Page 40 of Tough Call

“I let them down,” I’d said, cradling my bandaged wrist in Connor’s bedroom. “They needed me.”

“You got hurt,” he’d corrected. “That asshole who slashed you is the one who fucked up.” He’d scowled hard. “I can’t believe he didn’t even get called for it.”

I’d laughed bitterly. “With all the shit they let slide tonight, I’m not even surprised.”

“Yeah, but he slashed you hard enough to fracture your wrist.” Connor made a disgusted noise. “That should’ve been a game misconduct.”

My shoulders sank. “Maybe we could’ve scored a few times while that asshole was in the box. Tied up the score and maybe won.” I sighed. “I hate that I couldn’t be there to fight with them.”

“Madars.” He wrapped his arms around my shoulders. “They fought hard. I think they fought even harder because they were pissed that you got hurt. If the officiating hadn’t been so fucking lopsided, you guys probably would’ve won.”

“So, fuck the refs?”

His laugh and his eyeroll made my world brighter than stadium lights. “Yes. Fuck the refs.”

In the present, I swiped at my eyes. The pain and frustration were making me emotional, I told myself, but I knew that was a lie. They weren’t helping, of course, but it was the reassurance and the encouragement from Connor that was making me crack.

I’d been so overwhelmed during my major junior days. The speed, the skill, the intensity—I’d thought I was ready, but it had been a lot. Whenever I got discouraged, though, Connor had never let me get far. He’d always known exactly what I needed to hear. Somehow, he’d always known how to get my focus back on the rails and silence my imposter syndrome.

And now here he was, all these years later, refusing to let me believe I’d let my team down or that I’d caused their morale to falter. They’d rallied and won. Some part of me questioned if that meant they’d been stronger without me, but I could already hear Connor’s voice.

“You had the game-winning goal twice in this series, you bonehead. They’d much rather have you there.”

God, I’d missed him so much.

That thought brought me up short. It was true, I’d thought about him a lot over the years, but it was only now, after crossing paths with him at the Games, that I realized just how much I’d missed him. I’d thought I was meeting up with an old friend, and then we’d let that innocent spark between us flare into something hotter, and now he was taking me back to those days when he always knew what I needed to hear.

Who was I kidding? He was what I needed to hear. And see. And touch. There was no chance in hell of sex before we left Prague, but was it too much to hope he might still want to see me? Even if I was a pathetic mess?

Only one way to find out.

I won’t be good for much. But can I still see you before we leave Prague?

The response was lightning fast.

Absolutely.

Let me know when you’re discharged.

I’ll be at the hotel for the rest of the night.

Are you doing okay?

Hurts a lot.

But I’m okay.

I didn’t add that it was his texts that made me okay. That the prospect of seeing him again soon, even when he knew he wouldn’t be getting laid, would carry me through this better than any painkiller ever would.

I put my phone down, closed my eyes, and pressed back against the gurney. Yeah, my time on the ice during the Games was over. I’d dropped off the NAL’s radar until I fully recovered and proved I was still as good as I’d been before my fall.

But everything suddenly didn’t seem as grim.

Because I’d see Connor again.

CHAPTER 15

CONNOR