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"If it’s any consolation, I will die one day, Eli zabeth."

Beth Bowen

That was the single most terrifying thing I’ve ever seen.

James getting slammed against the boards, then lying motionless on the ice as the medics rushed onto the scene.

I’m still shaking when the entire arena claps and cheers their support as James is evacuated on a stretcher.

I haven’t been to many hockey games, but I’ve never seen this happen.

The players usually get back up right away after a hit.

The thought that they sometimes can’t never really occurred to me.

They look so strong, almost i nvincible with all that gear on.

But beneath the pads and helmets, they’re just men. Humans.

And now, James is on that stretcher, and it’s all because of me. He and Lucas have been at each other’s throat since the game started, and the hits became more and more intense.

“I’m going to the hospital,” I tell the girls, my throat suddenly dry. “You all can stay and watch the rest of the game.”

“No, we’ll come with you,” Marissa says, standing up.

I nod, and we gather our stuff.

“That was a hard hit,” Hayley says in a quiet voice as we’re leaving our seats. “Crap. I really hope he’s okay.”

My heart clenches tight, and I feel the air drain from my lungs. “Me too.”

We walk up the stairs toward the exit, and we’re almost at the top when the referee announces that they’re reviewing the hit for a possible match penalty.

We hurry out of the arena, but it takes us forever to flag down a cab.

Finally, we pile into one. And after fifteen excruciating minutes of weaving through the city, we reach the hospital.

We barge into the emergency room, quickly finding the team’s doctors.

It’s a good thing Marissa came along. She knows every single Raptor s staff member and found them right away.

“They’re looking at him now, but I suspect a broken nose,” says Barry, the older doctor, as he hitches his thumb in his pocket.

“I also think he has a mild concussion, but he should be healed up within a few weeks,” adds Clark, a younger doctor, before excusing himself to go talk to the nurse.

Soon, more Raptors staff flood into the room, including Jenna from PR and a few others I don’t recognize. The wait is unbearable. We sit in the waiting room, and every time I close my eyes, images of the hit resurface. Dang it. Why didn’t he just listen to me? I told him to forget it.

Marissa and a few other staff members are watching the game on their phones, but I never want to hear a thing about hockey again. Instead, I pace around the room, anxious for the moment the doctors give us some news.

After what feels like an eternity, a doctor finally comes into the waiting room, and we gather around.

“Mr. Adler is alert and responsive,” he says, and there’s a general sigh of relief.

“He has a minor nose fracture that I already tended to, and he suffered a mild concussion, but there doesn’t seem to be any additional injuries to the head.

I’m still waiting for the CT results to come up.

Right now, we have him on medication for t he pain, and he’s getting some rest.”

“Can I see him?” I ask, and everyone turns to look at me. My cheeks flush, but my determination doesn’t falter. “Please, just for a minute. I’ll be quick.”

The doctor glances at Barry and Clark, who nod back at him, and I shoot them a grateful look.

As I follow the doctor out of the waiting room and into the hallway, my heart rate increases with every step.

We pass various rooms until we finally come to a stop, and the doctor turns to me.

“He’s going to need some rest. So make it short. ”

I nod. “I will.”

With a small intake of breath, I open the door, and my heart almost breaks in half when I see the strong and cocky James Adler lying on a hospital bed.

“Ah,” he mutters, smiling weakly when he sees me. “I see I finally got your attention.”

A laugh and a sigh burst out of me at the same time as I hurry to his side.

“I never thought this is what it would take to have you in my room, Elizabeth,” he says, waggling his eyebrows.

This man! Another surge of relief rushes through me, and I hit him softly in the stomach. “You scared me half to death, James! Are you crazy?”

“Hey!” he scolds. “Don’t hit me.”

“I’m mad at you.” Despite m y words, my body relaxes with each passing second. “I thought you were dead!”

He gives me an exaggerated frown. “If it’s any consolation, I will die one day, Elizabeth.”

I shake my head. “You’re unbelievable. And a liar,” I scold. “You said you wouldn’t go after him.”

He tuts, raising a finger. “I didn’t lie. I said I wouldn’t go out and find him . I never said I wouldn’t smash his face on the ice the first chance I got.”

I sigh, taking his hand. The move is spontaneous, but I don’t anticipate the tingles dancing through my arm. “You didn’t have to do that.”

He squeezes my hand once. “I absolutely had to do that. And I’ll do it again if anyone else ever lays a hand on you.”

Our gazes lock, and I see the sincerity, the protectiveness in his eyes, and it makes my heart soar.

I get lost in his ocean-blue eyes, hating the part of me that feels good in this moment.

Flattered to have a hot, strong hockey player defending my honor on the ice.

I shouldn’t be that person. It’s not right. And yet, here I am.

“You’re an amazing woman, you know that?” he murmurs, and I lean forward a notch. His gaze flickers to my lips, and I swallow hard before shifting my eyes away, clearing my throat.

What am I doing? Was I about to g ive James Adler a thank-you kiss for getting into a fight with my ex just now?

Dropping his hand, I stand up and take a step back, my chest suddenly tight.

This is crazy. I shouldn’t want to kiss him, but with the way my heart is hammering right now, it’s obvious that I really, really want to .