Page 190 of Pucking Them
Frustrated, I whack the bed, but it’s unsatisfying because I don’t have enough strength to make much sound.
“Mike said that it was only a mild seizure, didn’t he?” I try to cut through my foggy memory of the few hours I spent in hospital. “Olivia overdosed me on those meds. I had a bad reaction to them but I just need to?—”
“Rest,” Eden insists. “Mike said you could come home, but you would still be recovering. You need to be monitored tonight.”
“I’m doing that,” Shay says. “It’s not like I’d be able to sleep anyway.”
I stare around at my partners, realizing that they’ve already talked about this.
Is this what they mean bycare?
No one has looked after me when I’ve been unwell since I was sent away by my family as a teenager. I’ve always looked out for myself, no matter if I had the flu or serious injuries.
I don’t know how to let someone do this for me.
I both hate and love it at the same time.
“I’m playing,” I growl.
“You’re following doctor’s orders,” Robyn replies, more firmly than I’m expecting. “No high-risk activities for the next twenty-four hours, which means contact sports.”
Devastation howls through me.
I must play the last game of the Conference Finals against Wilder. I haven’t missed a game all season. I can’t let everybody down.
I make another futile effort to push myself up. “I’m the Captain. My team needs me.”
“Weneed you alive and well,” Shay replies.
“Ganging up on me, I see. This is mutiny, Mr. Prince.”
“If it keeps you safe. Even if I tried to smuggle you onto the ice, it wouldn’t work. This time there was no hiding anything from coach. He’s been dealing with the fallout for the other staff members all day, while our Robyn has been doing the same with the press. Sorry, darlin’. Lineup has been posted. You’re out.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
Rebel Arena, Freedom
Robyn
“Score, score,fucking score.”D’Angelo’s piercing gaze is focused on Rebel Arena’s rink like the crowds, commentator, and press don’t exist — only the brutal game that has been unfolding in front of him that he can’t play in and instead, only yell at from the sidelines.
I stand next to Eden with his arm around me against the cold. I am dressed in my favorite violet dress and woolen coat, knowing that the press will be out in force tonight and focused on all of us.
Especially D’Angelo.
I clutch my hand around the phone in my pocket. It has barely stopped ringing for hours. I have been fielding hundreds of journalists, spinning the situation, and ensuring that this helps, rather than harms D’Angelo’s image.
I gave D’Angelo the choice of how much he wanted shielded from the public. Details that I knew he didn’t want exposed were sure to be leaked.
Yet he showed a bravery that made me glow with pride, when he offered to shareeverything.
“I’m not hiding.” D’Angelo tilted up his chin. “Olivia and Anderson don’t deserve to havetheirreputations protected. Everybody has seen me drunk, naked, and being fucked in every imaginable way. After photographs have already been published of me rocking nothing but my22hockey jersey but in the 69 position between two mascots, my image isn’t the one that will be ruined.”
My eyes lit up. “How did I miss that photograph? I need to find it to add to our Guide.”
“The point is, cara mia, I have no shame. Also, I’m not ashamed of my past. I accepted who I am a long time ago. As long as Noah’s identity and dynamic are kept private, I’m happy. Noah phoned me this morning.”
I glance at Noah.
