Page 65 of Rise Above

to be strong—no, she was strong. That woman had clearly been through more than I was aware of. That was probably true of most people. They showed what they wanted to show. It was just a fact of life.

“Aife.”

Her eyes looked through me, like I wasn’t even

there. “Please. Later.” She pulled away from me, and I instantly shivered at the sudden cold.

The door opened again, and a nurse came in. She

went over how to take my medications, care for my cast, and rest. I signed some papers, and we were free to go. We were going to meet the team, who had all followed us to the hospital. Even Dre and Nat had shown up for me, and they barely even knew me. They were all worried, and I couldn’t blame them. Zeke wasn’t here though and that confused me.

“Where’s Zeke?” My voice was hoarse as Aife and

I greeted my found family. “And Davis?”

“Davis is keeping Zeke out of jail.” Nat grabbed the

folder Aife handed her. “He went after the Detroit player that nailed you.”

“The coaches and refs had to pull them apart.” Dre

pulled a sharpie out of her purse. “Can I put my autograph on you?”

Nodding, I carefully held my cast out. I let Aife

pick the color, and I wound up with a light purple cast. Dre signed first then Aife and then Nat. The rest of my team quickly followed, making sure to leave space for Zeke and Davis.

145

Rise Above

“Is Zeke in jail?” I asked quietly. Nerves roared

through my chest at still being in the hospital. The smell burned my nose, closing my throat.

“No, thankfully.” Dre capped the sharpie once

everyone had signed. “But Davis did have to spend a good while calming him down.”

“Who was it?” I asked. Everyone looked away. No

one wanted to give me answers. It was annoying. No, it was extremely frustrating. Why wouldn’t anyone give me answers?

Chris decided to step forward as we walked out of

the ER. He laid a hand on my shoulder. “It was Tyler Hook… the same guy who gave me the concussion. All of hockey: coaches, players, and the commissioner are fucking pissed at him right now.” Chris was not someone who cussed. Clearly, he was pissed too. He was just as protective of the team as I was. We loved our boys; we were family. My jaw tightened as anger hit my throat and chest.

“What do you mean the hockey world is pissed?” I

reached for Aife’s hand. I wanted—needed—comfort. She gave it freely.

She easily slipped her hand in mine. My hand

practically engulfed hers, but I felt at home for some reason. Aife made me feel at home and safe. I was feeling things for her. I wasn’t sure my heart was ready, but it had let her in without my permission.

The team all headed off to their cars after offering

me condolences and sympathy. I hated the pity. Injuries happened; it was a part of the athletic world. We had all