Delay of Game (The Baltimore Banners Book 6) (13 page)

Val blinked and swallowed, her throat suddenly tight, thick with something she didn't quite understand. She blinked again and noticed her brother on the ice, only a few feet away. His eyes were narrowed, focused directly on her. He nodded his head then, very discreetly, motioned toward the bench. She frowned, not understanding, then watched as he lifted his stick and pointed.

Not to the bench. To the locker room. Or the medical room. Whatever it was called. Val looked away, finally noticed the grip Alyssa had on her arm. She was being tugged, her friend pulling her out of the aisle, away from the seats.

"My bag—"

"I have it. Come on, let's go."

"But Justin—" She motioned behind her, not sure exactly what she meant to say. Justin was injured, out of the game.

"I know, Val. Come on, snap out of it. Let's go." Alyssa kept tugging her, leading her up the wide steps as the announcer's voice boomed over the loudspeakers, reading off a list of penalties that had the crowd screaming.

Good? Bad? Val wasn't sure, couldn't quite make sense of everything that was going on. It was like her mind had gone on vacation, leaving nothing but a hazy buzzing in its place. But Alyssa kept tugging her, urging her to follow, so that’s what she did, all the way to the concourse.

"I want to kill him."

Alyssa finally stopped and glanced over her shoulder, her eyes narrowed on Val. She stopped and took a deep breath, her gaze never flinching. "Kill who?"

"The guy who did that."

Alyssa blew out a deep breath and patted Val on the shoulder. "Yeah, thought so. I could see it on your face. That's what happens when you're in love."

"What?" Val almost staggered back, like she had been slapped. Then she shook her head, feeling some of the hazy buzzing finally leaving. "That's not—"

"Stop. You can argue later. Come on, we need to get down there."

"Down where?"

"To see Justin. You do want to see him, right?"

"Yes. Of course." Val blinked and shook her head once more, trying to clear it all the way. Yes, she wanted to see Justin. Needed to see him.

Alyssa grabbed her arm again, dragging her along the concourse, not worrying about who they pushed out of the way.

Yes, she needed to see Justin. To make sure he was okay, to make sure it was nothing more than a broken arm, that he was fine.

She needed to see him because she cared. Of course she cared. But what Alyssa said? No, that had nothing to do with it.

She just needed to see Justin. That was all.

Gray. No sound, no color, no feeling. Just gray. He could sense light off in the distance, knew there was sound there as well even though he couldn't hear it. He didn't want to hear it, didn't want to see the light. It was better here in the gray. He didn't have to think, didn't have to feel, didn't have to worry.

That last word caught him off-guard. Worry. What did he have to worry about? He wasn't sure, just knew there was…something. Something waiting for him, something he didn't want to consider, didn't want to face, didn't want to acknowledge.

No, it was better here in the gray. Safer. Not quite comforting. He wasn't sure how he would describe it. Then again, he didn't have to. All he had to do was stay here and experience it. It would be so easy to just stay here, to lose himself in the gray and not have to worry about anything.

Had the gray turned to black, just for a little bit? He wasn't sure, had no way of knowing how much time had passed, or if any had passed at all. He seemed to recall slipping deeper into the gray, deeper to where it was almost black, where nothing existed. But now the gray was back, along with that annoying light, coming closer.

"Justin. Justin, wake up."

He frowned, recognizing his name, the sound almost distorted. A flash of memory, nothing more than wispy smoke, swirling just out of reach. Something was wrong. He recognized the voice but it was off somehow. Or maybe it wasn't the voice he remembered. No, it couldn't be. The voice he remembered was soft, musical, kind and laughing and warm. This voice was anything but. This voice was insistent, impatient, with an edge of something to it he didn't quite understand.

He didn't want to see the voice. Could he see voices? Maybe. It didn't matter. All he knew was that if he saw it, there was something else he'd have to see, something he didn't want to face. Better to slip back in the gray, to ignore everything and pretend the voice didn't exist.

"Now you're just pissing me off. Come on, wake up."

The voice was louder, closer. He shook his head, his mind searching for the grayness that was being pushed away, trying to hold onto it as it faded. It was no good. The gray dimmed, fading even more, replaced by a watery light.

Justin fought to open his eyes, his lids too heavy, resisting his attempts. He tried to move his arm. Burning pain, quick and sharp, exploded along his left arm. He bolted upright, only to fall back when more pain shot through him, sending stars shooting across the inside of his eyelids.

"Fuck." At least, that's what he tried to say. He had no idea what actually came out of his mouth but it sure as hell didn't sound like he meant it to. He clenched his jaw, breathing in short gasps of air with a hiss, waiting for the pain to subside.

Memory slowly came back, bits and pieces that accompanied each painful throb in his arm.

The puck bouncing off the pipes and shooting into the corner.

Skating after it, digging in with the blade of his stick.

Passing it behind him, getting ready to turn.

A bone-crushing weight hitting him from behind, sending him into the boards. Falling to the ice, searing pain exploding along his arm.

Being helped off the ice. X-rays. Hospital. Surgery.

"Fuck." His voice was clearer, the word recognizable now. Someone laughed, the sound off to his right, close. But the laugh wasn't quite right, a little tense, a little strained.

Justin forced his eyes open, blinking against the bright light overhead. He took a few deep breaths, nice and slow, then turned his head to the side and blinked again.

Val was sitting near the bed, her dark hair brushed off her face and secured at the back of her neck with some kind of elastic band. Her dark eyes were wide in her pale face. Were those smudges of fatigue under her eyes, or merely shadows from the play of light? Justin blinked again, trying to clear his vision, wondering why Val would look so worried, so tired.

Wondering why she was here.

He closed his eyes again, squeezing them tight, then reopened them. His mind still felt foggy, like the grayness hovered just at the edges, waiting for him. The desire to give in was almost overwhelming. It would be easy, so easy.

But he couldn't. Not yet.

Justin shifted, his breath escaping in a hiss as pain ripped through his arm with the movement. He waited a few seconds, then moved again, more carefully this time, his gaze drifting down.

He didn't want to look, was almost afraid of what he'd see. Which was stupid. He already knew what he'd see. His fucking arm was broken, he'd had surgery on it. What the hell did he expect? A sudden miracle? Yeah. Maybe instead of pins and screws, the surgeon used a magic wand and instantly fixed everything.

Yeah, that would be nice. Except the soft cast on his arm told another story.

Justin stared at it for a few minutes then leaned his head back and sighed. "They could have at least given me a better looking cast."

Laughter again, sudden, almost a little harsh. Justin looked over at Val, surprised to see her holding both hands over her mouth, like she was trying to stop herself from making any more noise. He watched her for a few minutes, frowning as something niggled at the back of his mind.

"You yelled at me."

"What? I did not."

"Yeah you did. You said I was pissing you off."

Val looked away but not before he saw her eyes widen in surprise. Was it his imagination, or was that a slight flush tinting her cheeks? It didn't matter, the color looked good on her, chasing away the chalky white that made her face so pale.

"Why was I pissing you off?"

Val turned back to face him, that faint blush still sitting high on her cheekbones. She shifted in the chair, rested her hand on the side of the bed, then moved it away. "You're imagining things."

"Am I?" He smiled, at least tried to, he wasn't quite sure how the final result actually looked on his face. Then he stretched his right hand out to the edge of the bed, palm up. Val looked at him, then down at his extended hand. Quiet seconds went by before she reached out and took it in hers. She laced her fingers with his and squeezed, at least a dozen different emotions crossing her face. Justin couldn't read any of them.

"How are you feeling?" Val's voice was quiet, barely above a whisper and filled with worry, concern. He lifted their joined hands to his mouth and pressed a quick kiss on the back of her hand.

Just that was enough to drain him.

"Groggy. Weak."

"Yeah, well. You did just have surgery."

"Hunh. You'd think they'd give me something for it. My arm hurts like hell." He glanced down at it, like that would make the pain go away, then leaned back with another sigh. "What did the doctor say about it?"

Val's silence sent a blast of fear through him, biting and nearly as painful as his arm. He turned to look at her, wondering what he'd see on her face, expecting to see his own horror reflected back at him. What he saw instead was confusion, real and honest. She frowned at him, then shook her head.

"Justin, he didn't really say anything. Not to me. He wouldn't, since we're not related."

His heart rate settled, but only marginally. Justin tried shifting on the uncomfortable bed again, wincing at the pain even that slight movement caused. Val was instantly on her feet, leaning over him, trying to help by moving the pillows behind him. He tried to smile, had trouble finding the energy to do even that. The grayness was calling again, beckoning, promising escape.

"He should have…I told him to." He forced his lids open, tried to focus on Val's face. The sudden irrational fear that she was disappearing gripped him and he reached for her, needing to feel her, needing a physical connection. Her hand closed over his again, her fingers squeezing his once more.

She said something, he wasn't sure what. Something about the doctor talking to him later. Justin didn't care, not right now, not with the grayness pulling at him.

No, not yet. He couldn't go just yet.

He forced his eyes open, blinking until Val's face came into focus.

"Stay with me."

"Justin—"

"Stay…need you."

"I'm here. I'll be here."

Justin tried to thank her, tried to tell her how much it meant to hear that. Words tumbled from his mouth, mumbled and incoherent even to his own ears. He struggled to keep his eyes open, felt them close. His lids were heavy, so heavy.

He opened them once more, his gaze resting on Val's face. Then his lids drifted shut and he faded away, floating, tumbling back in the welcoming grayness.

Justin woke again, an hour later, maybe longer. He had no way of telling. The lights in the room were dim, the grayness filling the room only a little lighter than the grayness he had just drifted from. He turned his head, noticed Val sitting in the chair next to him, her head resting on the edge of the mattress. Her hand was still wrapped around his, their fingers laced together.

He wanted to move, to brush the hair from her face and tell her she should go home, that he'd be fine. But he couldn't find the energy, not with the grayness pulling at him again. And a selfish part of him didn't want her to leave, wanted her right there beside him.

He squeezed her fingers and drifted back off.

The next time he came to was sudden, abrupt. Not the gentle floating between gray and light. Flames licked at his arm, burning, painful. Cotton lined his mouth, making his tongue stick to the roof of his mouth, his lips dry and chapped. Justin blinked, moved his tongue around inside his mouth, trying to work up some spit, then looked around.

"Fuck." The word came out wrong, thick and dry, but no less intense as he scowled at the guys standing at the foot of his bed.

Mat. Randy. Kenny. Brad. All of them dressed in a variation of worn jeans and t-shirts. All of them still sported unkempt beards, each face marred with cuts and bruises. Randy's nose looked like it had been broken—again. Kenny's right eye was swollen, colored an ugly purple. He was surprised the hospital staff had even let them in to visit.

Justin groaned and rested his head against the sorry excuse of a pillow then glanced to his right. Val was gone.

"Don't worry, she'll be back. Alyssa took her home so she could get some sleep and clean up. She's been here the entire time." A frown marred Randy's face, like he wasn't exactly happy with what he just said. Justin ignored him.

"When you do it, you do it all the way, don't you?" Mat's voice boomed in the relative quiet of the room, making Justin wince. He tried to smile then gave up. There was no reason to smile, to pretend. Not in front of these guys. He glanced down at his left arm, at his fingers sticking out from the soft cast, mottled and a little swollen.

"Yeah, guess so." His gaze drifted to the narrow table off to the side, and the Styrofoam cup sitting on it. Justin motioned with his head. "Can someone hand me that water?"

"You allowed to drink?"

"Hey, asshole, they wouldn't have put it there if he couldn't."

"Don't jump in my shit. I was just checking."

Justin rolled his eyes then shot Mat a grateful look when he pushed the table over to him. Yeah, because God forbid anyone actually just hand him the cup. He closed his fingers around it and lifted it to his mouth, surprised at how much his hand was shaking, surprised at how weak he felt. He took a few sips from the straw then sat the cup back down, afraid he might drop it.

"What was the score?" Justin knew they'd won the game, had a vague recollection of someone telling him that. But that was all he could remember. Everything was still fuzzy, nothing more than random glimpses here and there in his mind. Hell, he didn't even know what day it was or how much time had passed since the game. At least a day. More likely two. Maybe.

"Four to two. We had to get at least one extra goal for you."

"Yeah. And Murray's being suspended for that hit. And fined. No idea for how long or how much, though."

Justin grunted, choosing not to say anything. What the hell could he say? He didn't really care about the suspension or the fine, not when the damage was already done. Yeah, it was great news they were advancing to the third round. Great news they had a shot at winning the Cup two years in a row.

Justin glanced back down at his arm.

They'd be doing it all without him. Yeah, that was just fucking great.

"So what'd the doctor say? You hear anything yet?"

Justin shook his head. "Haven't seen him yet." And while he wouldn't admit it to his teammates, that wasn't a visit he was looking forward to. His mind was clearing enough now that he could remember more. The compound fracture. The sickening white of bone poking through torn flesh. Being told he needed surgery, that they'd be putting in plates and pins. Maybe some of the details were still missing or fuzzy, but he remembered that much.

And that was enough. He'd be out for a while, he didn't need a medical degree to know that much. What he didn't know was how long. And that scared the hell out of him.

He blew out a heavy breath and leaned his head back again, closing his eyes and grimacing as another flare of pain exploded in his arm. The guys were talking and laughing, their voices loud in the small room. Justin tried tuning them out, tried tuning everything out.