CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

A skirmish occurs, and Luke falls to the ground. I frown, confused.

“What happened?” My stomach churns, acid spilling through it, even though I know what happened. I saw what happened.

He got hit.

“He’ll be fine. You’ll see.” Flora frowns. “Probably.”

But of course, it’s a big deal.

He’s injured.

There’s nothing more terrible. Nothing more horrible.

Why isn’t he getting up? He needs to get up.

But he doesn’t.

In the end, medics rush toward him. And finally, after ten anguishing seconds, he moves.

Oh, God.

“He’s fine,” I say. “He’s going to be fine.”

Flora gives me a sympathetic look. “Yeah, he’s going to be fine.”

He doesn’t remain on the ice though, and he doesn’t join his line on the bench. My fingers tremble, and I clasp my hands together. The world blurs and spins.

Please let him be okay. Please let him be okay. Please let him be okay.

Flora frowns, then leans toward me, whispering in my ear. “The cameras are probably getting your reaction.”

My stomach tumbles. “What do you mean?”

“I think he likes you too. Why don’t you see if you can check on him?”

I stiffen. Our conversation has veered from the inappropriate to the absolutely inappropriate. Flora is a contestant. And she’s talking about us like...

I should tell her she has it all wrong. But all I can think is that I want to visit him.

“I’m not a family member.”

“Are any of his family members here?”

I shake my head.

“You can say it’s a show thing,” Flora says, giving a casual gesture.

“Why would you think I want to see him?” My voice is clipped.

God, they know.

“You two are a trending hashtag,” Flora says.

“You’re not supposed to be looking on social media,” I grumble.

“Oops.” Flora gives a sheepish grin. “Guess I had two phones or something.”

“Don’t tell anyone,” I say.

“It’s just a...crush.” I hate the way the word feels in my mouth. I hate the way it feels on my tongue. I hate the way it sears my mouth, as if I’m swallowing fire or something.

I feel like a ten-year old boy when I say it. Because my soul knows it’s more. Whatever I feel for Luke, and none of it, face it is good, is strong. I feel swept into a whirlpool, pulled into a strange world of fish, where I’m used to mammals, and coral, where I’m used to plants.

Alicia, one of the WAGs, glances up from her phone at me. “You need to go down there. He’s calling for you.”

Ella and Mateo frown, but I’m already on my feet.

“He probably is worried about the show,” Flora says, even though that’s totally not her job. She’s a contestant.

I nod all the same. “Yeah. I’ll reassure him.”

And then I hurry away, before Mateo can suggest I record the whole thing or something. I hurry through the concrete service tunnels beneath the arena, lit by harsh fluorescent lights. My press pass gets me through security, but my heart pounds as I approach the final checkpoint, knowing Luke is waiting somewhere beyond those steel doors, injured and alone while the game continues without him above.

LUKE

Pain inundates my body, settling in each cell, and turning them to acid. I’m on an examination table. I try to leave.

“Wait!” Dr. Novak rushes toward me. “Lie back down. You’re in no position to return to the ice.”

I blink at her. “I know.”

Her eyebrows do some sort of upward movement thing, and I wish she would keep still, because my head already hurts, and the world is already spilling.

“Stay still,” I murmur.

She sighs. “Lie back down, Luke. You can’t play.”

“Not trying to play,” I grumble. “Trying to—”

“What do you need?”

“Sebastian.”

“I—” She moves through her papers. “Is Sebastian your emergency contact? I have your brother Bryce down—”

“No. Not Bryce! He can’t come. He’s in Massachusetts.”

“Sebastian Archer?” Even though my head is pounding, even though information moves through my veins and neuron pathways slowly, like I’m forcing sludge through my body, I remember his name. “He does the TV show.”

“Oh, god, yes.” Dr. Novak gives me a bright smile. “He’s the skinny blond.”

I frown, because I’m pretty sure that’s not a good description of him. I shake my head. “No.”

“Oh.”

“Slender,” I explain. “Face like a...doll. Big blue eyes. Not too close together. Perfect.”

Dr. Novak’s face turns alarmed. I hope she doesn’t think I’m worse than she said.

“It’s not serious, is it?” I point at my head.

“The pain? You’re going to be fine, Luke. I promise. You just need a lot of rest. I can’t authorize your flight back. Flying might not be good for you right now.”

“Need...Sebastian.”

She nods. “I’ve notified the WAG group to tell him to come down.”

“He doesn’t know his way around hockey arenas. He’ll get lost.”

She smiles, and her eyes soften. “I think I see him now, Luke.”

I frown at her, because I can’t see anyone, but she does some sort of hand gesture, and Sebastian appears before me.

His blue eyes are round with worry, and I think maybe he’s trembling, but maybe my head is making everything jumpy.

“I’m okay,” I promise him. “I’m going to be fine.”

“G-good.”

Shit.

I made him worried. Maybe I shouldn’t have asked him to come here. Maybe that made him more worried.

He still trembles, like an autumn leaf who knows it’s going to be ripped from the tree it’s adored and has spent its life in, only to fall onto the asphalt, be driven in by cars, before it’s finally swept into a garbage bag and set on fire.

I grasp onto his hand, clutching it within mine. “I’m fine.”

His eyes round, then his lips swerve upward. They glisten, and I wonder if he has ChapStick on. Sebastian probably knows what to wear when it’s cold and dry. He knows how to look perfect.

“I’m glad,” Sebastian says.

I run a finger along his palm. It’s smaller than mine and far softer. “Soft.”

“Yeah?” He grins at me, and his eyes float upward, as if he’s seeing me and something even nicer, something that makes him smile.

Dr. Novak smiles. “I see you two have become good friends.”

Sebastian’s face pales, and he shakes his head.

I frown. I liked his first expression better.

Sebastian drops his hand, pulling it away from him. It’s probably good not to insist I hold onto him, but I frown, like I’ve been wearing my favorite sweater, and someone has taken it off me against my will.

“Luke was probably wondering where I was because of the show,” Sebastian says in that composed TV voice. “He is exceedingly dedicated. We at Falcon Productions are so thrilled to be working with him. It is a real pleasure. I am, um, honored I can help him toward his path to find true love.”

“Well. I’m glad you made it,” Dr. Novak says.

“Is he going to be okay?” Sebastian asks Dr. Novak.

“He’ll be fine.”

“That’s great. Magnificent . He’ll be able to play again?”

“There shouldn’t be any issues.”

Relief spreads over his face, and he grins at me again, before his face goes all solemn, like a man accidentally smiling at a funeral. Pink stains his cheeks. “We at Falcon Productions would like to impart our utmost relief and good wishes.”

“But he’s not completely healed,” Dr. Novak says.

“Oh.” Sebastian crumples, and he slides his gaze over to me, frowning, as if maybe blood is squirting out of me or something and he hasn’t noticed it yet.

“Luke has a concussion. He’ll need someone to take care of him. It can be one of the doctors, or it can be a friend.”

She glances at me when she says the last word.

“Sebastian will watch me,” I say.

She nods. “I thought so.”

Sebastian’s eyes widen, which is wrong. That’s not supposed to happen. He shouldn’t look like he’s looking for a reason not to watch me. He shouldn’t look anxious. Shouldn’t look scared.

I want to reach for his hand again, but that didn’t work so well last time, and maybe Sebastian is just really shy.

He was shy in school, even if he pretends not to be now, when all the cameras are on him and all of America is watching him, and he gives his little speeches about love in that calm, inspiring manner.

“Luke probably wants to have one of his friends watch him.”

Dr. Novak looks disappointed. “The other guys will have to fly back to Boston tonight. I can’t ask someone else to stay. Snow is always an issue, and I don’t want more than one player to potentially miss his flight. Luke is important to the team, and our priority is keeping him healthy, but—”

“I understand.” Sebastian looks at me. “But—”

“Please,” I beg.

His face crumples. “Of course. Whatever you want.”

I lean back in relief.

“Wonderful.” Dr. Novak hands Sebastian a piece of paper. “Here are instructions for our concussion protocol. You’ll need to wake him up through the night and ask him questions. You’ll also need to be available in case he needs you.”

“I’ll be there,” he promises.

“Here are the painkillers to give him. And of course, you have my number too if you have any questions.”

Sebastian nods, looking slightly overwhelmed, and maybe I should have asked for one of the team’s staff to stay instead.

I squeeze my eyes, and everything in my body hurts.

“Are you okay...” Sebastian’s voice his closer to me than it was before, low and rumbling. The vibrations seem to move over me, settling in all the places where there was only pain before.

I should think more about my injury, be angrier, at myself, at the Montrealian who injured me, but instead, all I can think about is that Sebastian is here right next to me. He looks like an angel, big blue eyes filled with worry. His hair sticks up in odd directions, despite his no doubt vigorous pomade routine, and I reach out to soothe the more egregious, Little Rascalesque ones.

He draws back, pink rushing to his high cheekbones again, and his lips form an O. I need to ask him if he uses gloss on them. I want to ask him now, but I know he’s shyer than he appears on the screen. I know because I used to know him.

Sort of.

But now I’m getting to know him. I smile. We’re going to have the night together.

“You seem to be in a good mood for someone with a concussion,” Dr. Novak says, smiling.

“Is that a problem?” Sebastian asks, and I hate the worry in his voice.

“Well. Maybe the painkillers are taking effect. Usually, it’s a struggle to keep the players from returning to the ice.”

“I’m reasonable,” I say.

“He’s a good man,” Dr. Novak says to Sebastian, her voice serious. “Don’t hurt him.”

“The puck already took care of that,” I explain, and Dr. Novak laughs and explains more about what Sebastian should do to take care of me.

There are a lot of things, and my stomach sinks. Sebastian’s eyes bounce from me to the sheet.

“But you don’t have to help,” I say, breaking Dr. Novak’s speech about hydration. Sebastian’s shoulders crumple, as if I’ve told him I don’t want to have lunch with him or something, and I hastily add, “It’s a lot. I-I didn’t realize how much went into it. And I know you’re busy and...”

“Oh.” Sebastian draws back. “I don’t have to help, Luke. If you’re more comfortable with...”

“No.” I furrow my brow. “I-I just mean I understand if you don’t want to do it.”

“I’ll be a phone call away,” Dr. Novak tells Sebastian. “I’ll have Oskar make the arrangements.”

Sebastian nods then smiles at me. “Let’s, um, get you to the hotel.”