The Penalty Box (Vancouver Wolves Hockey #3)(57)

The crowd’s screams shifted, and then the place got eerily quiet. I looked to see Mica, crouched on the ice, his hands over his head.

I stood up, my heart pounding.

Get up. Please get up.

But he didn’t get up. Ryan and another player stood beside him, looking down at him. A trainer hopped over the fence and, in his shoes, half ran, half shuffled across the ice towards Mica.

The stadium was deathly quiet. I watched in horror, hands over my mouth, trying to see what was going on. The trainer kneeled on the ice, talking to Mica, and then he motioned to Ryan to help him.

Mica stood up, and I saw blood, a whole lot of blood, before the trainer pressed a towel to his face. They led him off the ice to cheers from the stadium. Mica didn’t go to the bench. They led him through the gate and he disappeared.

“I have to go.” I started to move through the aisle.

Andrew stood up. “Let me come.”

“No.” My voice was sharp. “Stay with Yelena.”

“Text me,” Yelena pleaded.

Without looking back, I ran up the stairs towards the exit. I raced through the vast corridor, my eyes looking for stairs that led me down to the next level. I got momentarily disoriented, but then found a long hallway that led towards the locker rooms.

A security guard manned the hallway. “You can’t go past this point.”

“That’s my husband,” I said in desperation.

He shook his head, not believing me.

“Charlie,” said a voice from behind me. I turned to see Rory, Mark Ashford’s daughter. “Are you looking for Mica?”

Tears threatened. “They took him off the ice. I know I’m not allowed back there, but I’m so scared.”

She put a comforting arm around me and flashed her badge to the security guard. “Let’s go see how he’s doing.”

She led me down another corridor and then turned to me. “Can I ask you to wait here?”

I nodded, trying to hold it together. I needed to know he was okay. She disappeared into a room and I paced for an undetermined amount of time until she opened the door.

“Mica took a puck to the face.”

My hands flew up to my mouth.

“The puck hit right beneath his eye. They were worried about an orbital fracture, but they did an MRI and he has no broken bones in his face. He needs stitches underneath his eye.”

“Can I see him? Does he know I’m here?”

“He doesn’t want you to worry.”

My eyes filled with tears. “He doesn’t want to see me?”

She put her hand on my shoulder. “He said you can come in, but he’s more worried about your reaction than he is about his face. So, can you hold it together for him?”

I nodded. “Yeah.”

“His face is a mess. You emotionally need to prepare yourself for that, okay?”

I just wanted to see him for myself, make sure he was okay. “I’m prepared.”

She led me through the locker room, down another hall and into a medical-looking room. Mica was sitting on the edge of an examination table with his back to me. His jersey was off but he was still wearing most of his equipment. Two men in medical coats were standing at a counter, preparing something.

“It’s okay,” Rory encouraged me.

I moved around the table and worked to keep all my emotions in check. When I saw his face, I couldn’t breathe. Mica had a two-inch cut beneath his eye that was open wide and oozing blood. The skin around the cut was bruised black and purple, and his eye was starting to swell shut. It was the worst injury I had ever seen in my life, and that it had happened to his beautiful face made me want to weep.

My eyes were wet, but I worked to remain impassive. “Your face is a mess.”

He laughed and then winced. “Fuck, don’t make me laugh.”

“Sorry.” I grabbed his hand. “Are you okay?”

He squeezed my hand. “Who did they put in the line to replace me?”

“What?” The last thing I cared about was the game, but Mica was still in game mode.

“Coach has that covered,” Rory said. “You’re not playing the rest of the night.”

“Bullshit.”

The doctor turned around, holding a three-inch needle in his hand. “We’re pulling you from the game.”

“I can play,” he insisted. “Throw in some stitches and put me back.”

Rory spoke from behind us. “Mica, we’re up four nothing. We’re in the middle of the second period. You don’t need to play.”

“Put me back.” He sounded pissed.

The doctor spoke. “Your eye is almost swollen closed. You know the rules. We can’t let you play until that eye opens. Now, the stitches will be a bit deep, so I’m going to inject some local anesthetic to freeze the area.”

“I can still see,” Mica grumbled.

Rory spoke to the doctor. “He’s banned from playing until that eye opens.”

I squeezed Mica’s hand, not watching as the doctor started to stick the needle in Mica’s face. Instead, I studied Mica’s hand. It was so big and so strong, just like him. His platinum wedding ring was on his right hand.

“Were you worried?” He sounded gruff.

There was no point trying to hide my concern. I showed up almost crying. “I couldn’t breathe when I saw it was you who got hurt.”