Page 38 of Face Off

“I don’t know what to tell you, Mikey.”

There. Her voice wavered just a tiny bit. It was bad news.

“What’s going on?”

“I compared the x-rays from last year, after you completed physical therapy and I cleared you to return to play, and the ones we took today.” She sighed. “There’s another fracture that didn’t heal properly. It’s called a malunion.”

I swallowed. “How is that possible? How could I have broken my ankle, again, without feeling it?”

“I’m not sure. Maybe you assumed the pain was from straining it while working out or just tender from recovery.” She stood and hung the two images next to each other, then turned on the backlight. “Here is last year’s, and this is today’s.” She pointed to a jagged line in my bone that clearly didn’t belong.

“What do I do?” Did I even want to know?

“It depends on what your plans are.” She studied me. “With what you said about the pressure from the GM and president, maybe it’s time to consider retirement.”

No. That couldn’t be the answer.

I slumped into my chair. “I’m not ready.”

She sat on the edge of her desk. “Most athletes aren’t, but you need to listen to your body.”

“My body? I’m twenty-eight. I should have another five years, minimum. Most guys get another seven to ten.”

“That would be ideal,” she agreed. “But not everyone gets that. Things aren’t always in our control. You can train and practice and do everything right, but that doesn’t mean things will work out how you want.”

I knew that. Obviously, I was well aware of that fact, but I didn’t want to listen. Not right now. Not when it came to me.

“If you want to keep playing, and you think you can change the minds of management—” She hesitated, and I felt bad for putting her in the middle of this. Her dad was our coach, but I knew he didn’t have much control over this situation either. “Then you’ll need surgery. We should do it sooner rather than later, but if you want to wait until after the season––”

“I have to. I can’t give them any reason to move forward with ending my contract.”

“Mikey, it’s not the best decision for you though. For your future.”

“It’s the only choice I have. If I’ve made it this long, then what’s another month or two?”

She frowned. “I’ve noticed.”

“What?”

“I’ve noticed you favor your right side. Last weekend, you tweaked it and you played it off, but I saw you lean on your left for the rest of the game. If I saw it, then so did your teammates, your coaches, and management. The last thing you need is your opponents finding out you have a weak spot.”

I rubbed my face. “It gets sore sometimes.”

“Yeah, because you have a malunion.”

“I’ve lasted this long.” I wasn’t sure who I was trying to convince, me or her.

“I know.” She sighed. “I’ll keep this to myself, but I really don’t think you should put off surgery. There is life beyond the game.”

I wasn’t sure that was true. Not for me at least. I’d given up everything to get where I was. All my friends, my family, my education. Hockey always came first. Without the team, who was I?

“Thanks, Madi.” I stood, and she walked me out to the lobby.

“Call me if you need anything.” She gave me a hug.

“I will.” I stepped back and forced a smile.

I wanted to go home and sulk alone for a while, but that wasn’t an option. We had mandatory training this afternoon, so I had to go face my teammates without letting the worry and disappointment show on my face.