Page 186 of Make Me Mean It

So much worse.

There’s a crack running along the edge of his visor, and for one horrible second my eyes catch on it before dropping to his chest. It’s moving. Thank fuck, it’s moving, but every breath looks wrong, shallow and uneven, barely lifting his pads. Blood darkens the corner of his mouth, smeared over his lips and disappearing beneath the edge of his helmet.

“Theo,” I breathe, and his name shakes so badly I barely recognise my own voice.

My hand hovers over him because I don’t know where I can touch him. I don’t know what’s hurt, what I’ll make worse, and suddenly I’m terrified of putting my hands anywhere when all I want to do is fucking grab him.

My fingers finally brush the side of his helmet.

His eyelids twitch.

Then he coughs.

The sound is weak and wet, tearing through him hard enough that his face twists, but relief hits me so violently my own breath catches.

“Theo. Fuck.”

His hand scrapes uselessly against his helmet, fingers fumbling for the edge like he’s trying to get it off, the movement slow and uncoordinated.

“Here.” I catch his hand before he can keep fighting with it. “Let me.”

I don’t know if I’m supposed to. I don’t fucking care.

I ease the helmet away as carefully as I can and toss it onto the ice beside us, already reaching for him again when his head lolls sideways.

Straight onto my thigh.

My entire chest caves in.

I shift closer automatically, one hand sliding behind his head to support him, and Theo blinks slowly up at me.

Then the fucking idiot smiles.

There’s blood on his teeth.

Blood on his mouth.

His eyes can barely fucking focus and he still looks at me like there’s something funny about finding me here.

“What’re you doing here, princess?” he rasps.

Another cough tears through him before I can answer.

“Jesus Christ.” I shake my head, my vision blurring as I slide my fingers into his hair, pushing the damp strands away from his forehead. My hand is fucking shaking. I can see it shaking against him and I can’t make it stop. “You’re such a fucking idiot.”

Theo hums.

Just this tiny, soft sound as his eyes slip closed for a second beneath my touch.

It nearly fucking destroys me.

My palm moves to his cheek before I can think better of it, thumb brushing carefully along his jaw, and Theo turns into me.

No hesitation.

No thinking about it.

He just fucking leans into my hand like he always does, his face settling into my palm, and for a second everything else disappears. The rink. The crowd. Marcus. The fucking cameras probably pointed straight at us.