Page 25 of Securing the Pucking Rebound

I have no idea what it is. Sometimes I think there’s a pattern to it, and then other times, it’s just random. And I think that possibly annoys me more than the noise itself.

The next two days are just as crazy, and just as Savvy tells us she’s starting to feel better, I start to feel worse.

“Nooo,” I cry as I climb out of bed, my entire body aching. “I don’t have time for this.”

Before leaving my apartment, I load up on medication, and then I stop on the way and buy myself a smoothie that’s loaded with vitamin C to go alongside my morning coffee, convinced that I’m going to be able to bat it away before it really settles in.

But as the day goes on, my confidence dwindles.

“I think I’m ill,” I finally confess when we’re finishing up for the day.

They all give me sympathetic looks but refuse point blank for me to hang around. “Go home,” Lessy instructs. “We’ll finish up here.”

“I’ll be in tomorrow,” I promise. Savvy hasn’t confirmed whether she’ll be back in, and there’s no way they’ll cope if I’m out, too.

“Go and rest. Decide in the morning. We’ll deal with whatever we need to.”

“I’ll be in,” I repeat, but there’s no strength in my words.

“Go,” they say in unison, giving me little choice but to grab my stuff and head home.

When I step into my building, the adrenaline that kept me going all day finally wears out. Putting each foot in front of the other physically hurts, and as I lift my key to unlock my front door, my chest is burning from walking down the long hallway.

I don’t bother with food; even if I were hungry, I don’t have the energy to order any, let alone cook. Instead, I strip out of my work uniform, drag on an old, soft pair of sweats and an oversized hoodie, and crawl under the covers.

I’m hot for a few minutes, but just when I’m about to pull the hoodie off, the chills start.

I snuggle up into a ball as it rolls through my body like a wave of ice, goose bumps pricking my skin and the shivers getting more intense.

Thankfully, it only lasts for a few minutes before I begin to warm again.

I drift in and out of sleep over the next few hours, only interrupted by my fluctuating body temperature and the occasional need to blow my nose.

When I wake again, it’s dark, but my apartment is no longer silent. My neighbor is home, and I don’t know if it’s because my head already hurts or if I’m just more irritable than usual, but the noise seems to be louder and more obnoxious. And tonight, it’s not just the music or the thudding; it’s both.

I groan, flipping onto my back and throwing the covers off as the body sweats take over. I glare at my ceiling silently, willing them to accidentally take a stumble and fall right out their window. But no matter how hard I try to manifest it, it never happens.

With my irritation levels growing, I force my aching body from my bed and storm toward my front door with one mission in mind.

This is annoying as fuck on a normal night. But when I’m dying…no. Just fucking no.

Despite it only being one floor above, I take the elevator, and in only a few moments, I’m standing in front of their door and knocking as loudly as I can.

Nothing.

I roll my eyes. Of course.

Curling my fist again, I slam it against the door. But still. Nothing.

Glancing around, I find something I missed when I first approached. A bell.

With fire racing through my veins—literally; I’m burning so hot I’m sweating bullets—I jab my finger against the button.

9

CALVIN

Sweat rolls off me as I lift weights heavier than I’m used to. I’ve already done my rehab at the arena today, but it’s not enough. If I’m going to keep my spot on the roster, I can’t let things slip. My leg might be out of commission right now, but that doesn’t mean that the rest of me shouldn’t be in better condition than ever.