Crossroads (Book Three)

Chapter 32

Shawn

I knew the moment I hit the ice that something was wrong. The pang of pain that shot out of my knee eventually turned to a throbbing as I laid there, praying that the damage wasn't anything permanent. I saw the look of worry on the team trainers face as he looked between me and my knee before I was hoisted to my skates and helped off the ice.

I heard the murmurs between coaches and the trainer and caught the odd word. ACL. MCL. X-ray. Surgery. Fuck not surgery. The thought of needing surgery made my stomach turn.

I was reassured by everyone who helped get my equipment off me very carefully that everything would be alright, but I needed to go for an x-ray at the hospital. The pain was subsiding now and my annoyance and frustration was now at the forefront of my mind. I had tried to shove them away and stand up on my own, but I was forced back down onto my ass on the bench until they were ready to help me out to the assistant coach's truck.

I felt pathetic as the basically carried me out to the parking lot and lifted me up into the passenger seat. In the silence of the drive I realized Lyla was at the game and probably a basket case of worries right now. I was reassured when I pulled my phone from my jacket pocket and saw the numerous texts and missed calls from her. I didn't feel like talking to anyone at the moment so I sent her a quick text letting her know I was being taken to the hospital.

The next hour passes in a haze while I waited for the verdict. I felt like I couldn't breathe an easy breath until I finally heard the doctor tell me it wasn't a serious injury and I wouldn't require surgery. My brain immediately switched back to hockey mode as I started to mentally prep for the game in two nights when the doctor delivered the blow that there'd be no hockey for me for a minimum six weeks. There goes the rest of playing this year. My senior year, final year to go to the championship and I'm sidelined.

The next few hours pass as numerous doctors and nurses come n and out of my room, blabbing away about what I have to look forward to in the next few weeks. When Lyla shows up she looks completely flustered as she rushes into my room and I reassure her that I'm fine. She stays with me and types out all the doctors' orders on her phone since I'm paying little attention.

Now here we are, pulling up in front of my house. Lyla hops out of her side and races around to open to the door for me. It's a sweet gesture and I know she means well but it irritates me since I am perfectly capable of opening my own door.

Hell, I'm capable of walking on my damn leg, but Lyla thrusts my crutches into my hands before I can climb out. I resist the urge to chuck the crutches across the lawn and instead use them to hobble my way up to the door.

When we head inside, all the lights are off and the house is quiet. Not a surprise since it's the middle of the night at this point. I head straight for the stairs, not wanting to do anything else but fall into my bed and pass out.

I drop the crutches at the bottom of the stairs and grab onto the railing before I start to one legged hop up the steps. One at a time I thump up the stairs until I reach the top. It's only a few steps down the hallway to my bedroom and I start to limp my way down, holding onto the wall as I go.

"Wait," Lyla calls out from behind me softly but sternly.

I pause in my spot and wait for her, knowing damn well she is bringing my crutches up to me. I'm tempted to keep hobbling away on my own, but I don't have the energy to face a fierce and stubborn Lyla right now so I take the crutches from her when she appears at my side.

"Thanks," I mutter softly and make my way down the rest of the hallway, not bothering to make eye contact with Lyla.

I make it to my room and fall back onto my bed. I start to strip out of my clothes from the day and can see Lyla moving about my room in my peripherals. I slide up the bed once I'm in my boxers and start to slide under the covers, ready to close my eyes and forget about this stupid night.