, harder. There’s fire beneath her dark eyes, heat layered behind her tears.

“I can’t make the decision for you, Emerson. But—” She jabs me in the chest. “I’m telling you that if you don’t listen to your doctor— if you don’t take the time to heal— you’re putting your career, your team, and your life at risk.”

Emotions churn through me— anger, disappointment, grief, fear.

“I don’t suppose there’s a chance you’re being overly cautious, Doc?” I look up hopefully.

Her smile is understanding.

“I can get you a second opinion— send out for a few more doctors.” She shrugs. “But any other physician would be obligated to bench you.”

I swallow hard.

Then I lean forward and capture her lips in a desperate kiss. Yasmín’s arms wind around my neck, her hands tangling in the short crop of my hair. She kisses me back, sweet and salty from our tears.

“Alright. I guess I’m riding the bench for the rest of the season.” I blow out a long breath. “Talk to me about specifics, Doc. Can I still practice? I think I’ll go crazy if I can’t.”

Yasmín grabs me in another fierce hug.

“Thank you,” she murmurs against my ear.

“For what?” I kiss the top of her head.

When she looks back up at me, Yas is smiling.

“For not being a stubborn asshole when it counts,” her laugh dissolves into a quiet sob. “I was so afraid that I’d lose you after I just found you. I thought— I was worried you’d choose the game you love.”

Her concern is a tangible thing. I feel the depth of Yasmín’s emotion in every word.

“Hey,” I kiss the tears from her cheeks. “Hockey is a game. A game I like a whole lot. But you’re more than a game, and I more than like you. You’re the woman I love, Yas. The life I want to build is with you.”

This time our kiss isn’t as gentle. It’s urgent, needy. I check with my fingers to make sure she’s wet, but I barely pull away before she’s straddling my lap and sinking down onto me.

We stay there, rocking back and forth with soft kisses and gentle words. I don’t know how long we make love like that, but I know it’s what we both need. There are no words, no games, no pretense. Only raw, passionate love.

“Take tomorrow off. Call in sick, for me?” I ask after we’re spent and tangled in each other.

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