Page 88 of All In: The Price We Pay

I feel too sick to say anything.

I can’t stand the thought of sitting out another game. “I have to get on the ice,” I spit out.

“Good grief, guys you’re acting like I told you your injuries are career-ending. I’ll discuss this with the coach. But if you’re asking for my medical opinion, and considering the circumstances, the conclusion is clear. It’s a luxury problem right now. You’ll break your record, Sinclair.” He nods at me. Dammit, as if that’s all that matters.

“Fuck,” I blurt out.

Munns and I stand up.

“Coach Denner will get in touch with you guys later.”

We nod. Every word I want to say doesn’t belong here, and Todd doesn’t need to put up with my anger.

“I don’t get why he doesn’t give me a shot to get me back in shape.” I say it more to myself than to Munns.

He lets out a gruff sound. “It’s all a fucking mess. Hopefully, the coach will tell him where he can shove his medical opinion.”

I’d rather not count on that. Todd has veto power, and judging by the way he just spoke, he won’t be swayed.

“Gym?” Munns glances at me questioningly.

“Yeah. I’m obviously done for the day.” Light ice training and physical therapy. No side to side movements; everything else is allowed. What a damn mess. My pent-up energy is boiling under my skin, desperate to burst out. I need to get on the ice and prepare for the game. But no, I’m not even on the roster for the game. “Maybe Coach will come back with better news.”

Munns snorts. “I have to go see Devon.” The goalie coach appears in the hallway just in time, and Munns walks over to him.

Without giving him another thought, I change and head to the gym. My thigh is taped up, and I’m not limping. Not at all. I’d rather cut off my leg than appear vulnerable.

If they think I have to sit this one out, I’ll make it clear to everyone that this is a completely overblown precaution.

At least this time I can watch the home game at the arena and am not confined to my own four walls.

My thoughts drift to Parker who is, after all, within those four walls. It would be easy to back down. But we’re not there yet. Somehow, I feel guilty that he’s at my place and I’m here. Dammit, as if all the other craziness isn’t enough, now I’m taking on these relationship problems too.

Focus, focus, focus.

I glance around and hesitate. What if Coach decides I’m playing after all? Maybe I shouldn’t wear myself out now. I want to scream. Am I going to sit here until I hear something so I can even decide what to do for my work out?

Shaking my head, I walk over to the bikes, set one up, and start warming up.

After fifteen minutes, the coach shows up. “I’ve been looking for you.”

I lift my head, not wanting to get my hopes up, preparing myself for a discussion.

“You’re out for today. I want you in top shape for the next away game. We’re not taking any risks. You’re too important,” he emphasizes. I’m torn between the comforting warmth of his praise and recognition and the frustration of spending yet another game on the bench.

“Okay,” I murmur. At least now I know what I’ll be doing for the next few hours.

“A press release for you and Munns is being prepared.”

All right.

I’m dripping with sweat. After cycling, I head to the weights. I’m afraid I’m going to throw up. I overdid it. But at least I’m no longer suffocating from my own energy. That’s important, since I still have a press conference ahead of me and I need to give halfway sensible answers.

My arms are as heavy as lead, and my legs can barely carry me.

That’s exactly how I want it to be. I need to feel myself, to be sure that I’m still here and not superfluous.

I turn around, unsure of what to do.