20. OLIVIA

CHAPTER 20

OLIVIA

A fter a couple of weeks, half of my body weight is now made out of popcorn and Coke. I'm sitting in the middle of the stands of our home arena, watching the latest iteration of the Thunder Bolts vs. Bulldogs classic. This means the whole place is packed to the brim with a blue ocean, not even leaving a single row for any brave Bulldogs fans to come heckle our guys.

Yeah, our . By virtue of getting puppy-eyed into coming to these games by a certain captain, I'm now part of the blue ocean. Very annoying.

I jam my hand in the massive tub of popcorn and grab a handful that I can eat like a chipmunk. Mina's laughing beside me.

"Whodda thunk that the biggest hockey hater would become a puck bunny."

"I am not a puck bunny," I snap while crunching on my snack. "I'm not chasing anyone's jersey here."

"Are you sure?" She wiggles her eyebrows. "Like, if Brooklyn all of a sudden asks you out, you wouldn't?"

I cough. Balancing the tub between my knees, I pick up my cup of soda between the heels of my hands to take a big sip. If I try to grab it with greasy fingers, it'll slip and cause a catastrophe. Like it happened last week.

"I'm here for myself, not for him," I retort, lifting my chin. "If I don't come to his home games, he'll bombard me with texts begging me to come. And I really value my peace of mind."

"I'm going to spare you the racy pun I could make there and just say this." I brace, because now that she's said it I can see how this conversation could get so much worse. "First, if you weren't hoping for something, this man wouldn't bother you at all no matter how persistent he is."

True. Then again, Brooke is my weakness. He's always been.

"Second," she continues, "Don't you find it funny how he can spot you in an arena packed with some three thousand fans?"

That lands like a record scratch. "Uh, it is weird. But I mean, since tonight was gonna be a full house, he did ask for which section we'd be sitting at. But maybe also the ticket counter passes along the info?"

"That all makes sense, which means he cares enough to check." Folding her arms, she regards me with raised eyebrows. "And otherwise, if the guy can spot you among thousands of people… what do you think it means?"

I speak with a choked voice after stuffing my face with more popcorn. "He has eyes sharper than a hawk's."

Mina snorts. "Not at all, because he wouldn't be able to pick me in the crowd. In fact, he doesn't even notice me if I'm standing next to you. What I'm saying is that the guy likes you and eventually you'll end up in his jersey."

"He doesn't." I shake my head. "Listen, Brooke isn't a shy guy. If he was into me he'd have said so."

"Didn't you say he hugged you from behind once like you were reenacting some K-Drama? Because girl, that would so do me in."

Nearly did me in, too. I don't know how I managed to stay upright as he washed my damn hands, which is not something I ever contemplated would get my engine revving.

"The thing is," I say loudly so she can hear through the noise in the crowd. "He's always been a touchy-feely, affectionate guy. He's the male human version of a golden retriever. Always seeking attention and very fluffy."

She tips her chin down to give me an incredulous look. "You mean to tell me that guy who has an ass of steel is fluffy?"

"His hair is." Heat creeps up my neck when I remember that nothing else of his seems fluffy, at least going by his abs that look carved in marble. I'm still not over those, either.

"I'm telling you. Before the season even ends, you two are going to be swapping bodily fluids of some kind."

I punch her in the arm and she cries out in pain because she isn't made of steel.

But now my whole body's tingling and heating up, which is cooking me under my coat. I try to focus back on the game and ignoring her, but Mina keeps making random kissy sounds for the rest of the intermission.

Only when the game resumes does she let up. She's got so into the game and the culture the past two years and change, that she knows the rules probably better than me. And she's very invested in both the Bolts and the Strikes winning when she's in attendance. Especially on a certain alternate captain she has her eye on.

The relative quiet from her teasing, welcome as it is, also means I have no other means of distraction but to keep munching on bottomless popcorn, or watching the freaking game. My heart hammers harder as Brooke's line jumps back on the ice.

The way I view it, there are three types of hockey fans. Casual ones can barely follow the puck with their eyes, that's how unused to the pace they are. Average fans can follow plays without issue, but the numbers on player's jerseys are still a bit of a blur and they rely on the screens quite a bit. Super fans could narrate the whole thing not just down to who's who in the middle of play, but their stats too.

I'm a Brooklyn Tatum super fan. He's averaging thirty one point eight minutes per game. He's only two goals away from tying with the top forward in the team. He has middle of the pack penalty minutes, which is a feat considering his line has been dubbed the top penalty killers in Division I men's hockey this year. And I could spot him in the middle of a brawl.

Which… is this the beginning of one?

I sit closer to the edge of my seat. Two Bulldogs are chirping at Brooke. I'm sure he's dishing it right back, especially the more aggressive they get. One of the Bulldogs grabs Brooke's jersey but the refs don't care because none of them have the puck right now.

"Hey, shouldn't that be a penalty?" Mina asks.

I'm about to explain when the play heats up. The crowd starts booing as a Bulldog basically carries the puck coast to coast, and it becomes pretty clear to me that what they were doing was trying to distract the Bolts' best defender. But Brooklyn's big and powerful. He breaks off their hold to intercept the opposing forward and?—

"No!" I shout, jumping to my feet. I watch through a rain of popcorn how Brooke crashes on the ice. Hard.

"Those assholes!" Mina's on her feet too. "That was high sticking, refs!" She shrieks with all her lungs.

But then I see my worst nightmare coming true.

There's blood on the ice. And Brooke's not getting back on his feet.

My knees knock on the seat in front of me. I catch myself right before I buckle down. Mina's arms are suddenly around me and she's saying something. I can't hear her over the roaring in my ears. My harsh breathing. A weird whistling that doesn't stop.

"It's good, he's sitting up. Look."

Signs of life from him penetrate the fog even more than her words. Brooke pushes onto all fours. The arena's gone completely quiet as he sits back on his haunches and sheds his gloves. All I can see is the giant 3 number at his back, so I don't know how bad he's hurt. Or where.

"Please." I shake my head. "I need to see—I need to…" I don't know what. I just need to know he's not bleeding out of an eye. Or his neck.

"Okay," my friend says softly. "Let's find a better spot."

She grabs me by the hand and navigates us down the row. Some people throw insults at us and I don't care. They can say whatever. I just need to get closer, I need to…

We climb down the stairs toward the boards, and Mina makes room for us among other snooping fans. From this vantage, I can see him more from the side. But someone from the Thunder Bolts staff is in the way now. The guy is crouched before Brooke, inspecting the injury.

Biting my lip, I send my fiercest glare at the Bulldog who high sticked Brook on purpose. And while he didn't even have the puck. This should be a misconduct that gets him kicked out of the game. Or a suspension. Because it was one hundred percent targeted at the guy carrying the entire freaking team.

Someone starts clapping and I return my attention to Brooke. He's standing up now, pressing a towel to his face or neck. I can't tell. But the staff members grab him by the arms as he skates off the rink.

"I'm going."

"Where?" Mina asks me.

"To the locker room. I need to make sure he's okay."

"Um, is that even allowed? "

"No, but good luck to whoever tries to stop me," I say in a voice even I recognize sounds absolutely unhinged.

"Oh-kay. I don't shy from an adventure. Let's go."

Together, we climb back up the arena and I motion at her to follow me. Her eyes go as wide as saucers as I strut us in through the staff area. Back when my siblings went to this school, Brooke and I used to sneak in to the training area all the time. If we go through this hallway and take the first door on the right, we land in a janitorial room that connects to the hallway where the training gym is.

"How the hell do you know the way?" she asks in a low whisper, as if we were filming a spy movie.

"Luz gave us the layout so Aran, Brooke and I could sneak in to see her and Max."

"Shouldn't the staff know that their security's kinda meh?"

My face pinches. "Okay, that's a good point. We'll tell them after this."

"Yes, after."

I point left after we're through the janitorial room. Men's voices echo faintly down the hallway.

"I'll wait here," Mina says all of a sudden. I turn to her and she waves me with her hands. "Go, do your grand gesture for the man you love. I'm gonna stay back so hopefully they don't catch me and ban me from the arena."

"So you're a coward now?"

"No, I would just prefer to keep coming to games." Her expression softens. "Honestly, I wanted to make sure you don't collapse. And you look better now."

Sighing, I grab one of her hands and squeeze it. "Thanks, Mina. I know I got a bit, um, intense back there."

Her lips stretch in a concerned smile. "I get you, boo. Now go."

Taking a deep breath, I swivel around and walk over to the men's locker. My hand hesitates at the door, but what's the worst that can happen? They kick me out, but at least I'll get a glimpse of the situation.

I barge in.

Three men turn around. As they move, one of them clears the view between Brooke and I.

"Oh!"

My vision swims.

"Liv!" Brooke shoots up to his feet. "It looks much worse than it is, I promise."

"Thomas, get this woman out of here," a man barks.

"No, I—I—" But I can't get an argument out. Not when I take in the bleeding gash on Brooke's cheek, or the blood smear on his neck and on his jersey.

"Coach, she's family," Brooke says.

Barky man glares at him. "She looks a bit too young to be your mother, Tatum."

Brooklyn shakes his head, which sends crimson drops through the air. "She's the only real family I have."

"Can you at least wait outside while I stitch him up?" an older man asks me, not unkindly but impatient. And that's when I realize he's wearing surgical gloves and has a needle and thread in his hands.

With a weak voice, I say, "Shouldn't that be done in the hospital? Um, in a cleaner environment?"

"It's okay, Liv. He's the team doctor."

The man I assume is Thomas motions for me to step out. "It'll only take a moment."

Nodding, I retreat until the door shuts back in my face.

The first sniffle comes out. And then it's a full on torrential rain on my face.

"Liv?" Mina asks from behind me, and her hand starts rubbing circles on my back. "Is it really bad? Should we call nine-one-one?"

"No." I'm not a sobber, but I've always been a sniffer. I rub my forearms against my nose, smearing the sleeves of my coat with tears and who knows what else. "He's okay. They're taking good care of him. But his face… his pretty face…"

Mina's expression is set in a grimace. "Well, scars are attractive too."

I shake my head. One day she'll make a great WAG. Unlike me. I can't fathom becoming a member of the wives-and-girlfriends club when it means making light of injuries. Who wants to see their loved ones getting hurt? Not this girl.

The door opens and the two coaches walk out. The nice one says, "He's waiting for you now."

"But don't you ever barge into this area again, little miss," the head coach says, pointing at my face. "I'll get you banned, even if my best player claims you're family. You hear me?"

"Yes, sir."

He seems to like that, because all he does is glare for a second longer before walking over to the tunnel.

"I'll wait for fifteen minutes," Mina tells me. "And if you're not out by then, I'll assume you're doing naughty things and leave."

"I'm not going to—fine. Whatever." I push the door again and at the last second, I retreat and grab her in a tight hug. "Thank you."

She pats my back. "Now go get your man."

"Ugh."

When I finally walk into the locker, the doctor is almost done packing up as he speaks. "—Ibuprofen if it hurts too bad and try not to get water on it until I see you tomorrow, okay?"

"Yes, sir." Brooke speaks through a mostly closed mouth as his eyes find me. He's no longer wearing the bloody jersey. "Hey, you okay? You look like you're gonna faint."

I shake my head hard. "You're asking if I'm okay? I'm not the one who lost half his blood!"

"You sure? Because you're looking mighty pale there. "

"Besides," the doctor says as he zips up his bag. "If he'd lost half his blood, he'd definitely be dead."

"Not helping," I mumble.

"Also…" The older man motions at Brooke and at me several times. "Don't you do things that could rip out his stitches."

"Thanks, Doc," Brooke says far too loud. "I really appreciate you."

He and I wince as the old man chuckles the whole way out the door.

Brooke, in his full uniform sans bucket, gloves, or jersey, leans back against the closed locker. His hair is damp and matted against his head. He looks a bit tired, probably from an adrenaline crash. It's a look I'm very familiar with myself. The doctor taped up a strip of gauze that takes up Brooke's right cheek from just under his cheekbone to his jaw.

My chin starts trembling and Brooke lifts his hand like he wants me to hold it. I cross the locker room and when I grab his hand, he pulls me to sit on his left side, where I can't see the gauze.

His head rolls over so he can look at me. "It's really not that bad. Just five little stitches. Doc just didn't have a smaller gauze."

I sag a little. "But it looked so bad."

"I'm a bleeder. Remember when I scraped my knee in the fifth grade?"

I frown, observing how his massive hand seems to swallow mine up. Lacing our fingers together hurts a bit because his are so much wider, but I wouldn't let him go for the world.

"That was your fault," I murmur absentmindedly. He'd been chasing me with a frog, which I absolutely hate. He got what was otherwise coming to him via my fist.

His thumb runs across the back of my hand. "And it didn't even leave a scar. So I'm sure this will be the same. "

My strength gives out and I lean on him, my head resting on his stinky shoulder pad. "I'm sorry. I should be the one comforting you, not the other way around."

"You are." His voice is feather soft. "You braved Coach Green to make sure I was okay. That's… wow."

I bite my lip. "That—That's what friends do, right?"

For a long moment, the only sound comes from the whirring of the ventilation system. And then he sighs.

"Anyway, I'm out for the rest of the night and I was gonna watch the game from the bench, but I'm actually not feeling so hot now."

Gasping, I pull away to observe him more clearly. He doesn't look particularly pale. His eyes are bright. But you never know.

"Are you on concussion protocol? Should I find the Doc? Or?—"

"Shhh. Take a deep breath for me, Olivia." I do, and he mimics me for three more breaths until he nods and continues. "No, I'm just in a lot of freaking pain right now and I want to ice my face. Can you drive me home?"

"Yes. Of course." I jump to my feet and freeze when a car doesn't magically appear before me. And now he's fighting hard against a smile. "Don't laugh, you could rip out the stitches."

"Right." Brooke braces his hands against his knees and stands up. He's normally a head and a half taller than me, but he's truly a giant while on his skates. He doesn't notice how weak in the knees I am because he turns to yank his locker open. After rummaging, he comes back with a car key. "Can you warm it up while I shower? Unless…" He lifts his eyebrows. "You wanna see me get naked?"

I whirl around. "I'll wait for you in the parking lot. And don't get your face wet."

"Sure. "

I duck my head even though he can't see my blush from the back. On my way out I mutter, "Pervert."

And only when I'm sitting in his ginormous pickup that smells like his expensive cologne does my mood change. Once I deliver him to his place, I'm going to kill him for scaring me like this.