Chapter 10

We're on the ice for our last night in Vancouver and the energy in the arena is high. My warmup stretches before the game were solid and my body feels good going into tonight. Much better than yesterday. As the team runs through their drills I focus on my own warm-up. Gliding back and forth, shuffling from one foot to another in quick succession and sliding along the ice with one leg outstretched and then the other. I bend at the waist and stretch my hamstrings and then drop to my knees for a groin stretch, putting as much pressure on my inner thighs as I can.

"Lookin' good Sir Humps-a-Lot!" Dex smiles as he skates around me. "Puttin' on a good show for the ladies, I see."

"Yep," I answer with a chuckle I know he can't hear. "Just needed to cool off my nuts before the big game, Foster. They're so large, you see. I wouldn't want to set them on fire with the friction and all."

"I don't know. Swollen nuts sounds a like a problem for a doctor to solve."

"Nah, they're not swollen. Just weighed down by all of my offspring for your mom to suck down later."

Dex cackles at my teasing. "Right. Hey, more power to you, man." He skates off laughing as I finish my stretches and prepare to block a few warmup shots. I feel good.

Loose.

Comfortable.

Ready to win this game and get home to my ladies.

I haven't stopped thinking about Ada since last night. Well, in all honestly, she's all I've thought about since before we left town, but she's been a constant on my mind since we talked last night. She was on my mind when I came all over myself before falling asleep and she was on my mind again when I jizzed in the shower this morning. She's definitely taking over my every thought. Without going too far in depth about our personal lives, I was able to learn why she had those boudoir pictures taken and how she feels about getting back on the horse, so to speak, in terms of her dating life. Hearing her say she didn't have those pictures taken for another man calmed this odd rage-y feeling in my chest and replaced it with curiosity.

Wonder.

Intrigue.

I'm probably crazy for even considering the idea of something happening between Ada and me. She's my kid's nanny for Christ's sake. But I can't help it. She's infiltrated my mind and I have a feeling she's there to stay.

___

The middle of the second period has us in the lead three to two. The Vancouver Wolves are a strong team this season but I'll be damned if I allow another fucking puck into my net. At the next face off, Landric shoots the puck to Malone who goes wide around the net giving possession to Foster. Dex launches it forward but Vancouver blocks his attempt. He chips the rebound back toward the net but it's blocked again.

"Come on, guys."

Ovchevik steals the puck for Vancouver and it's passed back and forth as the play comes my way. Shay tries to take control but he's checked by Rowling. Cornell snaps the puck narrowly missing the net when it banks off my pads. I shift back and forth from one leg to the next as the fight to get the puck in our net heightens. Rowling is on it again, shooting from my left, but I drop to my knees and butterfly my legs for the block, my groin muscle pulling slightly as I go down.

"Fuck!"

Vancouver is relentless in their pursuit of their next goal. The pressure is all on me to block each and every attempt they make while my guys fight like hell to retake possession. There's a flurry of activity around the net as the guys on both teams are shouting at one another, their sticks slamming together trying to grab the puck. Ovchevik leads the Wolves around the net to my right and I'm fast on my feet shifting sides and extending my right pad to block his shot.

And that's when all hell breaks loose.

I'm pushed back into the net, my leg still in its extended position and something in my upper thigh twists.

"AH! Fuck!"

I fall forward on the ice, the muscle in my right upper thigh spasming on the inside.

"Shit!"

"Whoa, whoa whoa!" I hear Nelson shout. "He's down. Miller's down!"

I hear a whistle blow as my team surrounds me.

"Zeke, you okay?" Nelson asks from his knees in front of me. "Talk to me."

Trying to catch my breath and not panic, I slam my hand down on the ice. "My leg! Fuck! It's my leg."

Milo's hand is on my back and he motions for our team trainers and medical staff. "Groin pull?"

"I don't know." I groan. "Maybe. It fucking hurts."

Jason, my personal team trainer, is next to me in a matter of seconds. "Talk to me, Zeke."

"I overextended Jason. Fuck! I think it's my groin. Inner thigh. I can feel it throbbing. Like it's twisted inside and seizing."

"Alright sounds like a muscle spasm. We need to get you off the ice. Do you think you can move it?"

"If I try, it might be the first time you see me cry, man."

"We've got him," Colby tells Jason. He and Milo reach down together, picking me up and guiding me off the ice on one skate so I can allow my injured leg to be as motionless as possible.

"You've got this, Miller. You're going to be okay, man."

I cringe and say nothing as I'm passed off to the training team.

Fucking fuck.

The medical team gets me undressed and onto the examination table so Jason can quickly diagnose the problem. All the while, a million thoughts are surging through my head.

Are we winning yet?

Was Ray warmed up enough to take my place?

How could I have been so goddamn stupid?

Did I not stretch enough?

How does a fucking muscle twist itself that easily?

What the hell did I do?

Am I out?

How many games?

Shit. Was this it?

Is this an injury I can't come back from?

Did I just end my hockey career with a fucking groin injury?

Am I going to need a cane?

I'm not walking with a fucking cane for the rest of my life.

I do not want a goddamn nurse in my house.

Unless her name is Ada.

Fuck…Elsie.

Did she see me get hurt?

Were they watching?

What time is it in Chicago?

Fuck!

I have to make it back to the ice.

"Jason." I grit my teeth as he palpates my right thigh. "Fuck, that hurts."

"Yeah, I know," he says softly. "I can feel it."

"What's going on?"

"The good news is I think you just over-extended and twisted the muscle. It's definitely kinked a bit and that's what you feel spasming."

"It's never done that before. Why now?"

He shakes his head. "Hard to tell until we do an MRI. Could be a weakening groin muscle that could cause you bigger problems later. Or it could just be a fluke and you went down the wrong way and it's seizing."

"So, I can get back in the game?"

He huffs a laugh. "Can you play on one leg?"

"Fuck you, asshole."

"That's what I thought. You're done for the night."

Not what I wanted to hear.

I squeeze my eyes closed. "And then?"

He's quiet as he gently pulls my leg out to the side. I wince and inhale a sharp breath as he stretches me. "Can you bring your leg back in?" he asks as he adds a bit of resistance. He watches as I follow his instruction and nods. "Good. How much does that hurt?"

"Like a fucking bitch."

"Okay. That's enough." He massages my thigh, trying to knead through the kink in my muscle and add compression to the pained area. "I think we get you into an ice bath and then reassess in the morning assuming the pain goes away. If it's just a kink, and I'm thinking that's what it is, the pain should subside relatively quickly. Like getting a Charlie horse. But if the pain persists throughout the night, we have bigger fish to fry."

"I hate fish, Jason."

He gives me a sympathetic smile and squeezes my leg. "I know you do, Zeke. I promise I'm going to do all I can to get you back on that ice, but you need to promise me you won't push it too soon. In case nobody has said it lately, you're no spring chicken."

"I love you too, man," I tell him with two middle fingers.

___

Five and a half hours later, though who knows what time it really is here in Chicago, I'm finally home. I considered getting a hotel room for the night so I wasn't coming home late and scaring Ada or Elsie, but damn, I sure could use a good night's sleep in my own bed tonight. My leg feels better but it's still sore. I hate that I'm babying it as much as I am but I need to get back on that ice. Tomorrow is going to kill me if Coach puts me on the injured list.

"Hey." I hear her before I see her. Dropping my bags by the door I look up to see Ada walking over from the living room, a concerned look on her face.

"What are you doing up?"

She looks at me like I'm crazy. "Are you kidding? I've been worried sick since you were taken off the ice."

"I told Carissa to text you."

"She did. That doesn't mean I'm going to go to bed like I don't give a shit, Zeke. You're hurt. What can I do to help?"

By all means I get that I should probably be thankful she gives a shit about my wellbeing but after the emotions of the night, the adrenaline spike followed by the energy drop, the pain and relative fear of the unknown, I'm just not in the mood to be the nice guy.

"Nothing. I just want to go to bed."

"Okay. I'll get your bags for you." She steps forward but I hold out my arm to stop her.

"Just leave it."

"No, it's fine. Don't worry. I can—"

"I said leave it, Ada!"

She freezes and stares at me wide-eyed and taken aback. As if I just hit her. For a moment I feel bad but it's been a long fucking day and I need time alone in the solace of my own room so I can process all the shit going on in my head. Without saying another word, I forget about the drink I was going to have and cautiously walk up the steps and into my room. Shutting the door behind me, I exhale a long breath and rub the tension from my forehead.

Sleep.

I just need sleep.

Tugging off my clothes, I toss them in the hamper and sit down on the edge of my bed. I turn my body one leg at a time, my left leg sliding under the covers with no problem, my right leg reminding me it hasn't had the best night when I lift it. I take my last waking minutes to replay part of the night in my head, trying to remember exactly what I did that caused this stupid injury. It's not like I haven't made the same move in my pads hundreds of times.

Was I not warmed up enough?

Did I forget a stretch or two?

Whatever it was I can only attribute the fact I'm lying here with an injury that will undoubtedly keep me out of our next game to one thing.

No. Not really one thing.

One person.

Ada Lewis.

Perhaps had I not been so hung up on her these last few days I wouldn't have been distracted. I would've made certain my body was ready for tonight's game and I wouldn't be lying here in bed with an injury I possibly could have avoided.

Yeah, that's right, asshole.

Blame Ada.

This is all her fault.

I know it's not.

But tonight, I'm too defeated to deal with it.

Tonight, I just need someone else to blame.

___

"Daddyyyyy!" Elsie's piercing scream stirs me from my sleep. "Daaaaddy!" Her cries echo down the hallway. I'm so damn groggy it takes me a hot second to realize Elsie really is crying for me.

"I'm coming!" I try to spring out of bed to run to Elsie's room but am forced to slow down when my leg doesn't move as fast as I want it to. Wondering if she's sick or if she's had a bad dream, I pull my door open, and step out to get to her. Then remember I'm in my underwear.

Ada.

Shit.

Trying to do the gentlemanly thing, I spin back around to grab my pajama pants and that's when it happens.

The same fucking muscle in my leg seizes and starts to spasm and I'm helpless and on the floor, cringing in pain all over again.

"Fuck!"

"Daaaddy!"

Ada's bedroom door swings open and she flies into the hallway.

"Elsie?" She looks toward Elsie's room ready to run there when she hears me cursing on my bedroom floor.

Her brows furrow as she takes in the sight of me on the floor, in my underwear, gasping in pain, and she turns back toward my room. "Oh, my God, Zeke. Are you—"

"I'm good," I pant, holding my leg.

I'm so not good.

"I'll be fine."

Pretty sure that's a lie.

She shakes her head, crouching down near me. "But you're—"

"Elsie." I wave her off in the direction of Elsie's bedroom. "Check on Elsie. Please! She needs you."

Ada nods and all I can do is watch helplessly as she quietly enters my daughter's bedroom. I hear a few mumbles between them but can't hear what they're saying. I hear Ada singing a song I don't recognize and then there are a few quiet moments. I take the time to pull myself back toward my bed, resting against the side of the mattress before Ada is back in the hallway pulling Elsie's door closed.

Her sympathetic eyes meet mine and she sees the pain I'm enduring. She's on her knees beside me in an instant. "What can I do? Should I call nine-one-one?"

"Is she okay?"

"Yeah. She's fine. Bad dream. She's still getting over that little virus she had, so I gave her a little Tylenol to help take the edge off and sang her back to sleep. She's all good. Tell me what I can do."

I shake my head. "No. I'll be okay." I hiss through my teeth. "I can do it."

"BULLSHIT." Her stare pierces me. "You're not yelling at me again. It's okay to ask for help and I'm right here. Tell me what to do, Zeke."

My head falls back against the side of the mattress. "I just need—"

"What? What do you need? Talk to me."

Finally relenting, I gesture to the inside of my right thigh. "Pressure. It's a muscle kink and Jason held it as tightly as he could."

"Pressure," Ada repeats as if she's psyching herself up for the job. She lays her hands on my thigh, gripping the inside as tightly as she can. "Like this?"

"Yeah."

I want to close my eyes and pretend I am not sitting here in the darkness of my goddamn bedroom with the hot nanny's hands dangerously close to my dick, because if I so much as look at her right now, even though I'm in pain…

Fuck.

Do not think about it, Miller.

For the love of Christ think about literally anything else!