Page 80 of Her Player

I had a half-second of time inside that stretched-out second, and I spent it on her.

Victoria up in the VIP box with her arms crossed. Victoria’s hand under mine in the car. Victoria asleep against my chest at the estate. Victoria standing in the shower under the hot water and crying without apologizing for it. Three years of every version of her, played back so fast they almost overlapped, and underneath all of it the one steady thought I’d been carrying around since I was old enough to know my mother wasn’t coming back.

Don’t leave the people who choose you. Whatever the cost. Don’t be the one who walks out.

I skated in front of him just in time to take the fucking blow. An intentional blow. One that felt more personal than anything else. One second, I was glaring at the tree on skates sprinting straight for my best friend. And in the next second, I flipped head over heels. In the fucking air. With my goddamn skates on.

At some point in time, my helmet got tossed off my head like a rock leaving a sling before my neck crunched against the ice.

And the last thing I thought before everything went dark was that I hoped she could see me from the box. That I hoped she knew exactly who I’d been thinking about.

That I hoped, if this was it, she’d know I’d chosen her in the last second I’d had to choose anything.

28

VICTORIA

I stood to my feet as the crowd went wild. As the puck sank itself into the goal. But my eyes weren’t on the score. They weren’t on the alarm. They weren’t on the flashing red light.

They were on Rhett.

Who didn’t move on the ice.

“No,” I said breathlessly as I tore out of my VIP box. “Rhett, get up.”

I whispered it to myself as I charged down the stairs. I took them two by two until I pushed out into Caldwell Arena and weaved my way through the crowd. Some of them cheered. Some of them chanted Jett’s name. Others downed the rest of their beers, shoving food into their faces by the fistful so that it wouldn’t be wasted.

And yet all I did was charge forward.

“Rhett!” I exclaimed as I leapt over the barrier and onto the ice. “Rhett! Get the fuck up!”

He hadn’t moved an inch. He just lay there as medics rushed out onto the ice.

“Rhett!” I cried out, making my way across the ice.

I slid out of the way of flying punches. I didn’t even know who the fuck was fighting. Officials charged toward that side of the rink left and right while I shoved through the cacophony. I dodged punches. I moved out of the way of skidding bodies. It was fucking mayhem; one of the best hockey games I’d ever seen.

And Rhett still hadn’t moved.

“Rhett,” I said breathlessly as I got to his side. “Rhett, you’ve got to open your eyes.”

“Ma’am, step back,” one of the paramedics said.

I glowered at him. “Over my dead fucking body. Now, wake him the fuck up. Bust out some smelling salts and do whatever the hell it is you do.”

The paramedic looked at me with a sympathetic expression. “Then stand back and let us work.”

“Mama, come on,” I heard my daughter say as her small hands gripped my arm from behind.

“No,” I said as I yanked out of her grasp. I bent over Rhett and cupped his cheeks. “Rhett, you have to open your eyes. Rhett, please.”

Tears streaked my cheeks. His face faded in and out. Sometimes it was Rhett. But sometimes it was Ryan. I blinked heavily, brushing at my tears. I didn’t care what it did to my makeup. I didn’t care what I looked like.

“Rhett, you have to wake up. Please. You’re scaring me,” I said breathlessly.

“Ma’am, we have to lift him,” one of the paramedics said.

“Come on, Mom, I know where they’re taking him,” Brynn said.