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There’s ice running through my veins; my body feels like it’s been filled with lead. I don’t think I’m breathing. Tears run down my face, hot against the cold that has taken over. My body is shaking like a leaf. I hear Abby’s voice, but I can’t tell you anything she’s saying; it’s nothing but static in the background.

All I see is Greyson. His body lying flat on the ice, motionless. My eyes are glued to the screen, willing him to get up, to move, to do something to let me and the rest of the world know he’s okay. But he doesn’t.

Get up, Greyson.

Please, please get up.

Come on, Bulldozer.

The plea ran through my mind like a broken record.

Abby stops in front of me and grabs my shoulders, giving them a good shake. “Hannah! You need to take a breath.” If that didn’t snap me out of it, the paws that knock me over on my butt surely do. Now sitting on the floor, Harley is licking the tears off my face while letting me run my hand down her back. The motion brings me back to the present.

Part of me wants to jump through the screen and make sure he’s okay. Seeing him get hit from behind, his helmet bouncing off the glass before he fell, and didn’t move at all. I’ve never been so scared. I watch as they get him off the ice. He’s conscious and able to skate off, but he’s cradling his arm, face etched in pain.

I want to scream. I want to be there for him. Make sure he’s okay, hold his hand, and let him know he’s not alone. Instead, I sit here frozen, helpless. I hate it.

The image replays through my unfortunately, very vivid mind. The way he froze before he was slammed into the board, head bouncing off the glass, snapping back before he crumpled to the ground. Those seconds of no movement felt like a lifetime spent hoping and praying for the smallest sign. It’s a sharp, unrelenting nightmare. I can’t imagine how he and his family are feeling.

My phone rings from somewhere, making me jump. Abby grabs it, answering as she walks back toward me; she puts it on speaker as she sits down on the floor next to me. “Hannah?”

It's Mr. Wilder; his voice is tight, like he’s trying to keep himself from punching someone or something. “Mr. Wilder, is he okay?” Abby’s hand is now running the length of my spine in slow, comforting strokes.

“I...” He blows out a breath and is silent for a beat. “I don’t know. They got him off the ice, but he was screaming that he couldn’t move his shoulder. Amy went with him in the ambulance to the hospital, Tate and I are in the car on our way there.”

“I’m so sorry; I can’t imagine how you’re feeling right now.” I have no words. It was terrifying from here; I can’t imagine being there to witness it live.

Mr. Wilder sighs. “Keep him in your prayers, Hannah; if he blew out his shoulder, he’s more than likely out for the rest of the season.”

Abby and I gasp in unison, “The team doctor will have any scans and medical records sent over to us. I’ll take a look at them as soon as I get them and start working on a therapy plan.”

“Thanks, Abby. He’s lucky to have such dedicated medical staff.”

“Can you hold on for just a second?” The re’s a door closing, and Tatum’s shaky voice is in the background before the only sound you can hear is breathing. Abby gets up and walks towards her room, leaving me to finish this conversation.

“Sure.” I’m met with silence before the voice on the other end changes, and I realize I've been handed off from Mr. Wilder to Tatum.

“There’s a reason I was so closed off to you; she’s it.” I bite my lip, wracking my brain searching for what he could be referring to.

“I don’t understand... Wha–?”

“You didn’t see the sign behind him when he got hit, did you?” I don’t respond because I don’t have any idea what he’s talking about. “Of course you didn’t.”

“I just saw him go down; I didn’t see anything other than him.” My voice breaks on the tail end, the tears falling all over again.

“His ex-girlfriend was holding a sign that said, ‘Go Daddy! We love you.’ She’s holding a little girl who couldn’t be more than one. That’s why he froze. I don’t know anything about it, but I’m going to find out.”

It's like my body has been thrown overboard in the waters of Antarctica. Everything seizes; I'm fairly certain I'm not even breathing. Not because I thought he was keeping things from me but because he could have a whole family he didn’t even know about. He could possibly have everything he’s been wanting but with someone else.

My blood is slowly replaced with ice; I start to feel clammy. Would he move back to Washington? What does this even mean? “Don’t freak out yet. And please don’t shut him out, Hannah. I may not know you, but I know he’s going to need you to lean on.”

I’m trying my absolute hardest not to let myself spiral. “ You’re not dependable; no one will ever need someone like you. ” My dad’s voice busts through my thoughts like a ninja with nunchucks. Was the bravery I had to take the leap in vain? Was my dad right? Would I always just be the girl they had fun with until someone better came along?

“Hannah, deep breaths. I can hear you hyperventilating from here.” His voice come through like an annoyed growl.

“Can you please keep me updated? I don’t want to be in the way, and I’m sure he doesn’t want anyone else asking how he is every five seconds.” There’s a scratching sound on the other end like he’s rubbing his hand over his beard, then it stops, and I’m met with silence.

He groans, “You aren’t a burden, Hannah.” His voice is full of warmth; I can’t handle kind Tate right now.

“Please, just let me know how he’s doing.”

“Alright. I’ll let him know I talked to you.” I can breathe a little easier knowing he’ll keep me in the loop, but my chest still feels like it’s been lassoed and is being flung around by a bucking bronco.

“Thank you.” I hang up, my phone dropping to the floor, and I stare at the picture I have set as my screensaver. Greyson, with Harley’s face in his huge hands. His face is beaming like he’s the sole source of light to the world. I just want to know he’s okay; I need to know he’s okay.

I try to take a deep breath, but it gets caught in my throat, and a broken sob comes out instead. Abby’s by my side in seconds, pulling me into her as I wrap my arms around my knees and rest my head in between them. No one ever prepares you f or the moment someone you care about gets hurt like this, but the worst part is, I’m on the complete opposite side of the country.

I couldn’t go even if I had a ticket in my hands; there were kids counting on me. I can’t miss the event we’ve spent months planning. But dang it, if I don’t want to jump ship, ignore all my responsibilities, and run right into his arms where I know he’d wrap me up and rest his cheek on the top of my head like he always does.

“How are you feeling?” My lips part in shock. It seems like an absurd question to ask.

“I’m not the one hurt.” Her eyes softened, and I know this look; it was the “you’re in denial and don’t want to acknowledge your feelings” look.

“Maybe not physically, but you’re biting your lip, running your hand up and down your arms, and I know for a fact you aren’t cold. You’re shaking, and your cheeks are flushed. I know you; start talking.”

What am I even supposed to say here that I’m terrified he’s really hurt? That he’s got a career-ending injury, and he’ll never play hockey again. That would kill him. Or maybe he’s been having panic attacks about something going wrong during this trip, and now it has. Or maybe it’s the more selfish truth. I’m worried that he’s got a child he’ll move heaven and earth for. Because that’s the kind of man he is, but where will that leave me?

“I just want him to be okay, Abs. That was a hard hit and not a legal one at that. It sucks being so far away, but Tatum said he’d give me updates as they came in.” She nods and hands me a bottle of water before walking off towards her room.

Pulling out my phone, I fired off a text jus t to let him know I was there. I can’t imagine how he must be feeling at the moment.

Hannah: I’m praying for you, Grey. I’m so sorry. Please

Let me know if you need anything. I’ll be there if you need me.