Page 42 of Power Play

“I have a bad feeling about this,” I mutter, and Riley chuckles, but her smile doesn’t reach her eyes.

“She’ll be fine.”

It feels like a year before we’re called back and shown to an exam room. A nurse in dark purple scrubs takes Emmy’s vitals while she screams and screams. Nothing we do can calm her down. She’s red in the face, her cheeks streaked with tears as she fights against the nurse.

My own eyes well up. My baby is in pain, she doesn’t feel good, and I can’t do anything to make her better. I’m useless.

Riley answers the nurse’s triage questions, which is good, because I wouldn’t know the first answer. I’ve been busy all day with the game; I haven’t spent time with Emmy since I left the house at nine o’clock this morning.

For the first time in my life, I think I hate being a hockey player. Especially if it means I can’t be there for my kid, for my family.

“I should quit my job,” I tell Riley.

She blinks at me. “What are you talking about?”

“I should retire. That way I won’t miss out on Emmy’s life. I’ll be there if she gets hurt or sick.”

“You love hockey. It’s your life,” she says.

“But Emmy is more important.”

Her laughter is tinged with mania. “She’ll be fine. She probably has a cold. You can’t freak out about this.”

“I—”

“She’s a baby. Kids get sick. They get hurt. It’s part of life. You can’t put yours on hold. You have to live your life, too.”