Page 3 of Tye (Rage MC: The Prospects #8)

Ice – Two weeks later.

T he roar of the crowd filled my ears, but I was immune to the noise now. Their excitement pumped me up at the start of a game, but as soon as the puck dropped, I was all in. The team we faced tonight was one of our biggest rivals, and it always got dirty. And bearing in mind that Carmine’s shit was still fresh in most people’s minds, this was getting bloody.

Kieran West, major asshole and left defence, was making my life a misery. My position was now centre, and I usually hit the goal with unerring accuracy. West had muttered insults in my direction throughout the first period, which led to me assisting in our first goal. Since then, the ignorant remarks had been upped. Hell, I was doing my best not to flare up, but shit, that was my brother that West kept ragging on.

We were halfway through the second period now.

The puck hit my stick, and West barrelled towards me. I juked left, spun, darted right, and struck. Even before it hit the back of the net, I knew the puck would be going in. Seconds later, the goal flashed, and the siren screeched.

My teammates headed for me as I skated around the net.

West skidded to a halt, glaring and hate in his expression.

“That’s for my faggot, whore brother. Remember him, West. Carmine Michaelson. Every fuckin’ goal I score is gonna have Carmine’s name on it!” I yelled across the ice as Roberts, our left wing, hit me to celebrate.

West glowered as he skated away, and I guessed tonight was about to get rougher. But now I was pissed. Fuck yeah, I felt fired up and was having the game of the season. I’d pulled everything out; I deked and juked, defended, passed, and by the end of the second period, we’re four goals up. West could suck me.

Coach grinned as I hit the bench in the locker room and grabbed a bottle of water.

“Whatever’s got into you guys, continue it. The Armourers can’t keep up with you. Michaelson, three fucking goals and an assist,” Coach crowed.

“We have a problem. West, coach. He’s been slinging stuff about Tye’s brother. I’ve heard him yell faggot, whore, and West asked if Tye banged his own brother. West even accused Tye of being fucked as a kid, too. That shit has no place on the ice,” Porter stated.

Coach turned to me, his face a scowl. “That true?”

“Ain’t nothing I can’t handle. Coach, I’m good,” I replied.

Coach studied me and shrugged. “Michaelson, I’ll be putting in a report, and I want statements from everyone who’s overheard anything tonight. The NHL needs to react the same way the MLB is. If we condone West’s words, then we’re as bad as him. Rise above it, Michaelson, and keep scoring. That is the best revenge,” Coach said.

I nodded as Coach continued with his pep talk, which put me in the zone.

◆◆◆

I spun and intercepted the puck that Roberts passed. Speeding down the ice, I saw West coming again. A grin crossed my lips, and I aimed it towards Ward.

Ward flew forward, and as West changed direction to intercept him, Ward flicked it back. The puck nestled in the heel of my stick, and I raced ahead, cupping the puck. West chased me as Ward skated in front to distract him. But West had no chance as I was flying, and I shot.

My arms shot up high above my head in celebration, ain’t no way that was ever going to miss or be saved. The puck lay in the corner as the scoreboard screamed: seven goals to nil.

With one arm high and the other pointed at West, I bellowed my goal. “Score for my faggot brother, Carmine!” I yelled.

Grinning, I turned away. Four goals and one assist. I was on fucking fire tonight.

Ward skated towards me, and I saw horror cross his face. Ward’s mouth opened, but I didn’t get to hear what he was going to shout.

Someone hit my body mid-stomach, and they hefted me up off my feet and slammed me against the glass. Screams and shouts erupted as the stadium turned ugly.

I didn’t have time to get my bearings before I was tossed onto the ice. My head bounced several times in my helmet, and the air in my lungs left in a whoosh. Disoriented, I tried to drag oxygen back in, but there was a crushing weight on my chest, and my head continued to bounce on the ice.

The edge of my vision started to blacken as I panicked.

I couldn’t breathe.

The weight disappeared, and I heard my name being bellowed, but it was from a distance. Terrified, I couldn’t get air into my lungs. I couldn’t fuckin’ breathe.

I clawed the ice in desperation, and then everything went blank.

◆◆◆

Cold air hit me, and I dragged it into my lungs, which burned. Frantically, I panted, relieved my lungs were working. But they didn’t seem to be taking in enough air. Panic flooded through my body once more, and I grasped someone’s arm tightly.

My eyes blinked in the flashing blue and red lights, and I wondered what the fuck was happening.

◆◆◆

Sirens wail, and I winced. My head hammered, and I was certain my brain was trying to leap out of my skull. Confused, I reached up and touched my helmet.

Odd, I was still wearing it.

A hand moved mine away and placed it back on my chest. There was a mask on my face, and oxygen was being forced into my lungs. A woman cried and begged me not to leave her. Why the hell was someone saying that? She kept pleading with me to fight and not give up. Overwhelmed with confusion, there was only one person I wanted…

Mom.

◆◆◆

Bright lights whizzed by me as I wheeled past them at a run. I still struggled to breathe, and the agony in my lungs and head almost made me scream. Tears streamed unchecked down my face. Shit, I’d never experienced such agony. I was slammed to a stop, and voices shouted orders as I tried to figure out what the hell was going on.

A torch shone in my eyes, and the pain worsened.

Flinching, I cried out. And once more, everything went black.

◆◆◆

The beeping of monitors woke me up, and I glowered. My head was no longer riddled with pain, but a dull headache lingered. Relief swamped me as I realised I was breathing normally. Damn, I never wanted to experience that again. The helplessness and panic would be a memory that wouldn’t fade for a lifetime.

A hand held mine, and I shifted my gaze and found a head lying on my bed with blond hair spread out around it.

“Jodie,” I said hoarsely, and my sister jumped as she blinked sleep away.

“Tye?” Jodie whispered as her eyes searched my face. “Oh, thank fuck!”

“What the hell happened?” I demanded, trying to pull the oxygen mask off.

Jodie’s hand slapped over mine. “Bro, let me call a doctor and tell them you’re awake,” she said, attempting to get to her feet.

Nope, I needed my sister and clung to her.

Jodie stopped and sat back down. She reached over and pressed a button instead and smirked.

“ Touché, sis,” I muttered.

“How you doing?” Jodie asked as she ran her fingers down my cheek.

I winced a little, and she removed them.

“Like I got hit by a truck. Seriously, what happened?” I rasped. The mask may have been giving me oxygen, but it annoyed me now.

“Kieran West. He attacked you after your last goal. It took six people to pull him off you,” Jodie muttered.

I shook my head and stopped. That hurt like hell.

“Damn, I don’t remember.”

“Good, because it was nasty. The whole scene was on TV and everything. Your coach and team are up in arms. There’s a real storm happening now, and the Armourers are in some shit. People recorded some of what West was saying to you, so that’s all over social media, as well as his attack on you. And now, well, a Michaelson has made the national news once more,” Jodie replied.

“Mom?” I hissed.

“Mum’s coming. You were calling for her. She’s on a flight right now,” Jodie soothed.

The door opened, and a nurse peeked in.

“Tye’s awake!” Jodie exclaimed, and the woman nodded.

“I’ll inform the doctor,” she said and left.

“Friendly sort,” I commented, and Jodie snorted.

“Yeah, the nurse clearly doesn’t like my handsome, megastar, big brother,” Jodie teased and stroked my hand.

“Jodie, what’s wrong with me because it’s like I’ve been hit with a truck, and I’m well aware my body is numb through some good shit?” I asked.

Jodie shook her head. “Let the doc explain, Tye. The police are also here. They want a statement. Keiran West was charged with assault and attempted murder. It was more than a brawl.” Jodie’s voice broke, and tears welled in her eyes. “Tye, I was in the crowd and couldn’t get to you!”

Shit. Jodie had witnessed what West had done first hand. Her agony was written all over her face.

“Were you alone?” I asked, and she nodded.

And that made it all the worse. Poor Jodie must have been panic stricken. I couldn’t imagine what she’d suffered while she’d been trying to reach me.

“By the time I reached the ice, medics were carrying you off. Security wouldn’t allow me through until your friend Roberts spotted me. Roberts and Ward grabbed me and got me through security as they were placing you in the ambulance. They let me ride with you,” Jodie explained.

“How long have I been here?”

“Nine hours. Mom had to sort care for the little ones and get the plane prepped. Dad stayed with the kids, but Micah and Harley are coming. Christian and Cody are staying to run The Trusts. They’ve done a brain scan, and guess what? Docs discovered you have one!” Jodie teased.

I pouted, and Jodie laughed a little, but there was hysteria behind it. Weakly, I squeezed her hand.

“West fractured your skull. Bastard was ramming your head off the ice. Your helmet protected you from major trauma, but you’ve got bruising and swelling. He dislocated your shoulder when he threw you against the glass. Tye, he broke your clavicle, humerus on your left arm, and acromion. Asshole also broke four ribs when he slammed you with his stick and jumped on top of you.”

“Is there anything West didn’t fuckin’ attempt?” I complained. Not a surprise that I was on strong meds then. No doubt my body was wracked with agony right now, and blissfully I couldn’t feel shit.

My eyes closed, and Jodie made a noise. “Stay awake, big brother. Just to see the doctor.”

I smiled and drifted back off.

◆◆◆

“Did I say I didn’t trust you? That’s my son lying there, and he’s having guards at his fucking door. I don’t give a fuck that you claim Tye’s safe here. Tye’s clearly not. That asshole was taking pictures of him in his bed. If my other boy hadn’t of caught that damn reporter and smashed the camera, Tye’s images would be all over the media. No. Your security is shit, and I don’t trust it! That is not saying I don’t trust you, although the way you’re acting, I’m glad Doc Paul is coming!”

Ah, the dulcet tones of my mother on a roll. Someone was getting their ass handed to them.

I winced at the throbbing in my head. It was worse than before.

“Tye’s awake,” my oldest brother announced, and I opened my eyes and flinched, making me cringe in pain again. Fanatic’s face was right in front of mine. The fucker grinned as he drew back, and I flipped him the bird.

“Tye?” Mom exclaimed, dropping the argument and rushing to my bed. I smirked at Fanatic as Mom shoved him out of the way using her hip and took his place. Her gentle hands ran over my cheeks, and I felt the love in them.

“Mom,” I said and realised that the mask was gone, and I was breathing on my own.

“My boy,” Mom whispered and kissed my forehead. “I’m gonna destroy that asshole.”

And that was a promise.

I squeezed Mom’s hand, and she kissed me again before sitting primly. The doctor, who she’d been arguing with, gazed at Mom and then me, unsure what to do.

“Are you going to stand there all day or check on my son?” Mom snapped, and I hid a grin.

The doctor glowered but came close and checked me over. Mom watched him with a beady eye while my siblings and I swapped amused glances. Once Mom got her report on my progress, she sent him on his way.

“Doc Paul is flying out. The fuck I’m trusting your health to anybody else,” Mom stated and folded her arms.

“Whelp, I’m going on a coffee run. Anyone want some?” Jodie said with a grin. She took orders and disappeared. Once outside, we heard her giggles as she walked away.

“Don’t mess with Mom’s baby boys,” Fanatic snorted, and Harley began to laugh too. Mom regally glanced at them and stared down her nose before breaking into laughter as well.

“What an ass,” Mom said, dismissing the doctor. “However, Doc Paul is coming. I’ve got him privileges here and made a modest donation to smooth the way. Tye, all merriment aside, your injuries are serious. That motherfucker was seriously trying to crush your skull.”

“By the lingering headache, I don’t think West missed by far,” I admitted as Mom grabbed a button and pushed it, and sudden relief swept over me. “Wow.”

“Did you forget you can control your pain meds?” Mom asked as she stroked my hand.

“Nope. More like Jodie neglected to tell me,” I replied.

Fanatic snorted again, sat his ass on the window ledge, and crossed his legs at the ankles.

“Baby boy, I’ve spoken to your coach. You’re going to be out for the next three months, Tye. These injuries aren’t going to heal easily,” Mom said. “Once Doc Paul’s assessed you, we’ll have a better idea of what’s going on.”

“Is my career over? I didn’t think any of that was career-ending,” I stuttered as a cold feeling gripped my stomach.

“No. But you’ve got a long road ahead of you. Hopefully, you’ll return to form and back to playing in March,” Harley stated.

“Could someone now tell me what happened? Jodie gave me bits and pieces,” I asked.

“Even better, I’ll show you,” Fanatic said with relish. “You took a hell of a beating, bro.”

Mom glared at Fanatic, who grinned.

“Mum, Tye’s fine. Your baby boy is going to be okay, and he’ll be back in your loving arms for the next three months. But this shit Tye needs to see, or it will haunt him,” Fanatic continued.

Without another word, Fanatic shoved his phone in front of my face and pressed play.

Spellbound, I watched as I skated around the goal and yelled something at West. I was heading towards my teammates when West skated directly at me. He bent low, tackled me in my stomach, and lifted me off my feet. West slammed me against the glass without a second thought. I hit with such force the glass fractured. Screams erupted, making me wince, and Fanatic turned the volume down.

Not done, West threw me onto the ice hard, and that’s when I remembered the air leaving my lungs.

I automatically begin to heave in mouthfuls of air, reacting to the incident Fanatic showed me. Mom grabbed the oxygen mask and shoved it over my face again. I gulped the oxygen down greedily as I watch my body twist on the ice to breathe.

West hit me with his stick three times before hitting my head with it and jumping on me. He sat on my chest as I struggled for air, gripped my helmet, and started smashing my head on the ice.

Jesus. West was a fuckin’ maniac. The Armourer’s goalie reached him first and tried dragging West off. Moments later, Ward skidded to a stop, and they wrestled West, who refused to budge.

It took four of my teammates and two of West’s to get him off me before the medics from both teams swarmed me. The crowd was going wild as his own team wrestled West off the ice.

A gurney appeared, and I was lifted onto it, and the camera followed me out.

“Shit, that was brutal,” I muttered, holding the mask.

A prickle of fear ran down my spine. I never wanted to experience that again. Not that feeling of helplessness or the lack of control over my breathing. I sucked down lungfuls of oxygen, trying not to panic as my brain kicked into overtime.

Mom got to her feet and rubbed my chest to soothe me.

“It was a fuckin’ shitstorm. The cameras also caught the insults that West had been spewing all night. Right now, West’s in a jail cell, and Mum is throwing lawyers at the police. She wants West charged with everything they can book him with. The Armourers haven’t released a statement yet, so we don’t know if they’re going to defend him or hang West out to dry,” Harley informed me.

“West was saying shit about Carmine all night. Every goal or assist I got, I yelled Carmine’s name. West thought he was riling me up, but he wasn’t. Instead, he was fuelling his team’s defeat,” I said.

“The players already voted. Show Tye the rest of it,” Mom interrupted.

Harley hit forward on the video and hit play. Both teams had returned to the ice, with ten minutes remaining. I gazed wide-eyed and stunned as the Armourers hugged the sides of the rink, making a mockery of playing but not actually playing. The goalie stood on one side of the net.

At first, I thought they were going to give the team a few goals to prove their disapproval. Instead, I watched as, for ten minutes, my team racked up goals. The crowd was silent, unsure how to respond.

Ward skated to a stop in the middle of the rink and held his arms above his head.

“Respect!” he bellowed, and his voice boomed around the stadium.

“Respect!” my teammates yelled in reply.

The crowd took the chant up as my teammates kept scoring, and finally, the ref blew the whistle.

“That score won’t stand,” I said, laughing at the figure on the scoreboard.

“It’s standing. The NHL has refused to overturn it despite some of the Armourers’ management getting on at them,” Harley replied.

“We’ll see if in a few days they change their mind,” Fanatic added.

“When can I get out of here?” I asked, not wanting to stay in a bed for weeks on end and certainly not in hospital.

“Not yet. Doc Paul needs to see you first, and you will follow his advice,” Mom stated firmly.

Jodie hustled her ass in the door and shut it. “Move Tye’s bed to the window,” she ordered.

Laughably, my brothers ignored her and hurried to look themselves.

Mom watched them and smiled. “That was obvious,” she said.

“Dude, you need to see this,” Harley stated and turned to me.

“Hospital bed,” I replied, waving my hands around.

Harley rolled his eyes with Fanatic, and they both unlocked the wheels and pushed it over. Jodie carefully pressed the button that lifted the top of the bed so I was in a sitting position, and I gazed out the window.

Outside the hospital was a huge mass of people. They wore Blackhawk hockey tops and some wore the Armourers. Media vans were scattered around as reporters filmed the peaceful crowd. They all stood together, arms linked, Blackhawk fans with Armourer fans. And they swayed peacefully as they sang something.

“What are they singing?” I asked Jodie.

“Just different songs played at games. But look at that, Tye. They’re not beating the shit out of each other,” Jodie said, sounding amazed.

“Considering how much our fans hate each other, that’s a damn miracle in itself,” I replied.

“Means even more when you realise this is the Armourer’s home city. Despite the rivalry between your two clubs, the fans are showing that peace can be found,” Mom murmured.

“Just took my head being bashed in,” I sniped, and my family glared at me. “Too soon for jokes?”

“Yes,” Mom snapped.

“When Doc Paul has assessed you, we’ll look at getting you back to the Hall. I want you where I can see you.”

“You know that ain’t the quietest place to heal,” Jodie interrupted the pending argument.

Mom offered Jodie one of her patented stares, and Jodie subsided.

Nothing ever fuckin’ changed in my family!