Page 168 of Pucking Sweet

“Move, move, move,” I chant, flashing my badge at one of our regular security guards.

“Oh, Poppy, I hope he’s okay,” she calls as I rush down the last escalator.

He better be okay…or I’m gonna freakingkillhim. God, why did I give him a second night to panic on his own? I was trying to be a good girlfriend, trying to give him space, knowing he’d come to me when he was good and ready.

Now I just watched him get partially decapitated, and he hasn’t told me that he loves me too? Oh, this isnothappening.

My heels click on the concrete, jarring my calves with each step I take. “Where are they taking Lukas?” I shout at the first polo shirt I see.

A young guy holding a handful of hockey sticks looks wide-eyed at me. “Who?”

“Novikov,” I shriek. “Where the hell is he?”

“Ambulance bay,” he says, pointing over his shoulder, nearly dropping his bundle of sticks.

I see the stretcher, and I wanna die. At least they have it propped up a little. They keep it flat when you’re dead, right? Oh god, I watch romcoms and nature documentaries, not true crime!

“Lukas!” I fly down the last twenty feet of the hallway until I’m practically stumbling into the ambulance bay. The truck is already running, and the EMTs are hurrying around, exchanging quick words with Rachel and the medical intern.

“Lukas—wait—” His jersey is soaked in blood, as is the sheet he’s lying on. It’s in his hair, down his neck. “Oh my god,” I cry, tears falling. “Lukas.” I take his hand, squeezing it.

“Hey, Pop,” he mutters. They already have his jersey sleeve rolled up with an IV jammed in his arm.

“What is that?”

“Just an antibiotic cocktail,” Rachel replies, squeezing my shoulder. “We want to fight infection as fast as we can. An ice skate is not the most hygienic of surgical cutting tools.”

“Oh, Lukas, I saw the whole thing. It was so awful.”

“M’okay,” he mutters, his hand going slack in mine.

“What’s wrong with him? Is he passing out?”

“Probably,” one of the EMTs replies. “He’s lost quite a bit of blood, and the shock is wearing off. We’re ready to go here,” she adds at Rachel.

“Right.” Rachel turns to Lukas. “I’ll come check on you after the game, okay? You’re in good hands—”

“What?” I cry. “You’re going with him, right?”

“Pop, I’m needed more here,” she replies.

“Rachel Price, you are a doctor, and he is your patient, and you are going with him to that hospital,” I shriek. “I cannot have it out there that we send our unconscious players off with strangers to perform medical procedures on them! He needs an advocate!”

He needsme. He needs his family.

But our relationship is still safe and private in our little shell. We’re not ready for the eyes of the world. We need more time. He’s not even ready to admit he loves me tome. Meanwhile, I’m over here keeping the world’s biggest secret from him becauseI’mnot ready tocause him more emotional panic. You think we need to be mutually panicking while @hockeybro122 posts a viral cutting diatribe about how we’re both going to hell for our lifestyle?

“Don’t worry,” Rachel assures me. “We’ll notify his emergency contact.”

I blink back my tears. “Colton is his emergency contact, and he’s otherwise engaged. It has to be you, Rachel.Please. Do this for me. Go with him.”

With a sigh, Rachel hands off her medical bag to the intern. “Tell Tyler where I’ve gone. I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

Lukas’s limp hand slips from mine as they wheel his stretcher away, loading him into the back of the ambulance. Once the EMTs are in, Rachel climbs in too, and the doors are shut. The ambulance makes awoop-woopsound as it pulls out of the bay, lights flashing.

I’m left standing in the empty bay with a hand over Lentil, heart racing like I just ran a marathon.

Rest, the doctor said.Relax.