Page 91 of Goalie Secrets

I try to stay awake. The paramedics will have questions. I need to answer them. But dizziness tugs at me like an undertow. My grip on reality slips, the edges of the world folding inward. As the darkness closes in, one thought breaks through the haze, unrelentingly clear.

Jeremy.

His name crashes into my mind like an uninvited guest, dragging with it the weight of everything I’ve left unsaid.

The nurse strides in, her bright smile firmly in place. “You’re all set,” she chirps. “Ready to get out of here?” She’s friendly, maybe a little flirty, as she grazes my leg from the foot of the hospital bed.

“Yeah,” I grumble, sitting up and swinging my legs over the side.

“If you need anything,” she adds coyly, “let me know. I’m here until seven.”

I nod but don’t engage. The last thing I want is small talk or unnecessary fussing.

Blake is leaning against the wall, not bothering to hide his amusement. As soon as the nurse leaves, he mutters, “Dude, you couldn’t have shut her down harder if you’d tried.”

I glare at him. “Did you get Vanya’s number yet?” I hadn’t bothered memorizing Vanya’s number because, honestly, who does that anymore?

He shrugs. “Sabrina’s got it locked down tighter than a bank vault. She said she’ll pass along my number. Vanya will call if she feels like it.”

“If shefeelslike it,” I mutter, running a hand through my hair. Sabrina is practically a human firewall.

Blake claps me on the shoulder. “Relax, man. She’ll call you eventually.”

He wasn’t around when Vanya stormed out. Maybe she’s already raising hell about my diagnosis. Of course she’s avoiding me. She’s busy ruining my career, after all.

The sting of her words returns.I’ll fight for you. Against Kyle.Against the Mavericks. Against the damn league.

Stubborn, beautiful woman. I’m mad at her for talking about me like I don’t know my own body, but I’m even madder at myself for accusing her of something so vile as using me for her career. It’s more complicated than that. If only we could talk one more time before she raises hell, I’m sure we can sort things out.

Kyle walks in. I brace myself for a second round of disagreements. Instead, he smiles.

“Ready to get out of here?”

“More than ready,” I reply.

He flips through his notes. “We’ve done the imaging, and there’s no structural damage that we can see. Take it easy for the next week. No heroics. You can start skating lightly during practice sessions, but I don’t want you pushing till at least another week.”

“OK,” I say slowly. “Did you, um, did you talk to Vanya?”

Kyle eyes me for a second, his expression carefully neutral. “Not since I told her you’re here. She came by, right?”

I stiffen. “Yeah, she came around.”

“And?”

“She’s overcautious, if you know what I mean.” I’m not about to tell him that Vanya stormed out of here furious.

“She’s been incredibly worried. I mean, she got here even before I did.”

“Vanya doesn’t get it, Kyle. The demands of hockey, she’s too cautious. It’s getting in my head and I—”

“Say no more. If it isn’t working out, we can take her off your case.”

I consider his words and wonder if that would be for the best. “Maybe for a little while.”

“I’ll talk to her today,” Kyle assures me.

Do I want to think about Vanya chewing off Kyle’s head during that conversation? No. No, I do not.