Page 40 of Full Body Hit, Part 1 (Alpha Omega Hockey #5)

AUSTON

A uston lay on the padded table in one of the medic rooms, trying not to let an Alpha growl out.

What a fucking shit show of a game. They’d not just lost, but gotten absolutely brutalised out there.

Three fucking injuries on their side, including Auston being slammed into the boards at a weird angle and tweaking his hip.

He closed his eyes, eyelids orange from the fluorescent lights. This had better just be a tweak. He didn’t know what he’d do if the last season of his career ended early due to an injury.

He just wanted to make it to the finish line on two feet. Live in the illusion that he was leaving by choice, not necessity.

He flinched as the door opened, turning as the team doctor, Sal, entered.

“How are you feeling?” Sal asked.

“You tell me,” Auston grunted.

“Well, we think it’s just a strain. We’re going to send you to the hospital for imaging, but I don’t think it’s too serious.”

Relief washed through him, leaving him jittery with the aftermath of adrenaline. “Shit, okay. That’s good.”

“The paramedics are gonna be here in a sec. They had to take Chase first.”

“Oh, right. How’s the kid doing?” Auston asked. Chase had taken an elbow to the head ten minutes before Auston was escorted off the ice. Had hit the ice hard when he’d gone down.

“Definitely a concussion. We just want to make sure there’s no bleeding.”

“Shit. Okay, no problem. I can wait.”

It had been an evening game at home, so by the time Auston was taken to the hospital, gotten checked out, and given the all-clear that nothing was cracked or broken, it was nearing two in the morning.

One of the team medics helped him into a wheelchair. They already had crutches for him thanks to his measurements being on file, but the wheelchair was protocol.

To his surprise, Noah was waiting outside, suit dishevelled and hair all over the place. “Hey, man. How you feeling?”

“Fine. Just strained something. I’ll be good to go in a couple of games.”

“Yeah, about that. Chase has a concussion, don’t know if you’ve heard.”

“Yeah, the doc told me,” Auston replied, unsure why that was relevant.

“Well, we’re off for the road trip tomorrow, and he lives alone…”

Auston managed not to sigh. Concussion protocol dictated the person be accompanied for the next few days, and since Auston was staying in New Orleans due to his hip, he was probably the only one available to avoid having the kid stay in the hospital.

“Yeah, sure. He can come home with me. He got stuff with him?”

Noah smiled, looking insultingly relieved. Auston knew he hadn’t been the nicest to Chase, but he wasn’t about to leave a teammate hanging like that. “Sammy went and got some stuff. He’ll meet us at yours. I can drive you and Chase there.”

“Sounds good,” he muttered. Thank fuck he lived in an apartment with an elevator and plenty of guest rooms.

Chase was in the car when they got there, curled up against the window with his eyes closed, sick bag in his hand in case he hurled. Auston slid into the back seat too, ready to be vigilant in case anything happened.

He eyed the Omega, surprised that his scent wasn’t acrid with pain. Jesus, how fucking good was this kid at keeping his scent in check?

He got snagged on the thought, something niggling at the back of his mind, squirming too quickly for him to catch.

Noah drove smoothly, parking the car outside Auston’s apartment building. Sammy was waiting by the front door, hurrying to Chase’s side, and they all went up, Auston refusing Noah’s help.

He had his damn crutches. He was fine.

They kept the lights low even when they entered into the apartment, and Auston lead the procession to one of the guest rooms.

Sammy helped Chase to the bed. He glanced at Auston and Noah, tilting his chin in a shooing motion. “Can you give us a sec? I wanna help him change.”

Auston nodded, retreating to the kitchen. “You want something to drink?” he offered Noah to be polite.

“Nah, I’m good.”

Sammy came out a couple of minutes later, mouth pulled into a thin line. “Thanks for looking after him,” he said, but his voice was flat, devoid of any actual gratitude.

Auston was too tired to dissect that. The pain meds were getting to his head. He just wanted to go to bed and pass out. “Yeah, no worries.”

Sammy shifted from one foot to another, opening his mouth as if he wanted to say something else, but he just nodded.

Noah looked between them. “Okay. We’ll get out of your hair, I guess.”

“Sure,” Auston agreed.

Sammy paused by the entrance. “Update me tomorrow on how he’s doing, yeah? He won’t be able to use his phone for a while. And…just, you know. Try not to…just be gentle with him. Please.”

Auston frowned. What the fuck did Sammy think Auston was gonna do? Scream at the kid for having a concussion?

Whatever . He didn’t have the strength to argue. “Sure.”

With that, the two disappeared, leaving the apartment dark and silent.

Auston shuffled back to the kitchen, pouring two glasses of water and leaving one behind. He took the other to the guest room, crutch under the opposite armpit. He knocked perfunctorily on the cracked-open door. “Got you some water,” he whispered.

“Sorry,” the kid replied.

Auston blinked. “For what?”

“For…sorry for making you take care of me.”

Auston set the glass on the bedside table. A strip of light fell on the bed, just barely illuminating the grimace on Chase’s face, the way he was curled up and so, so small.

Something strange gripped his guts, squeezing them, digging in. “You don’t have to apologise. It’s not a problem,” he assured even though the first emotion that had flared up when he heard he’d have to babysit the kid had been annoyance.

Chase made an uncertain sound but said, “Thanks. I, um. I like the picture on the wall.”

Auston turned to look at the blown-up photo of one of his cup wins, him holding the trophy over his head, face split in the widest smile he’d ever sported.

How the fuck the kid could see it in the low light with his concussion was a goddamn mystery.

“Oh, thanks. That was…my tenth year I think.” He’d won in back-to-back years, so the memories were a little mixed up.

“No, that was your eleventh,” Chase mumbled.

Auston whipped his head to the side, then back to the picture. Shit, the kid was right. “Oh, yeah. How the hell’d you know that?”

Chase let out a distant, breathy laugh, pain meds and concussion obviously making him hazy.

“I was like your biggest fan,” he whispered, the edges of his words slurring.

“You were my favourite player. Was so…so excited when I…” he trailed off, apparently falling asleep, leaving Auston wondering what he’d been so excited about.

The thing around Auston’s stomach clenched down painfully. “Oh.”

He stared at Chase’s face, a frown still dipping his eyebrows even though he’d dozed off.

Auston hobbled out of the room, heart so loud it filled his head with static.

Auston wasn’t prone to guilt. He said and did what he meant, lived by his morals. He could be a dick, sure, but only to people who deserved it.

Or so he thought.

He made it to the kitchen, taking his phone out of his pocket and leaning on the counter. There were no messages from Charlie despite the fact that Auston had texted him earlier in the evening. It was late, though—Charlie was probably asleep.

Auston swallowed, the back of his throat tasting like bile.

You’ve built something…a legacy . That was what Charlie had said, and Auston agreed. He’d worked fucking hard for two decades in order to make something of himself. To be part of a team.

And yet there he was, throwing an extended tantrum because it was coming to an end for him but not for others.

What the fuck had the kid ever done to him, really? So what if he didn’t get upset easily. That wasn’t exactly an excuse for Auston to use him as his punching bag.

“Fuck,” he muttered, running his hand down his face. It was pathetic, how he’d been acting all these months. That Sammy had been reticent to leave Chase with him despite not having another option.

Be gentle with him . It was a goddamn joke that Auston, at thirty-seven years of age, had to be told not to fuck with someone in the midst of a concussion.

He checked his phone again. No messages from Charlie. He opened their thread, scrolling through it unseeingly.

What would his baby say if he knew the truth?

Charlie was dealing with a shitty coworker who might as well have been Auston, if he thought about it.

He felt nothing but anger and disgust towards whatever fucking Alpha that dude was, picking on someone like Charlie, but wasn’t he doing something similar?

Auston’s sister would fucking laugh at the fact that he was so emotionally stunted that he needed some sort of guilt-ridden apology to figure this shit out.

He sighed, leaning away from the counter, ignoring the way his hip twinged. There was no point in thinking about it more. He needed to go to sleep.

Hopefully, he’d be a better man the next day.

***

There was a voice memo from Charlie waiting for Auston when he woke up.

“Hey,” Charlie whispered. “Sorry, my screen is cracked. No texting. Can’t use my phone much.”

Auston’s rib cage expanded, letting him take a deep breath. It was stupid to think Charlie had somehow figured out what an asshole Auston was and dumped him.

He sent a voice message back. “No worries, baby. You up for talking on the phone today?”

Another message pinged a few seconds later. “Phone won’t be up to that today. Call you when I can?”

“Whenever you want. Got a few days off.”

“Miss you, Daddy. Gonna suck not texting.”

“Miss you too, baby. I’m here when you want me.”

Charlie hearted the message.

Auston smiled. Okay. He could face the day now.

He groaned as he sat up, hip stiff and aching. Goddamn fucking body failing him every few months. He swallowed a couple of pain pills—over-the-counter stuff, he generally tried to stay away from the addictive shit—and got up.