Page 23 of Power Play

Romney and Rust ran to him followed by Amelia and paramedics.

Hartman wasn’t moving. I couldn’t hear his voice. He usually reassured us with a raised thumb by now. I stood with the rest of the team. This wasn’t like the hit Nikolai took.

Even though I promised myself I wouldn’t, I looked for the Pride. They were directly across from us. Kendall stood in the center with her hand over her mouth, shaking. The other women hugged her, holding her arms.

My eyes went back to Hartman. Still no movement. The paramedics loaded him onto the stretcher.

Lucy was pushing past the other people in their row, pulling Colby along. Colby was holding Kendall’s hand who was also holding Sydney with Taylor trailing behind them. They knew what was happening. They were heading to the hospital. Kendall tripped over a step, and I watched with growing desperation as Taylor helped her up and put Kendall’s arm around her shoulder.

There was no cheering, no sticks slapping as Hartman was taken away. We were silent, solemn. No one wanted to see players hurt like this, not the audience or the teams. I turned and looked at the Storms bench. The guy who hit our captain was gone, likely sent to the locker room. He would probably face a multigame suspension like his buddy that took out Nikolai. The league didn’t let injuries like these go without punishment. That would put us all at risk.

No, he would pay. And for the remaining fourteen minutes of the game, so would the rest of the Storm.

When we went back to play, none of us held back. There were more penalties given on both sides than in the first two games combined.

I ended up throwing my gloves after checking a guy. He punched my jaw, and I lost all thought. The only thing I wanted to do was destroy him. Gavin and Vaughn had to pull me off him, and I got tossed into the sin bin for two minutes.

Despite the blind rage we were all operating on, we lost. By one stupid point.

None of us spoke as we stomped back to the locker room. Rust was the only one left, and didn’t yet have an update on Hartman’s condition. I looked around at each of the guys. We were covered in blood, but no one seemed to notice or care. We were bruised and beaten but more concerned about our captain than ourselves.

Minutes passed in silence.

Finally, Rust got the call. Hartman had woken up. He had a concussion and dislocated shoulder. He would be out for at least two weeks. We were on our own for the rest of the series.

I slumped forward and held my head in my hands. I could feel the championship being pulled further away, out of reach.

9

Taylor

I was sick to my stomach. Having been around hockey in high school, I was used to hard hits and injuries. But seeing Hartman go completely still sent a chill down my spine. The women stood before they even took him off the ice. I tried to stay behind, but they wouldn’t listen. When Kendall asked me to come, I caved.

Kendall didn’t stop shaking, even after we got to the hospital. We all knew what an impact like that could mean. His helmet flew off like someone had thrown it. I felt like I was imposing on a private moment, but when I tried to excuse myself, Kendall’s hand shot out and grabbed mine. Her pleading eyes held me in place, and I dropped back into my seat. Colby put her arm around my shoulders and squeezed.

“We’re all family.”

I understood that, but I wasn’t really a part of this. But, it wasn’t the time or place to argue that. If they wanted me there, I would stay.

We surrounded Kendall in the emergency room lobby, our group growing as the coach and trainer joined, then the team. Noah took a seat next to Colby, and the rest of the women paired off with their husbands and boyfriends. Jason glanced at me, but stayed with the guys. This wasn’t what anyone planned or hoped for. Especially losing the game. I knew they did everything they could to vindicate their captain.

It wasn’t until Hartman was in a room after tests and exams and scans that Kendall was able to see him. Hours after the game ended. I watched her disappear behind the doors and sighed. Jason took the seat across from me, saying nothing. Our eyes met, and I saw more pain than I expected. He had an angry bruise on his right cheekbone. I wanted to reach out and see if he was okay, but it didn’t feel like the right moment. Or something that I had permission to do. Not like I once did.

A coach and a few players from the Storm stopped by. I expected a fight to break out, but their arrival was treated like a peace offering. At the end of the day, these were all just people who loved hockey. People with lives outside the arena. Fellow athletes that wanted to go home to their families and loved ones. Maybe in the heat of the moment, a hit was intentional, but I had a hard time believing anyone wished to severely injure another player. At least, I hoped.

A while later, Coach Romney told everyone to head back to the hotel and rest, but no one moved. Jason’s eyes flickered to mine, and he nodded toward the exit. He stood and I followed him out. Was this his way of getting rid of me? He wasn’t there when Kendall grabbed my hand. I wasn’t there for him. I was waiting to make sure she was okay.

Once we were outside, he fell against a pillar. It was like his last reserve of strength disappeared. “This is a nightmare.”

I moved to his side, our shoulders close enough that I felt his warmth on my skin. “I’m so sorry. I can’t believe it.”

“I can’t say this in front of the guys.” His voice was so low, so drained. I tilted my head so I could see his face. “I don’t think we’ll make it. Nikolai’s loss was felt tonight. It put a strain on us, but we were pulling it off. This ... this is too much.”

Without looking down, I slid my hand over until our pinkies touched. I froze, waiting for him to make the next move. It was more than an impulse to touch him. It was like my body was drawn to him. An ancient habit. Okay, four years wasn’t ancient but it might as well have been for how distant the memory of his body was.

His finger twitched. Paused. Then wrapped around mine. Only about an inch or two of our skin made contact, but it filled me with as much excitement and uncertainty as if we were tangled up in each other.

We stood like that as minutes or hours passed. I couldn’t give him more. Not yet. But it seemed to be enough. When his body straightened, and I knew he’d recovered, I stepped away, out of his touch, and rubbed my neck. “I should go.”