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Hollis
Walking away from you is the hardest thing I’ve ever done.
CHAPTER 16
HOLLIS
We’re playing against Florida tonight, and it’s been a rough game. We’re down two goals, and we’re already five minutes into the third period. With only six weeks left in the regular season, we’re looking for wins and goals, not this shit.
The arena is packed, the girls are sitting in the box, and it’s getting harder not to notice how good Aurora looks these days. It doesn’t matter that weeks have passed since our kiss; it’s on a constant loop in my head. I drag my eyes away from the box, grateful Hammerstein is in the net, so he can’t see me watching his daughter.
Stiles and Madden rotate off, and I rotate on with Bright. We gain control of the puck a few seconds in, but Florida is on their game, making it difficult to get within shooting range. Bright skates into the crease, passing to Spencer. I get into position, and he fires the puck my way, but it bounces off the end of my stick before I can protect it.
It’s a mad scramble as Florida closes in, sticks slapping against each other as we fight for possession. I lose the puck, and Spencer chases it down the ice, gaining control again. It’s another thirty seconds of high-speed skating, me and Bright passing the puck back and forth, Florida on our heels. I take the shot, but I’m facing right, instead of left, so I’m half a second too slow making the turn in the crease and a Florida player slams into me.
It shouldn’t be the kind of hit that does damage. I hear the pop and feel the snap, followed by agony that steals my vision. I land on my back on the ice. The roar of pain is all-consuming as the whistle blows. The crowd screams and boos.
Breathing feels like an impossible task. It hurts so much.
“Hendrix, man, hey, hey, look at me. Look at me.” Bright is right there, his huge body creating a barricade between me and everything else.
I blink him into focus and try to sit up.
“Stay down.” He puts a gloved hand on my chest. “I heard it. I heard the pop.” He shakes his head. “Don’t try to stand up. You don’t want to make it worse.”
“It’s the same fucking knee,” I grit out as panic takes hold.
“I know, buddy. I’m sorry.” He turns to the ref. “Get medical. He can’t walk off the ice.”
I’m surrounded by my teammates. The game is paused while they stabilize my leg—that induces more vision-stealing pain. I’m moved to a stretcher and carried off the ice. Numbing fear settles under my skin. This could be a career-ending hit. I don’t want to believe that tonight was my last game. I won’t.
I’m taken to the hospital and rushed in for X-rays and scans. My phone is blowing up with messages from my family. But I can’t respond yet. Not when I have no idea what’s going on. The doctors murmur to each other, examining the X-rays. I can tell by the looks on their faces that the news isn’t good. “I need surgery again,” I say through gritted teeth.
I’m grateful the team doctor came with me, because I’d rather hear whatever needs to be said from him than some guy I don’t know. “I’m sorry, Hollis.”
“Fuck. Fuck.” I run a hand through my hair. “How bad is it this time?”
“The good news is it’s a straight reattachment,” he says.
“The healing time is better on that, right? Quicker.” I could be back on the ice in a matter of weeks.
“Technically, yes. But you’ve already had one surgery, and we don’t know how your body will handle this. We’ll know more once we get inside and fix you up.”
“I’ll be able to play again, though, right?” I’m not ready for this to be the end. It can’t be.
“We’ll do everything we can to make that happen, Hollis.”
I hear what he doesn’t say—that I need to be prepared for any outcome, including the end of my career. “How soon is surgery?”
“They’re prepping a room now. So within the next hour or so. You want to make a few phone calls, reassure your family you’re okay, now is the time.”
My sister Micha has called three times already. She’s five years younger than me and has a daughter named Elsa. She and Mike live a couple of hours away in Niagara. She picks up on the first ring.
“Are you okay? Please tell me you’re okay and that hit looked worse than it is.” Micha’s voice shakes.
“I’m okay, but I’m heading into surgery soon.” My stomach twists and rolls as I verbalize it.
“No. Oh no, Hollis. I’m sorry. Should I come up? I can get a sitter and come up. You need someone with you for this.”
