Page 176 of Pucking Them
I struggle to focus, despite the waves of nausea that are rolling over me, causing me to shiver.
My suit is crumpled. My eyes are painted with deep shadows. I am hot and sweaty.
I ache from shoulder to hip with the deep bruises, which I earned with every single one of the collisions in the game yesterday. Yet I wouldn’t give up that pain because Wilder and his players believed that they could bully me, taking their revenge. They tried to use violent tactics to win. Instead, myloyal team banded together using sheer talent and teamwork to kick the Penguins’ asses.
Except, it wasn’t because of being slammed into the boards that I’d been dizzy throughout the game and my knees buckled in the locker room afterward.
It was in the hotel room, when instead of playing out the fantasy scene as a reward like I’d hoped, Eden called the private doctor, and I reached for my new meds.
Then I hesitated.
Vivid nightmares. Dizziness. Sickness.
I’ve only experienced a reaction like this once before, when I was a teenager trapped in the Discipline School. They were testing out a range of meds on me for my OCD. One of them made my mind and heart race too fast.
The professionals didn’t bother to explain the side effects to me.
I don’t know which ones I reacted so badly to. But surely Olivia knows because she has access to my notes.
I don’t trust her.
What if she didn’t read my notes properly? Could she have accidentally given me the wrong one?
I feel off.
Something is really wrong.
I know my body better than anyone, especially since I trained to become a dom. Yet I feel like I have lost control of it, as much as my mind is spiraling.
I can’t play the next game tomorrow like this. Except, I can’tnotplay it.
If we win, then the Bay Rebels will have reached the Stanley Cup Final.
I’ll have saved the team. I’ll have destroyed Wilder.
The private doctor didn’t know what was wrong with me either.
I clench my jaw.
This is notpsychosomaticorexhaustion.
I fucking don’t accept it.
Despite Michael’s sternness over the phone, I don’t have time to go to hospital for tests.
Not yet.
Robyn, Shay, and Eden are waiting for me outside, possibly by the rink, probably as nervous as I am.
Robyn told me that they have an entire day of pampering planned for when we return home, but none of them wanted to leave me alone.
If not for Olivia’s rules, they’d be crowded around this table in her office with me.
I sprawl in my chair opposite Olivia in the center of the office, angled across a low table.
Olivia is wearing a suit in the team colors. Her blond hair tumbles over her shoulders.
She arches her brow. “Is this about your need for control? This is my office. You don’t give the orders here. Or is this a power play like you showed in your game against Wilder? It must have been a thrill to destroy your partner’s rival like that publicly. Did you call this extra session with me because you’re riding on a high and want to pull the same trick with me?” She studies me with an unsettling intensity. “It doesn’t work like that. Possibly, I will need to start an official assessment for?—”
