Page 16

Chloe

A scream rises in my throat as number sixty-seven comes under Gunner and flips him.

Gunner’s body twists in the air, and he hits the ice, shoulder first.

I'm on my feet in an instant, terrified when Gunner doesn’t get back up. Aiden gets there first and slams sixty-seven into the wall; Sebastian and Zac get there a second later. Dylan joins them, and it’s an all-out brawl. But I can’t take my eyes off Gunner. He’s on his knees now, but he hasn’t gotten up. The refs manage to break up the fight, and Gunner gets to his feet. I watch as he skates over to the bench, but his left arm hangs, and he cradles it. My stomach recoils. I’ve been a hockey fan long enough to know a season-ending injury when I see it, and that cheap shot was delivered in a way to take Gunner out. I’m moving through my row before I even think about it. My mind is already racing with what this could mean for Gunner, for the team. I’m also thinking of the seventy ways I can destroy number sixty-seven's future.

I’m very good at my job, and if Gunner’s season is done or his future ruined, I will take it on myself personally to destroy number sixty-seven's career.

When I get a clear look at the ice again, Gunner is gone. Play has started once again, and Scott is playing Gunner’s position. My stomach clenches again, and I quickly make my way towards the exit. I hold up the badge attached to the lanyard hanging around my neck when I get close to security. They let me right through, and I begin making my way through the maze of hallways that will lead me to the medic area our team is using. My phone rings, and I’m ready to silence it until I see who it is. “Grandma May, are you okay?” I ask quickly.

“Am I okay? Is Big C okay? Did you see that hit?”

I breathe a sigh of relief, but it doesn’t last long as worry returns quickly for Gunner. “I saw it.”

“He wasn’t moving that arm.”

“I know. I’m heading there to check on him now.”

“It’s the kind of injury that takes a man out of the season.”

It’s silent as we both share a quiet moment. I square my shoulders. “I know.”

“You gonna do something about that slimeball that hit him.”

“Yes.”

“Good. Let me know what you find out with our boy.”

I don’t correct her. “I will.” Nobody stops me as I stride inside; the medical staff and I work together often. I will be the one that has to get a report to the media, if possible, before the end of the game. Fans will want to know what’s going to happen to their beloved captain. I see Gunner before he sees me. He’s sitting on the medic table with his shirt off and already arguing with the medical staff, even though it’s obvious he’s in a ton of pain.

“Coftman, are you causing problems in here?” I ask, stepping right up to the table. His eyes shoot to mine. His jaw tightens when they work on manipulating his shoulder; that’s the only sign that he’s in pain. “What’s the diagnosis?” I ask, getting right to business.

He doesn’t answer, not that I expected him to. “We think separated shoulder,” Trent, one of the team’s physicians says. “He’ll need x-rays to determine the extent of his injury. We’ll also be checking to see if he has a torn labrum.”

My eyes meet Gunner’s and hold for just a moment. Neither of us say anything, and yet we connect during that moment. We both know the severity of what they’re saying, and we both know the possibility of what it could mean. It could mean surgery, recovery, and maybe even missing the rest of the season. I’ve been in this position several times over the years, but I don’t think I’ve ever felt it quite so personal. I swallow and nod, taking in Trent’s words. I even write them down on my phone, so I get it right when I share it with the team and staff.

“What’s the score?” Gunner asks.

One of the physicians goes over to the wall and gets the game on, so we can see what’s happening. I watch as Aiden and Sebastian both close in on number sixty-seven. He manages to escape both of them...for now. “I’m pretty sure your teammates are after retribution,” I point out. I watch in silence as they get the puck on a breakaway and face Rico on two-to-one. He keeps the first shot out, but he’s off to the side and the next one gets in. I bite my tongue but don’t say anything. They continue to work on Gunner, and I start my update for Gunner’s injuries. I keep it at just an upper body injury. More will come in time; not right now. I hear the crowd beyond these walls go crazy, and I don’t have to even look at the tv to know LA has scored again. I don’t tell Gunner, but I’m sure he knows.

Just a few minutes later, he’s off the table and shrugging his jersey back on. I resist the urge to go help him and let the physicians help him instead. They put his arm in a sling and give him strict instructions to sit on the sidelines. He refuses painkillers, and then he’s ready to go. I fall into step next to him, without asking him. He’s so much taller than me in his skates. Neither of us say a word as we walk towards the hallway that will take him back to the game. We get close, and I stop. I don’t know why I do it, but I put my hand on his uninjured arm. “Gunner.” He looks down at me, and I suddenly don’t know what to say. I’m afraid if I say, “I’m sorry,” he’ll see it as pity. So I don’t. Instead, I say, “I’ll see you after the game. Be careful.”

He doesn’t say anything but simply walks away from me and back to the bench where his team sits. I don’t bother going back into the arena. There’s less than two minutes left, and we’re down by two. I’m pretty sure our guys can’t pull this off, especially without their entire line. With Gunner out and Scott in, they’re playing at a deficit. I walk to the room where the press conference will be held after the game instead and send out the official announcement from the Green Thunder Team. Gunner will be out for an undisclosed amount of time with an upper body injury.

It’s not long before the room starts to fill. I stand at the back and keep an eye out for my guys. Coach is the first one in. He does not look happy. Sebastian comes in after that and then Rico. They both look like they’d rather be anywhere else but here. Sebastian sees me first and cuts right towards me. Neither of them has taken the time to change. “What’s the word on Gunner?” Sebastian asks in a low voice, and Rico closes in.

“Separated shoulder and testing to see if there’s further damage. They haven’t given him any kind of timeline for a return yet.” I keep my voice quiet, so nobody else can hear.

Sebastian mutters something low under his breath, and Rico leans against the wall with his arms across his chest. When Gunner comes through the doorway a moment later with his arm in a sling, it takes everything in my power not to go over to him. I don’t know why I’m acting like this. I watch as he scans the room and then makes his way towards us. But he doesn’t make it far. He’s called up to the front and moments later, he’s sitting at the table. He tries to give a relaxed front, but I can see past it to the pain he’s clearly in. I see it in the set of his shoulders and the tightness of his jaw. I can also see his frustration, and I wonder if everybody else does too. When he finishes, he leaves the room instead of coming back to stand with us.

Sebastian goes next and has to give an account for why they lost. This is the hard part of playing professional sports—the nonglamorous side. Sebastian is usually a favorite with the press, but he’s subdued tonight both because of the loss and because of Gunner. We’re all going to be tense until we hear the extent of his injury. If he’s out for the season...I can’t even go there.

“Make him take some pain pills, will you?” Rico asks quietly next to me.

I huff. “Like he’ll listen to me.” Gunner is one of the most stubborn people I know.

“He will.”

I meet Rico’s concerned gaze. “I’ll try.” He nods, accepting my words. I watch as he heads to the table next and has to let the press know why he let three goals past him tonight. I hate this part for them, but I know it’s all part of it. Sebastian waits quietly beside me. When Rico finishes, the three of us make our way out. They veer off to the locker room, and I head to the waiting area. Since the game’s in California, there are very few family or friends present. The room is mostly empty and quiet, reflecting the somber mood of the team. I’m not looking forward to the flight home for several reasons. One is that the team will be bears after this loss; they really wanted retribution after LA ended their season last year. And Gunner will be anything but pleasant to fly home with.

Since it was an earlier game, and we’re on California time, we’re able to fly out after the game—perks of flying private. As expected, the team is quiet and somber as we load up onto the buses and head to the airfield. Gunner was still with the medical staff, so I went on ahead. Once we get to the airfield, we load the plane and get settled. Gunner’s the last on the plane. I'm not sure if he’s going to sit with me, but nobody sat in the seat next to me.

He stops in the aisle and pulls his phone out of his pocket before he slides into the seat.

I can’t help but notice how gingerly he moves.

I wonder what else is hurting besides just his shoulder.

He fiddles with his sling, adjusting it as he tries to get comfortable in his seat.

“Do you want sit here so nobody bumps your arm?” I ask.

“No, it’s fine.” That’s all he says, but it’s the first thing I’ve heard him say since he was injured.

It soothes something inside me.

I don’t want to bug him, but I have to know.

“Did you take pain meds? What’s the diagnosis?”

"Separated shoulder.”

I take a breath and process. I don’t ask him how long he’s going to be out. We’ll get to all that in time. I’m hoping for now he’ll be able to sleep on the flight. I can’t stand the thought of him being in pain. It doesn’t take long to get up into the air. Soon after that, the smell of food permeates the air; but it makes my stomach turn. When the food comes our way, I lean over and take my food, before taking a box for Gunner as well. I pull each of our trays down, and put a box of food on each tray.

“I’m not an invalid,” he growls at me.

“Good to know.” When he’s set, I lean back against my seat and open my box.