It was fun to be on this side of the boards, but there were times I wished I were out on the ice, too. We all cheered and yelled at the good—and bad calls.
A few times I even yelled, “Hustle, Moreau!” and it made the girls around me laugh.
What I liked best, though, was whenever he’d find me in the stands and smile.
Just at me.
It felt like the rest of the world disappeared, and only the two of us were left in the facility.
The second period started strong with a second goal from Beau. There couldn’t have been anyone left sitting. The entire crowd went wild.
It was after the next puck drop that the mood changed. You could feel it like a palpable force moving through the building.
Rozovsky hacked Trey’s skates in an obvious manner, but the refs didn’t call it.
The fans were beyond pissed.
Boos and jeers filled the air as they scoffed at the poor decision on the part of the officials. I couldn’t say that the girls and I had many polite words either.
Trey shook his head and glared at Rozovsky as he skated around the idiot.
Rozovsky was out for blood.
Play began again, Beau had the puck, then he chipped it into the corner when another player was on his ass. Trey saw it and took off like a rocket.
So did Rozovsky.
“No, no, no, no,” I whispered to myself, my heart speeding up like crazy as I watched Trey’s stick touch the puck.
Rozovsky was right behind him, then he jumped, propelling himself—and his elbow—directly into Trey’s back.
Everyone gasped at the pathetic, dirty play.
It was too close to the boards.
There was nowhere for Trey’s head—and body—to go.
Except to crash unnaturally into the boards at the worst possible angle.
Headfirst.
Trey crumpled to the ice, his lifeless body just lying there.
“Shit, I’m gone,” I said, quickly turning to Jillian before I hurried down the side aisle and maneuvered my body through the railing into the tunnel below.
The landing stung my ankles and knees, but it was nothing compared to what Trey would be feeling right about now. I peered at the ice, but too many people were crowded around, and I couldn’t see if Trey was moving or not.
I stayed close to the boards. None of the guys spotted me yet. Most of them were standing, watching nervously as the professionals likely assessed Trey.
I only wished I could see what was going on.
After what felt like forever, someone brought out the orange backboard, and my heart stopped.
“No, no, no, no,” I muttered to myself as I started pacing back and forth in the small space, feeling like I was surely going to lose my mind.
They were not at this very minute strapping my friend to a backboard.
Damn, I wished I could be there with him on the ice and hold his hand.