Page 99 of Diary from an Inked Throne

“You would have been about seven when you had him if that was the case.”

I waved him off. “You know what I mean. I’m sure he has puck bunnies lining up. He does not need to lust after an old woman who already has more men than she knows what to do with, and a post-partum belly.”

His hand slid over my stomach. “Don’t talk about my favorite part of you with that tone.”

I raised an eyebrow at him. “My belly is not your favorite part of me.”

His thumb found a gap between my pants and top and stroked across my stretch-marked skin. “Every part of you is my favorite.”

I kissed him, then murmured over his lips, “Why are you being sweet?”

He rolled his eyes. “Why does everyone think I’m such an asshole?”

“Because you are one?”

He frowned at me, but a shout from the ice cut him off.

French was down, the other players forming a circle around him.

Luca stood and put a hand on the low railing. “Let’s go, French!” he called out. “This isn’t soccer. On your feet!”

A howl of pain came from the ice. “Someone call an ambulance!”

Luca grimaced.

“See what I mean about you being an asshole?” I muttered, but I already had my phone out and was dialing 911. I leaned over the railing as far as I could. “What’s going on?”

Devenish knelt at French’s head. “I don’t know. He just went down hard; his eyes aren’t focusing…”

Luca jumped the railing, landing on the ice in his dress shoes. He managed to make it across to where French lay and shouted for the others to give him some air. I relayed as much information as I could to the 911 operator, and she assured me they’d have paramedics out as soon as possible.

“Don’t move him!”

Luca looked at me. “He’s lying on the ice. How long can he stay there for? He’ll end up with ice burns. Or hypothermia.”

I shook my head. “He’s got padding. He could have a spinal injury.”

Luca went green at that idea. He stared at the other players. “What the fuck happened? Did he take a hard hit or something?”

But nobody seemed to know.

My gut churned, watching French lie there on the ice. It felt like a lifetime before sirens wailed outside and the paramedics walked in with a gurney and their medical bags.

They worked quickly, strapping a brace around French’s neck and doing some other checks. He was conscious but he clutched at Luca’s arm in panic.

The paramedics tried to assure him his vitals were good and he was stable, but French fought with them, disoriented by their unfamiliar faces.

I met them at the gate and jogged alongside. “Do you want me to call your sister? Or someone else? Your parents? A girlfriend?”

French’s voice was frantic. “No! Please, no.” His gaze darted around, completely unfocused with fear.

Luca grabbed his hand. “Hey, hey. Look at me. You’re good. You’re safe. We’re just taking you to the hospital to get you checked out.”

“What?…Luca, please…I hate hospitals.”

Luca peered down at him. “You want Devenish or one of the other guys to go with you?”

French glanced at the other guys all standing in a huddle, watching. Red embarrassment stained his cheeks. “No, it’s fine. I’m being dumb.”