Page 91 of Falling for the Orc All-Star

“Medic!” One ref shouts, skating over. Coach is gone. The ice is clearing.

I cast a desperate look back over my shoulder and see Ingrid’s white face, her mouth hidden behind her hands. I can read the horror on her face, but it’s nothing compared to the way Fia looks as she stands at the side of the rink.

Her camera dangles around her neck, one hand on her heart. One clutched protectively over her stomach.

Everything in me moves on instinct, the running, the jumping the divider, the skating out. I push off at high speeds and fall to my knees as I get close to the ring of people now surrounding an unmoving Bryce, so smooth that you’d never know I was injured, only a warning throb in my leg letting me know this maneuver is unwise.

I’ve done this move a hundred times after a winning goal. My hands are usually up in triumph. Now they’re outstretched, pushing refs aside so I can take a spot at Bryce’s side.

“Let’s get his helmet off.” One of the medics is undoing the chinstrap, but I just break it in half and pull—gently, scooting up to cradle Bryce’s head on my knees. “He has to be okay.”

“He’s going to be okay,” Coach says, but he’s pale, too. Bryce doesn’t go down.

Bryce was distracted.

Because Bryce knew his wife was here. And his baby.

“He has to be okay,” I repeat, looking desperately between the medics for some sort of reaction. “He’s got a wife. He’s... He’s going to be a dad.”

“He didn’t hit his head, I think— clear, everyone hands off!” One medic is suddenly pulling out a small red bag, and the other hoists Bryce’s shirt up. There’s a singe of burning fur, and Bryce roars.

In the stands, Fia lets out an answering scream, and I look over. Ingrid’s there. Arms around her.

“Double impact to the chest and back—Commotio Cordis, V-Fib. We’re gonna need an ambulance.”

“I’m okay. I’m okay.” Bryce’s groggy voice is the best sound ever. I gasp and wipe my eyes, and plant a kiss right on his forehead. “Hey. Pretty boy,” he smiles and slurs.

“Don’t you ever fucking scare me like that again, Furball,” I whisper.

“This player wasn’t wearing his chest padding. That’s a violation. There could be a fine—”

I snarl at the lecturing ref, and he coughs.

“But I think he’s learned his lesson.”

“He’s going to be okay, right?” I ask the medics.

“Thanks to this little portable heart starter, yeah. Commotio Cordis is rare and can point to some other issues, like heart valve issues or arrhythmia. It could also just be the fact that he got double-teamed while failing to wear his protective padding.”

“I’ll never let him go out without it again, I promise,” I make a vow, crossing my heart.

Coach looks at me. “Guess that means you have to stay on whatever team Bryce is on for the rest of his career, huh?”

I shrug and smile. “Sounds good.”

“Why am I lying down?” Bryce demands, voice slightly stronger.

“Because you almost died, idiot. You forgot your chest protector.”

“I did. Oh. Oh... Got something from Fia in my bag. Must’ve... forgot my chest protector.”

I roll my eyes. “I just said that.”

“Does Pine Ridge forfeit?” One of the refs asks.

“No, we’ll still play. Just let me get my player taken care of and we’ll sub in someone.” Coach rises as they load Bryce onto a stretcher. “Who do you think would be good to protect Villareal? He’s our second-best scorer, our best tonight, without you, and the Phantoms are playing hardball.”

I grin, a grin that Bryce and I have shared so many times.