Morgan and I are in our usual seats by the dressing room as we wait for the game to start. When it’s time for Oakley to do his warm-up laps around the rink, I make sure to stand with my back to him so he can see the name written on the jersey that hangs loosely from my shoulders. The proud smile that lights up his face is enough to make me momentarily forget where I am.
“Oh my God! Did you see his abs when he lifted his jersey? I think I need a fan to cool me down,” says a voice behind me. Being my nosey self, I don’t hesitate to listen in on the girly giggles.
“Oh, that’s enough out of you, young lady. Tyler Bateman is far too old for you.” The second voice is far more mature than the first one and makes me turn my head in search of the two mystery ladies.
I spot a woman two rows back who looks to be in her early forties. She sits comfortably beside a much younger, almost carbon copy of herself. Both women are beautiful, with crystal blue eyes and light blonde hair. The kind of hair that girls like me pay hairdressers hundreds of dollars to have.
The younger girl has the longest eyelashes I think I’ve ever seen: a small nose that fits her face perfectly, and sleek, sharp cheekbones that I would die for. Both of them are sporting matching Saint’s jerseys, although I can’t see who they are cheering for from where I’m sitting.
“Whatever, Mom. Just because I have a boyfriend doesn’t mean that I can’t look at other eye-candy.”
“Where did I go wrong with you?” her mother laughs, making my heart clench. I turn back around in my seat in fear of getting caught eavesdropping. However, the woman calls me out before I can escape.
“Oh dear, I am so sorry for my daughter’s lack of manners. I hope we didn’t disturb you.” She glares at her daughter, who is now texting away on her iPhone.
“No! You weren’t. I was just looking for…for my friends! They’re not here yet!” I stammer awkwardly, desperately trying to take myself out of this uncomfortable situation as quickly as possible.
“Well, I hope they get here soon. The game’s about to start. We just got here a few minutes ago ourselves. I hate missing the warm-ups! I’m Anne, by the way.” Her mother-like tone warms my heart. I can’t help but smile at her.
“I’m Ava. It’s nice to meet you.”
“Mom, stop freaking out the locals,” her daughter groans and puts her phone away, turning her attention to me.
“Sorry about her. She doesn’t get out much. I’m Gracie.” She swings her biker boot-clad feet onto the empty seat in front of her and gives me a friendly smile.
“Ava, the games about to start. Tell your new friends that you’ll see them some other time,” Morgan chides and elbows my rib cage. I roll my eyes and let out a harsh breath of air as my side rovers from the aggressive attack.
“I hope you guys enjoy the game. It was nice to meet you both.” I wave at the two of them and sit down in my seat to watch the lights dim.
Halfway through the second period, Oakley skates full speed down the ice when one of the opposing defensemen rams straight into his back. My heart falls and I shoot up out of my seat.
I watch with wide eyes as his chin collides with the ice and his right shoulder catches the rest of his fall. The team medic blocks my view as he runs onto the ice beside their coach—carrying a stretcher. My hands shake as I try to move past the shocked onlookers. I don’t even notice Morgan holding my hand until she pulls me through the growing crowd. When we finally reach a clearing, my jaw drops.
Oakley is lying on his back, clutching his right shoulder and grimacing in pain. He yells at the ref—blood flying from his mouth and splattering the ice around the puddle that rests beside his head. His coach turns to the ref, his face red with anger.
The medic kneels beside Oakley and tries to get him to sit up. The arena is dead silent in anticipation before Morgan calls my name, capturing my attention. I wrench my eyes away from Oakley to look at her. She is staring past me at the fight now taking place on the ice.
Tyler has the player who hurt Oakley by the throat, punching him again and again. He knocks the opponent’s helmet off and kicks it off to the side with his skate. The remaining referees frantically try to rip Tyler off, without much luck.
Adam shouts to get his attention and Tyler drops the player so quickly you would think he was on fire. Tyler spins around and heads off the ice. When he reaches the hallway beside us, he nods his head at me. I watch as he stalks down the hallway, out of sight. I look back to the ice— but Oakley is gone.
“Go. He’ll be in the medical room. Find Tyler, he’ll be able to take you to him. I have to wait for Matt. I’ll meet you at home,” Morgan rushes, all but shoving me out of the crowd.
I make it to the main ground of the arena and hurry towards the locker room. My hands are slick with sweat and I have to repeatedly rub them on the smooth material of my leggings in hopes of calming myself down.
He has to be okay. He’ll be out for maybe a couple of games, and then he’ll be fine. It’ll be like nothing even happened. I blow out a breath of air and thank my lucky stars that it’s empty up here. The last thing I need right now is to be pushed and shoved around by passionate hockey fans.
I reach the dressing room, and my heart picks up at the sight of Tyler waiting by the door. He’s still wearing all of his gear as he leans against the black painted wall. His eyes are closed, and long hair hangs carelessly in his face. His lips are turned downwards, and his bushy eyebrows are pulled in tight. He’s more than just a little upset. I drop my eyes to his knuckles; the once white bandages are now stained a deep red.
“Hey,” I breathe. I move in front of him and wrap my still shaky hands around his waist. The friendly hug starts quite awkward, probably because Tyler isn’t much of a people person, let alone a hugger. After a few seconds, he relaxes and wraps his massive arms around my narrow shoulders. He leans into me and I smile. “Are you okay?”
If I’ve learned anything about Tyler over the past two years, it’s that although he has no problem standing up for his friends and teaching some
asshole a lesson, he’ll always beat himself up afterward. He doesn’t open up much, but I know that his home life isn’t the best.
“Yeah. I didn’t get a scratch on me. Unless you count my fists.” His gruff voice cuts through the silence as he pulls away from me. His eyes dart down to the bandages that need to be changed. “I’ll take you to the medical room. I’m sure lover-boy is losing his shit without you around.”
Tyler’s deep chuckle makes me smile. And before I know it, we come to a stop in front of a white door with the word medic plastered on the front in bold red letters.
“I’ll leave you to it. You can just head in. I’m sure they’re expecting
you.”
I smile again and let out a little laugh. Tyler nods once and turns
around to make his way back to the locker room before he stops short and looks around awkwardly.
“Oh, and thank you. For earlier.” He rocks on the balls of his feet, ready to bolt at any moment.
“You don’t have to thank me, Tyler. We’re friends and that’s what friends do.” I give him a small, gentle smile and watch as his own grows, making a rare appearance. He nods his head and turns around once again, walking away.
With as much confidence as I can muster, I pull the door open and walk into the room. I’m hit with the smell of disinfectant instantly, forcing my nose to scrunch up in distaste. I hate the smell of hospitals.
Oakley is sitting on a makeshift hospital bed in the middle of the room, annoyance written clearly on his face. A sling is wrapped around his neck, holding his right arm up. A white bandage is pulled tight across his chin, and an ice pack is taped across his lower back.
I gasp, “What happened out there? One minute you were skating, then the next you were on your back and then Tyler was throwing fists. When I turned to look at you again, you were gone! I was so worried!” It comes out all in a rush, and I’m panting by the time I finish.
He’s staring at me with wide eyes, his mouth hanging open slightly.
He laughs airily, his lips curling up in his usual smirk. “Mom and Gracie, this is Ava—my girlfriend.”
I whip my head up to see the mother and daughter from earlier sitting in two chairs pushed up against the wall.
Holy shit, this is so not happening right now. Heat creeps up my neck as I wave at them awkwardly.
“Oh my! It’s so nice to see you again, dear.”
Gracie snickers to herself when Anne jumps up from her seat to greet me. She rushes over and pulls me in for a hug. She smells like peppermint and fresh linen, instantly reminding me of my mom. I look over her shoulder at Oakley. He seems confused, presumably as to how I already know his mom and sister.
“I knew I had a good feeling about you,” Gracie smirks.
“Uh, is anyone going to explain this to me? I’m confused,” Oakley puts in suddenly. I smile shyly while Gracie explains.
“I was just talking to Mom about how hot Tyler looked before your game started. Mom started embarrassing me, and then we met Ava. Mom just introduced herself like a total weirdo.”
“Tyler is not hot. He is way too old for you,” he glares.
Gracie rolls her eyes and crosses her arms. “Is that the only thing you took from that? You are ridiculous. I don’t know why you’re putting up with him, Ava. He is a real ass.”
They continue their banter for a few minutes while Anne and I stand back and watch. He’s extremely protective of his sister, but he doesn’t need to worry about Tyler. I don’t know much about his type, but I doubt he’s into underage, sixteen-year-old girls.
“Okay, that’s enough. We have company!” their mother shouts, breaking them apart.
Oakley gives me a swoon-worthy grin and holds his good arm out in front of him for a hug. I shake my head gently, not wanting to intrude on their family moment. He rolls his eyes and stands up off the bed. He walks over and pulls me into his side with his uninjured arm. My entire body relaxes instantly at his touch. I, very gingerly, wrap my arms around his neck to return the gesture.
We hug for what feels like hours, trapped in our little world. My worries and nerves finally leave now that I know he’s safe and okay. The sound of the soft click of the door pulls my attention away from him.
“Finally,” Oakley heaves a deep sigh. “I didn’t want to ask them to leave but I’ve wanted to do this since the minute you walked in here.”
I open my mouth to ask him what he’s talking about when he presses his mouth against mine. I stand up on my tiptoes and lean into the kiss,
I relish in the calm, dizzy feeling that takes over my body whenever we touch.
Then I remember I still have no idea what happened or how he’s doing and pull away frantically.
“You never answered me when I asked you what happened out there. So? What’s the diagnosis?”
He sighs again and pulls me over to one of the chairs against the wall. He sits down and pats his leg. With slight hesitation, I sit on his lap. He wraps his good arm around my waist and leans forward, resting his chin on my shoulder.
“I didn’t see him coming. I know I should be more aware—being public enemy number one to every player and their dog—but I didn’t see him. Regardless, it was a dirty hit and it sent me on my ass. I have a bruised tailbone and a dislocated collarbone. I could do without the scrape on my chin and the sore tongue, but it’s nothing serious. I’m lucky.”
I let out the breath I didn’t know I was holding. “How long are you out for?”
“I’ll be riding the pine for three to four weeks—if I’m lucky,” he grumbles, his grip around my waist tightening.
“At least it’s just the beginning of the season. You’ll be playing before you know it.”
I know my words don’t do much to lighten his mood, but I would do anything to cheer him up.
“Thank you, beautiful. You always know what to say,” he murmurs, rubbing his thumb against the skin beneath the jersey I’m wearing.
This might not be the ideal situation, but sitting here with Oakley is exactly where I want to be.
