Page 71 of Reputation (Toronto Royals #1)

Chapter Forty

Jax

Tonight’s game was a rematch against their division rivals, the Boston Bobcats, and Jax was ready to let everything out on this ice. It had always been the one place that grounded him, and he needed an outlet for the frustration, the pain and the anger.

He was frustrated at his situation with Eavie—how one simple mistake had caused a cataclysmic eruption in their relationship.

The pain from pouring his heart out to her, only for her to walk away.

And anger. He was angry that he once again felt like his heart had been ripped out and he was back in the place of heartbreak and misery—the one place he had sworn never to find himself again.

After Abigail had left him and miraculously found herself engaged weeks later, he’d slowly stitched the wound where his love for her had been, burying the emotion along with his heart, only to have Eavie bring him back from the darkness and then tear the wound open again.

It had hurt so fucking much to let her walk away. He’d never wanted anything more than to go after her, to beg her to stay, but instead of fighting, he’d let her go.

Standing in the cold, a hollow pit formed where his heart had beat for her.

She was right, of course. He could see that now.

What had happened hadn’t changed anything, hadn’t changed her position.

He never considered what it would mean for Eavie if they broke up and how it would affect her.

She was right, and he couldn’t ask her to take that risk for him, for a relationship where neither of them knew where it would lead.

Getting home, he’d wanted to give in to the need to get plastered—needing a way to forget her and the emptiness he felt now. He’d looked longingly at the bar set up along the wall, the bottle of bourbon taunting him to get a taste of something that reminded him of her.

But there were games to play, and Jax had a duty to be the best for his team. It was the only thing he had left. It was what she told him to focus on.

So, instead of giving in to the need to lose himself for a few hours, he’d spent a restless weekend trying to sleep in sheets that still smelled of her.

Skating around the ice, Jax warmed up, letting all his frustrations set his determination to beat the Bobcats. He needed the satisfaction of a win against their rivals to burn away the sweet taste of her.

The game was intense from the moment the puck dropped on the ice, with both teams’ determination to win evident. The heat turned up five minutes in when a dirty hit led to Brooks scoring a five-hole goal, opening the scoring for the night.

The rest of the first period continued similarly, with players laying hard checks and throwing solid shots at the net. By the end of the period, the game was tied 2-2, players skating off the ice with temperatures high.

The intermission didn’t stem the flow of competition either. They hit the ice like they had never left, and tempers sparked again. Halfway through the second period, a fight broke out between Jack Smith and the Bobcats winger Clark Karter after he bumped MacDonald in the net.

With both players sitting in the penalty box, the teams were matched four on four, with the Bobcats landing a top-shelf goal just before the end of the penalties, putting them one ahead.

One goal down, Coach called for the first line to take the ice. Jax swung his leg over the board, cutting the ice with his blades as his wingers, Mitchell and Nordstrom, followed behind, flanking him at the face-off dot where he took up his position, ready to battle the opposing team’s center.

The linesman dropped the puck, and they drew for it.

When the Bobcats ended up with possession, they passed it back and forth as they made their way to center ice.

The Bobcats dumped it in, letting it slide toward the end of the rink on an angle, with another player skating hard after it to avoid an icing call.

Seeing the Bobcats forward, number twenty-four, Novak, chasing the puck, Jax leaned his body forward, relishing the burn in his thighs as he propelled himself forward. He let everything he felt fuel him as he pushed himself to catch Novak, needing this win.

He caught up to him halfway through the defensive zone.

Elbow to elbow, they chased the puck, their sticks tangling as they jockeyed for it.

The upward pressure of Novak’s stick had Jax’s balance faltering, his skate losing its edge under him.

The left side of his body hit the ice, his ribs screaming with the impact.

His leg was caught between Novak’s, causing him to topple onto Jax, winding him.

The excessive speed from the race caused their bodies, aided by the slippery ice, to fly toward the boards too fast, Jax on the bottom, body angled head first. Before he could recover his breath, he felt a sharp stab of pain down his neck before everything went black.

Horror engulfed her as Eavie watched the two players slam into the boards.

A loud reverberation punctuated their collision with a sickening sound.

She jumped to her feet, along with the entire arena, hand flying to her mouth to cover the soundless cry.

A hush fell over the crowd as they stood there in silence, watching, waiting.

Novak slowly untangled himself from Jax, careful of the sharp blades on his skates, and pushed himself onto one knee, his body blocking Eavie’s view.

The player looked down at Jax. In the next instant, he started waving frantically, gesturing to the referees and coaches that they needed medical assistance.

Whistles blew as shouts began emanating from below, all of it incoherent from this distance.

Eavie’s lungs ceased to work as she stood in the box, watching the scene unfold.

She stared at the parts of Jax’s body that she could see, silently willing him to move.

The entire arena was so quiet you could probably hear a pin drop, but Eavie wouldn’t have heard anything over the roaring white noise in her ears.

Her gaze was magnetized to Jax’s unmoving form, still blocked by Novak. It looked like he was saying something to Jax, but Eavie was too far away to tell for sure.

A few Royals players had skated over to the scene at the blow of the whistle. Nordstrom knelt next to Novak while Marc stood at his shoulder. Brooks helped the Royals’ head doctor cross the ice toward Jax. He knelt at his head and reached forward, speaking to him.

Eavie’s lungs began to burn as she watched.

It took her a moment to realize she hadn’t taken a single breath since the sickening thud of flesh and bone meeting the plastic boards reverberated through the air.

She tried to draw in air, tried giving her body what it was screaming for, but only succeeded in taking small gulps, like a fish trying to breathe on land.

After what felt like an eternity, she saw a small spasm in one of Jax’s legs, but then he went still again.

After another minute, the Royals doctor, who looked to be holding Jax’s head on either side of his temple, signaled for a stretcher to be brought out.

The fact that he was trying to keep Jax still sent a sickening wave of terror through Eavie.

The roaring in her ears grew louder at the sight of the paramedics wheeling the metal stretcher out onto the ice, assisted by players from both teams.

The players who were kneeling over Jax moved to allow the paramedics room. Eavie caught a brief glimpse of him as they shifted. She let out a muffled cry as his unmoving form caused an intense wave of nausea to wash over her. Her skin felt clammy, and under her sweater and jacket, she felt cold.

The paramedics placed a C-collar around his neck and, with the help of some players, gently rolled him onto a backboard. Once they had him strapped down, they lifted him onto the stretcher and began wheeling him off the ice, the Royals doctor at his side.

Eavie watched their progress, her eyes never leaving Jax until the group stepped off the ice, disappearing down the tunnel, out of her sight.