After spending some time wandering through the upstairs, I’d cleaned up and dressed for a cold arena.
The driver jumped out of the car when he saw me come out the front door, opening the back door of the black town car for me. “Ready, miss?”
“Yes, thank you.”
I’d settled in for the quick ferry ride back across the bay. Now, I sat one row back from the ice - my favorite place to watch the high-speed action - and marveled at Brett’s talent.
After a cursory glance around the arena, I spotted my sister sitting behind the Bruins bench. She hadn’t texted or called me, even though I was confident my mother had told her I would be here.
Ryan found me and offered club seats to the two individuals sitting next to me so he could sit with me. They were happy to take them.
I kept my eyes on the game, cheering on the Kraken alongside him.
Without taking his eyes from the ice or the game, he leaned in and said loudly, over the shouts of the crowd, “I’m glad you made it. I’m happy you’re here.”
“Me too.”
Then he looked at me and laughed. “Yeah, I’m sure you are.”
Going into the third period, the game was tied. The entire audience cheered on their feet. The arena was so loud, I wondered if I would go deaf.
At this point, the players were playing for the win. Skill and aggression kept the game moving at a very fast pace. I could hardly keep my eye on the puck.
Dancing and shifting across the ice, Brett reached in and stole the puck from a Bruins player. The crowd erupted.
In front of and behind Brett, two players approached, attempting to block him in. One raised his stick as if to steal the puck, but, as if in slow motion, hit Brett’s face instead. The force knocked his helmet off, and it rolled to the edge of the rink.
The other player came in low, knocking Brett’s legs out from underneath him and toppling him to the ground. His head smacked on the ice, where he lay prone.
A whistle blew. The crowd went quiet.
Ryan jumped from his seat. “I’ll be right back.”
I stood as well. “Let me come with you.”
He nodded curtly.
We jogged through the walkways to get to the tunnel. One of the television screens above the concession stands showed the other team doctors and the coach walk out onto the ice. They were putting Brett on a stretcher.
When we reached the Kraken dressing rooms, Ryan flashed his badge at the security guard.
“You have a badge?” The oversized human asked me.
Ryan quickly said, “She’s with me.”
After a cursory glance at me, the guard stepped aside and we rushed past him.
I heard Brett yelling, “I’m fine,” even before we reached him. He was on the stretcher, being wheeled into the medical room.
“You’re not fine. You hit your head and that could be one concussion too many for you to finish the game.” The assistant coach stood next to him as the doctors transferred him to the medical recliner.
Ryan entered the room and I stepped in beside him.
“Elizabeth!” He jumped up in all his gear. Crossing the room, he pressed his lips firmly to mine and stayed there for a full breath. Then he stepped back. “Did you see what happened? They totally sacked me.” He cursed.
“I saw.” I placed my hands on his arms and propelled him backwards. “You need to sit down.”
He obeyed, reluctantly. “I need to get back out there. Please tell them to let me back out there.”